Credence really should answer the other part--say his theory, maybe get Sam to hear his, maybe even swap around, but there's something he can't really get past--not after he says it.

Credence's brows knit, confused, and then he leans a little forward. Had he not heard that right? Had he--was that possible? He supposes with Wizards, everything and anything was possible. Maybe Sam is from the same world as he is--maybe he knows about that secret community.

Shoulders still hunched, he leans just a little forward, and scarred palms are placed flat against the table so his knuckles show instead. He drops his voice, lower than usual, and speaks:

"Are they--how?"