[By herself, he echoes in his head, and he can hear his own disapproval in it. That kind of raw power, self-taught? Maybe he just can’t imagine it, a sorcerer who was taken under the wing of those more knowledgeable when he was learning — who owes much to the people who gave him that time and effort, whether or not they still live.

He looks at her, pointed and concerned. Tired, too, as much as she seems to be. He hears it in her tone — the walls shoring up, the unwillingness to say more. What was open, once, is now closed.]

That’s… fair, I guess.

[Sighing, he pushes himself to his feet, a hand scrubbing at his face to finally banish all signs of moisture that clung to his cheekbones.]

But it’s a conversation overdue, Wanda. Once this circus business is settled, we need to talk.

[Stern… but with a little bit of give. He offers her a hand up.]

For now, let’s just head back. You can walk okay?