As the breakfast sandwich is evidence, he might just like feeding that troll. He's good.
"I have no idea how he was in New York. But I agree with the general sentiment."
He'll have some coffee himself, obviously taking a moment to savor it, get a taste of the flavor notes, pick up on whether someone might think it's sweet or tart or sharp or bitter. He enjoys it, as one might do if one's taste was initially treated to a variety of alcohols.
"All I'll say is, the Order of the Fallen Star was behind the best trick doors some rich magical shitheads could come up with, and you two are gonna go through them like they're one plus one."
He watches John contemplate the flavour of the coffee, and part of him wants to ask how he likes it, but they've run a long way from the topic and he's... preoccupied by it. Particularly now that he's remembering the magic those chucklefucks wielded.
"This ain't, uh, any kind of..." He's struggling with how to say it neutrally. And he doesn't think John would suggest this, not to him, but he has to ask anyway for his own peace of mind. "I mean, it'd be all me, right? Not some kinda... contract or channelling or... I-I don't wanna touch that."
He shakes his head. Firmly. And then he shakes it again.
"I wouldn't assume you would. No, I would be teaching you a skill and you would learn the skill. I'm not even sure it would work in our world. The magic performed there is..." he frowns, because he knows he, he can do it, he is it in a sense, but he doesn't tend to use it. The potential chance harm is a little too great for him to be comfortable.
He shakes his head one more time.
"What I'd be teaching is what I learned here. And it uses the ambient energy available here to work, from what I understand."
Both eyebrows go up, impressed, because despite the small amount of chanty bullshit his first thought is how useful this'd be if Alan found himself without his lamps and torches.
"Whaddaya know. Turns out I'm an easy mark."
The cool thing about a really good poker face is that even you don't have to know quite how nervous you are about pursuing this! More readily than before, now that he has a concrete use case:
"Yeah, I'd learn that."
If it works, he'll want to try setting up a teaching date between John and Mr Wake, as well. Or figure out teaching it himself. It's basically tailored for the guy.
John lights up almost as much as the communicator at Charlie's agreement.
"Then I'll teach you and Arthur." He rolls his eyes a little. "Arthur almost certainly knows more charter spells than he realizes but he should learn these too." A pause. "That's something he learned at a port. I think he forgets it's there half the time."
"They came from a world that we visited. They're similar to these, but since we left the port, they've lost a significant amount of their... 'oomf', so to speak. They require a mark, which we all received at the port. Arthur was..." he pauses then, because this is a little more complicated.
"There are times when, um... when someone experiences a port as more of a breach. That is to say: they suddenly exist in that world, as someone who lives there. It's called 'going overboard' but I can't say I know for certain if that's what actually happens to cause it. In that instance, Arthur went 'overboard'."
Oh he hates that. He cannot exaggerate how much he hates that. He'd sort of mentally categorised ports as the safest of the three, in ascending order of horrifying from port to flood to breach. If this absolutely has to be a thing then he knows he'll be glad John warned him, but -- new fear fucking unlocked.
...So, his poker face can hold up to a lot, but there are angles at which it cracks much more easily. His eyes get wider and his mouth gets thinner, and then he opens it to say something, and then he looks quickly down and to the side instead. Picks up his mug again in a sort of futile imitation of just ducking his head to drink, and then doesn't actually drink and puts it down again.
John's getting a feel for when something's thrown Charlie for a loop. And because he knows what's going on, he doesn't have to ask. He can just nod, sip his coffee, dip his head in a thankful gesture as if to say 'thanks for pouring out for me, buddy' without using his voice, and watch to see if there's anything Charlie needs.
All right. Game face. Business time. It won't just be spooky bullshit, it'll be his spooky bullshit, and more importantly it'll be making him better at his job.
Or maybe it'll fail completely and he'll be mildly disappointed to lose the opportunity, and mildly relieved to lose the opportunity.
"How bout this." He reaches along the breakfast bar and slides over that stupid pack of novelty cards that he never played with David.
