[Wesley is seated in a corner, by the fake fireplace, drinking more whiskey. It seems fortuitous that the bar is constantly restocked. What he's doing is the equivalent of silent and bitter brooding. He's trying to ignore the presence in the room with him. Mostly because Claire's identity is still being held hostage by the man.]
[ clyde is learning some things. one: magic is fun and not as trite and useless as it sounds. two: magic is frustrating, what with its focus on experience and spiritual balance; it's not quite fooled by a quickly uploaded skill imprint. but he's certainly mastered a couple of tricks effortlessly, which he's taking a moment to celebrate, having tracked down some cuban cigars. he pulls the one he's brought with him out of his breast pocket, and lights it with the flame at the end of his thumb.
oh, the applications some visionary thinking is going to take this to. ]
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oh, the applications some visionary thinking is going to take this to. ]
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Given yourself some new parlour tricks, I see.
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[ he lets out a puff of smoke and collects it in his hand in an intangible sphere. ]
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