Magic's not real where he's from but he also had his blood-sucked dry by a dog turned into a dog-scorpion with bone appendages so.

Well.

Magic might be preferable.

And he's not so quick to dismiss it on account of him being dead, being dragged out of the pool, and... this.

I'm not doing it, man. I don't see anything. "I'm not doing it, man. I don't see anything." He gestures at the ground, like he's expecting to see his text scrolling in reply to the man's, similarly to a messaging-text window.

At least, despite Travis's concrete beliefs, he is currently maintaining the transmission.

Empty thoughts make it surprisingly easy for him.