He looks at the pack of cards and... hmm. He wonders if one casts the spell on a deck, would each card also have the illumination? Something to check later. But for now-
"That works. Now there's a verbal part. Other than that, you just need to be touching the thing."
And he'll pause before holding up his communicator again and intoning the spell. It's clearly just a word but it's in a gutteral and hissing language. It doesn't sound 'dark' or 'evil', just a little beastial. But the communicator lights again.
Honestly that's the reason Charlie chose a thing made out of other things. He wants an idea of the parameters.
The instructions are suspiciously simple. The language is-- he wonders for a second if it's from the Dreamlands, and then decides in the same second that he doesn't even slightly want to know. He just makes some noises in his throat, getting the sound right, then says it a couple times, getting the pronunciation right, then picks up the deck and aims his intention at it in the way that seems correct, and says the word, and the card deck lights up brightly.
He puts it down sharply as if it's hot, and takes a step back that's just as sharp. There's a strange aftertaste as if the light was struck off one of his bones.
"It can't be that easy."
He's staring at it -- squinting, really, with one hand half-blocking it, because, like John's spell, looking at it directly is like staring into a bright flashlight.
God, the thing is that that makes sense, except that egg and pan are pretty normal and heat is something that he's never seen outside of gods' interference.
Except on the Barge. Ambient energy, John said. Plus the immediate difference that it's something he's doing, not something being done to or at him.
He looks at John. Raises an eyebrow. Looks back at the cards. Steps forward again very steadily. Starts reaching for the cards, then diverts his hand to the ashtray nearby instead and says the word again, pushes the little spark of intent forward again. The ashtray lights up, and the deck of cards goes out.
"Huh," says Charlie in a tone of hardboiled observation, though inside he doesn't know what to call what he's feeling. "One at a time, I guess."
He nods, and it's a useful place where he can show him more of how things work.
"There's a small conduit between you and the item that keeps the light going in this spell. It's like... unplugging one thing to plug in another. Some spells don't require a... 'plug'. They have... um... batteries. If that makes sense."
He squints at the sunbeam of an ashtray and tilts it in his hand. His nerves are still trying hard to jangle but they're doing it from a distance, and good riddance.
This is utility, he decides, flipping that switch with an ease that would surprise him if he let himself think about it. Useful for his duties, helpful for Alan's fears, far from the weirdest thing he's ever done, a long way from the worst thing he's ever choked down.
He's on the verge of asking how to close the conduit-- but it seems, in fact, intuitive to reverse the push, like breathing in again after breathing out. And the light winks out of the ashtray.
John, on the other hand, beams. Charlie getting a hang for it, a feel for it- hopefully it will translate to him having a good understanding of when or if something's being meddled with so he'll be able to keep his feet under him more often when it comes up.
"It seems like you have a pretty good handle on the concepts so far. Would you like to try another one?"
Charlie stares at the ashtray for another second, lowkey gobsmacked. Then he puts it gently down and looks at John. The faint suggestion of an intrigued grin is there at the corners of his mouth, almost looking confused to be there.
"You bet," he says evenly, more sure about it this time. The pressing question, now that they've broken the seal on the idea, is how much wild shit he can do here that he had no idea about. "Whaddaya got on deck?"
John's going to hold up a hand, do a gesture, and speak a word, at which point a black clawed spectral hand with tattered yellow fabric around the wrist appears in front of him. He winces a little before turning his hand towards it.
"You can use this to pick up or manipulate small things, nothing over five pounds or so, but it's still pretty helpful. You can open a door or move a pan. Little simple things."
He'll pull his communicator out of his pocket and hold it out for the hand to take and bring over to Charlie. He will have him put it down on the counter instead of expecting him to touch it.
"...the appearance tends to... have something to do with the caster."
"I figured," drawls Charlie, who mostly kept his startle under wraps when the spectral hand appeared.
"Give me that word and the-- hand wriggle again?"
