Perhaps it was rather insensitive of him to find this whole thing profoundly funny, but he did. At least so long as he wasn't being asked to go cover it, Frederick could watch his paper for updates about the spread of the fog in Irvingly without any sense of actual concern. The only people he knew who lived in Irvingly were Cassandra and Miriam Trelawney, and after Miriam's sour-faced visit last week, he was hardly feeling inclined to worry for their sake. Besides, it wasn't as though there was any indication that this fog was actually causing harm. Not being able to use magic inside their home was, at best, a minor inconvenience — but one that amused him greatly to picture.

"I suppose," he commented to Sarah as he set the paper down and reached for one of the apples on the table, which looked to be on the verge of going off but was still close enough to food for his tastes at the moment. "That this means your sisters won't be dropping by any time soon with ominous prophetic visions."

Was the Sight affected by the inability to use magic? He hoped so. He'd always thought Cassandra's visions were just a little too attention-seeking for his tastes, and that she might secretly be enjoying the cultivation of her very-mysterious, highly-tormented air, but he hadn't ever said as much to Sarah (and certainly not to any of her siblings).