It feels ominous to Wrench, truth be told. Even sitting here across from Ed he’s about as relaxed as he ever gets, and yet something about him portrays the aura of a man who’s used to knowing where he stands. Wrench has always been good at sizing people up. By now it’s second nature to walk into a room and imagine all of the ways any given person might be able to get something over on him. Hell, it’s almost like a soothing thought exercise. But when any given person he encounters in his day-to-day might know how to throw fireballs or direct blades around blind corners with only their minds, it’s a lot harder to figure out where threats might be coming from.

He watches Ed give so much of his energy to the candle, and thinks he knows what the man is thinking. Maybe it’s a little bit of a relief that it stays dim. At least there’s someone here who might be a little less magically-inclined than Wrench himself. He thinks about telling Ed that they could probably learn. Surely they wouldn’t have to look far to find someone who could explain the magic of sparking a flame as easily as his “just-think-in-my-direction” coaching.

Then Ed goes on, and Wrench finds the man’s next words totally unrelatable.

You’re Solvunn too, then? What would you prefer to grass?

Honestly, the man looks like he’d be just as lost amid concrete and skyscrapers as Wrench knows he would feel.