He doesn't have to press the matter. Fully red in the face, Wysteria whirls round with a flare of skirts and storms from the office. The stamp of her stiff soled boots is audible for some seconds, and then is swallowed up by the restrictive architecture of the Gallows.
As for the projectile— well that too has gone as if it had never been thrown to begin with.
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As for the projectile— well that too has gone as if it had never been thrown to begin with.
no subject
It's with more force that he means that a thoughtless summoning of magic snags onto the door and slams it closed.