"Well, if I don't make it, you can have dibs on those and my journal of incredibly useful observations on the new ways we've all learned to do laundry."

Kira's knowledge is equally dim, and his eyes tip into a roll that matches the rest of him. Given the choice to explain it or let Mark keep making bullshit up, he still doesn't launch into specifics. He takes the time to lean forward across the table, busying his hands on the thin papers and little jar of weed.

"The shit I can do with people, my mother does with stuff. We're not the same, even if we can both pick up a pack of cards and tell you not to get on the midnight train next Tuesday. I could probably carve the same symbols into something, I do remember what they look like--but what they're made out of isn't as important as the power of the person making it. I can write them on the tags of my clothes and see what happens, but I can't count on it."