He wants to object that he can't, he's never done anything to anything lighter than fifty pounds without breaking whatever it was or flinging it away. But there are people watching and he always does as he's told. He never turns orders down. Ilya is a good guy and that means he takes the paper with his mind even though the familiar sensation of panic sends metaphorical icicles trickling down his back.

At first he can't even hold the thing still, and it wavers up and down violently, as if pulled in opposite directions. He tries to remember the tips he was just given, tries to picture paper in his hands, the motion of folding it.

Without warning, it crumples into the smallest, tightest ball imaginable, and ends up flying across the library.

Ilya hangs his head, embarrassed and feeling stupid and new and it was a complete mistake to come here but if they give him another chance, he'll try harder. He has to bite his lip to calm himself. "...I'm so sorry."