And when John does, he'll try it, pushing the same intent into it as before until -- like someone trying to whistle -- he gets the shape of it perfect and a hand appears in the air between them. It's ghostly, but, thank goodness, it's human-looking.
"That's somethin'," says Charlie, impressed, because it's-- oh, that's weird. He moves the ghostly hand at the same time as his real one, then moves the former... somewhat separately, though his real fingers twitch as he tries to separate out the-- what? The brain signals?
He's wearing a look of intense concentration as he does this, staring at the hand like someone trying to hook a particularly tricky duck at the fair.
"Come on, you little bastard," he coaxes it, and flashes a grin as he successfully crooks most of its fingers without pulling his physical fingers along with them.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"I have no idea how he was in New York. But I agree with the general sentiment."
He'll have some coffee himself, obviously taking a moment to savor it, get a taste of the flavor notes, pick up on whether someone might think it's sweet or tart or sharp or bitter. He enjoys it, as one might do if one's taste was initially treated to a variety of alcohols.
no subject
He watches John contemplate the flavour of the coffee, and part of him wants to ask how he likes it, but they've run a long way from the topic and he's... preoccupied by it. Particularly now that he's remembering the magic those chucklefucks wielded.
"This ain't, uh, any kind of..." He's struggling with how to say it neutrally. And he doesn't think John would suggest this, not to him, but he has to ask anyway for his own peace of mind. "I mean, it'd be all me, right? Not some kinda... contract or channelling or... I-I don't wanna touch that."
no subject
"I wouldn't assume you would. No, I would be teaching you a skill and you would learn the skill. I'm not even sure it would work in our world. The magic performed there is..." he frowns, because he knows he, he can do it, he is it in a sense, but he doesn't tend to use it. The potential chance harm is a little too great for him to be comfortable.
He shakes his head one more time.
"What I'd be teaching is what I learned here. And it uses the ambient energy available here to work, from what I understand."
no subject
"...What kinda thing would I be learning to do?"
He can give a lot of things consideration if there's utility in it.
no subject
"That's one of the spells."
no subject
"Whaddaya know. Turns out I'm an easy mark."
The cool thing about a really good poker face is that even you don't have to know quite how nervous you are about pursuing this! More readily than before, now that he has a concrete use case:
"Yeah, I'd learn that."
If it works, he'll want to try setting up a teaching date between John and Mr Wake, as well. Or figure out teaching it himself. It's basically tailored for the guy.
no subject
"Then I'll teach you and Arthur." He rolls his eyes a little. "Arthur almost certainly knows more charter spells than he realizes but he should learn these too." A pause. "That's something he learned at a port. I think he forgets it's there half the time."
no subject
"What are charter spells when they're at home?"
no subject
"They came from a world that we visited. They're similar to these, but since we left the port, they've lost a significant amount of their... 'oomf', so to speak. They require a mark, which we all received at the port. Arthur was..." he pauses then, because this is a little more complicated.
"There are times when, um... when someone experiences a port as more of a breach. That is to say: they suddenly exist in that world, as someone who lives there. It's called 'going overboard' but I can't say I know for certain if that's what actually happens to cause it. In that instance, Arthur went 'overboard'."
no subject
...So, his poker face can hold up to a lot, but there are angles at which it cracks much more easily. His eyes get wider and his mouth gets thinner, and then he opens it to say something, and then he looks quickly down and to the side instead. Picks up his mug again in a sort of futile imitation of just ducking his head to drink, and then doesn't actually drink and puts it down again.
"Huh," he says, blandly. "Didn't know that."
no subject
no subject
"Somethin' else to look forward to, I guess. Did you wanna get a lesson in now, or another time?"
Yeah, the tyres are screeching on that conversational reroute, what of it.
no subject
John smiles and gestures to his communicator as he kills the spell on it. Then he looks to Charlie.
"Pick something you'd want to make emit light."
no subject
Or maybe it'll fail completely and he'll be mildly disappointed to lose the opportunity, and mildly relieved to lose the opportunity.
