"Don't be ridiculous," Dankovsky spits out resentfully. "Don't you dare even suggest the idea. Magic is precisely that-- magic. It is not supposed to make sense. The mere concept of it implies the impossible - the usage of higher forces. How in the world would you make sense of that?"

Of course Pyotr would find the idea endearing. He is not the right person to talk to, when it comes to this specific subject. It makes Dankovsky's head pound to just try and explain it to him.

"I'm sure you would do wonders," he says, quietly. "The Polyhedron was, in its own way, a miracle. I'm sure you'll find a place of your own in this community of insane men who play with sorcery."

Great. Now, he's bitter and angry. The drink is making it worse, too.