Ezra straightened his back and settled properly on the throw pillow.
He adjusted his sitting position, making sure he wouldn't lose his balance again.
"Focus, Young Alchemist."
Duke Valentine spoke firmly, his eyes resting on Ezra.
The words brought Ezra's attention back to the Colt 1911 in his hands.
He had been so focused on examining the firearm that he had nearly forgotten how it had reached him in the first place.
Ezra lowered his gaze to the handgun.
His expression remained mostly plain, but a trace of surprise showed in his eyes.
"It's weightless."
The words escaped him in faint shock.
When he had caught the Colt 1911, he had felt its weight.
The force behind its flight had nearly sent him rolling off the throw pillow, even though the Duke hadn't used much strength to propel it towards him.
Yet now, the firearm felt almost as if he were holding nothing at all.
Ezra adjusted his grip, moving his fingers around the handle before raising the pistol slightly.
