Blake shakes his head upon reading the questions, arms splaying as if to prove there's nowhere on him to hide these tricks he's being accused of playing. He understands the feeling, though, having been there himself even weeks after being introduced to the concept. For Blake's part, he avoids the magic as much as possible, and that includes utilizing this specific form of unsettling prestidigitation.

"Go on, pick any table," he says, gesturing around them in a way he hopes is obvious to Wrench. He presses the paper and pencil back towards the larger man, noting that he should keep it, but then points a second time, this time to a table that's only just opened up, and then an empty table nearby. And then he shifts in his seat and even makes a point to cover his eyes so Wrench's choice is less obvious to him.

The magic is common here. It doesn't exist where I come from.
The message appears wherever Wrench decides to go. And a second appears a moment later.

Come back and let's have those drinks.
Blake figures they'll need that and maybe a bit more paper. It's hard enough to explain this to himself, so Blake's hardly the person to school Wrench on the ins and outs of Abraxan magic.