As the train pulled away, the man's face fell through a series of emotions; confusion, then regret, a moment of near-anger, and then acceptance. His face fell peacefully, and he almost smiled, and then Daniel lost sight of him in the crowd. He wondered--should he give it back? Was a half-second of expression on a stranger's face enough to justify keeping this iPad?
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" someone shouted, and Daniel nearly jumped. A woman in a trim blouse, pencil skirt, and dark stockings stepped toward Daniel, a small frown on her carefully-lipsticked lips. She looked ready to dominate a board meeting. Daniel merely opened and closed his mouth, unable to find words. "I saw the man drop that--I hope you're planning to give it back!" she continued, stepping closer.
Daniel looked down at the screen. It was blank and the keyboard was open, waiting for his thumbs.
'This woman can't speak', he typed.
She was ready to shout something else, but it was like the air was sucked straight from her throat. Her mouth closed, but she remained staring at him with a firm glare. Daniel looked around at the other passengers. No one was peering up at her. As far as they were concerned, she hadn't said anything.
Daniel looked back down at the iPad, with its cursor hovering at the end of the line. It was true. And it worked. It worked excellently, in fact--it seemed to know his intentions without having to spell them out. Suddenly, he wanted to try more. He hadn't finished the sentence, after all.
'This woman can't speak because of how plump her lips are', the screen now read.
He looked up and watched the professional red gloss of her lips bloom outward. Her upper lip smoothed over, pulled into a smooth curl that tucked inward at the corners. Her lower lip rounded out, thicker, plumper, falling into an upturned curve. The corners of her lips squeezed together, fighting for space as they both grew. Her lips pushed out from her face, reaching farther out even than her nose. Both top and bottom swelled, filling in with collagen, until her lips were practically frozen in place on her mouth, locked in a thick, glossy pout. She worked her chin, like she was trying to open her lips, but they were pumped so full that she only managed to make her round pout jiggle on the front of her face.
Daniel looked around again. No one had noticed. A few people were taking sly looks at her; he thought he heard a camera click, as someone took a picture that would end up in some 16 Plastic Surgery Fails (You Won't Believe #7) clickbait article. The woman's brow was furrowed, and she was still giving him a disapproving stare, but it was undermined by the thick DSL's sitting right beneath her small nose.
'This woman can't speak because of how plump her lips are. She's the Blowjob Agent for this car.'
At this point, Daniel just wanted to know how much could be invented in one stroke. As he watched, dusky eyeshadow and thick mascara brushed itself across her eyes. A small streak of blush highlighted her cheeks, drawing his eyes to her lips, which remained as perfectly plump and mute as before. Large hoop earrings sprung from her ears, as her hair tumbled from its bun into a high, tight, and long ponytail draping down her back. A black collar materialized around her neck, with 'BJ AGENT' written on it in rhinestones. Her blouse shrunk into a skintight shirt; printed across it were the words 'Want some quick ORAL? Just call me over!', with the word 'ORAL' in a huge font right across her chest. The MTA logo was hiding in the corner of the L.
"Hey, can I get a BJ?" said a young man, probably still an undergraduate in college. She turned on her six-inch stiletto pumps to face the man sitting in his seat, clicked over to him, and dropped her head into his lap. No one batted an eye, though Daniel did the same as some others and politely turned away from the man getting one of the free blowjobs the Metro Transit Authority was offering to compensate for raised rates. Daniel knew this, because one of the ads above the windows said so.
The reality set in as the train stopped at the 50th Street stop. The Scribe was real, and now Daniel had his powers.