"Yes ma'am," he says automatically around the last of his giggles, sounding a little like he would if a stern nurse was trying to restore order in a chaotic meeting. He doesn't mean to! It just kinda slips out.

Crossing his legs and straightening his back a little, he clears his throat, returning to work. "Voco." Nope. "Voco."

The repetitive muttering and intense concentration continues a few more minutes. And then --

"Voco."

-- in the space between Radar's palms, a dense, shimmering swirl whips up. Not just the faint sparks of before; within seconds, it coalesces as a semi-translucent hand. He startles, yanking both of his other hands away. The magic one stays put where he left it.

Very, very carefully, as he keeps staring and focusing as hard as he can, it rotates and wiggles its fingers like it's waving hi.

Radar yells out in wordless, ecstatic triumph, so loud that one of the cows halfway across the field moos irritably. "FEVER! FEVER LOOK!!"