Without being able to take note of his surroundings by sight, Theo found himself clinging to every crumb she gave verbally, as if it would give him some new footing. She was a mediwitch – so perhaps she could not help him herself, but at least it didn’t sound like she was going to leave? – and they were busy with the duels. She wanted him to sit.

He sat, gingerly. “Sage,” he echoed, worried he would forget it if he didn’t drum it in, with the way his head ached. “Gallivan,” he returned, although he would have rather remained some anonymous idiot in these circumstances – but what was a little less dignity now? He’d had a bad enough day already. “– Theo.” He sighed, rueful. “You must hate duels.” A heap of needless work, the Spell Damage ward probably filled with idiot duellers.

(Or Theo was just amongst the unluckiest of them. That could also be true.)

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