"How bout this." He reaches along the breakfast bar and slides over that stupid pack of novelty cards that he never played with David.
no subject
"That works. Now there's a verbal part. Other than that, you just need to be touching the thing."
And he'll pause before holding up his communicator again and intoning the spell. It's clearly just a word but it's in a gutteral and hissing language. It doesn't sound 'dark' or 'evil', just a little beastial. But the communicator lights again.
no subject
The instructions are suspiciously simple. The language is-- he wonders for a second if it's from the Dreamlands, and then decides in the same second that he doesn't even slightly want to know. He just makes some noises in his throat, getting the sound right, then says it a couple times, getting the pronunciation right, then picks up the deck and aims his intention at it in the way that seems correct, and says the word, and the card deck lights up brightly.
He puts it down sharply as if it's hot, and takes a step back that's just as sharp. There's a strange aftertaste as if the light was struck off one of his bones.
"It can't be that easy."
He's staring at it -- squinting, really, with one hand half-blocking it, because, like John's spell, looking at it directly is like staring into a bright flashlight.
no subject
"Cooking an egg is just egg, pan, heat. But if you do it wrong, you don't get what you were looking for. Do it right and you do. Same thing."
no subject
Except on the Barge. Ambient energy, John said. Plus the immediate difference that it's something he's doing, not something being done to or at him.
He looks at John. Raises an eyebrow. Looks back at the cards. Steps forward again very steadily. Starts reaching for the cards, then diverts his hand to the ashtray nearby instead and says the word again, pushes the little spark of intent forward again. The ashtray lights up, and the deck of cards goes out.
"Huh," says Charlie in a tone of hardboiled observation, though inside he doesn't know what to call what he's feeling. "One at a time, I guess."
no subject
"There's a small conduit between you and the item that keeps the light going in this spell. It's like... unplugging one thing to plug in another. Some spells don't require a... 'plug'. They have... um... batteries. If that makes sense."
no subject
He squints at the sunbeam of an ashtray and tilts it in his hand. His nerves are still trying hard to jangle but they're doing it from a distance, and good riddance.
This is utility, he decides, flipping that switch with an ease that would surprise him if he let himself think about it. Useful for his duties, helpful for Alan's fears, far from the weirdest thing he's ever done, a long way from the worst thing he's ever choked down.
He's on the verge of asking how to close the conduit-- but it seems, in fact, intuitive to reverse the push, like breathing in again after breathing out. And the light winks out of the ashtray.
"I'll be goddamned," he says softly.
no subject
"It seems like you have a pretty good handle on the concepts so far. Would you like to try another one?"
no subject
"You bet," he says evenly, more sure about it this time. The pressing question, now that they've broken the seal on the idea, is how much wild shit he can do here that he had no idea about. "Whaddaya got on deck?"
no subject
"You can use this to pick up or manipulate small things, nothing over five pounds or so, but it's still pretty helpful. You can open a door or move a pan. Little simple things."
He'll pull his communicator out of his pocket and hold it out for the hand to take and bring over to Charlie. He will have him put it down on the counter instead of expecting him to touch it.
"...the appearance tends to... have something to do with the caster."
no subject
"Give me that word and the-- hand wriggle again?"
And when John does, he'll try it, pushing the same intent into it as before until -- like someone trying to whistle -- he gets the shape of it perfect and a hand appears in the air between them. It's ghostly, but, thank goodness, it's human-looking.
"That's somethin'," says Charlie, impressed, because it's-- oh, that's weird. He moves the ghostly hand at the same time as his real one, then moves the former... somewhat separately, though his real fingers twitch as he tries to separate out the-- what? The brain signals?
He's wearing a look of intense concentration as he does this, staring at the hand like someone trying to hook a particularly tricky duck at the fair.
"Come on, you little bastard," he coaxes it, and flashes a grin as he successfully crooks most of its fingers without pulling his physical fingers along with them.
no subject
"I use it for cooking sometimes. Or for getting the door."
(no subject)
(no subject)