Oz smirked. "I doubt you've revealed all your secrets," he pointed out. She had divulged nothing at all, and certainly nothing she hadn't wanted him to know. Not that he'd expected any less; she had called it a performance, after all, not a confessional. (He wouldn't have minded knowing what spellwork had been at play just a minute ago, though; he'd keep that question in the back of his mind for some future conversation, where asking wouldn't give too much of the game away).

"I'm afraid I'm scant on party tricks," he admitted. "I'm an inventor. Most of my work is too slow and methodical to entertain anyone. I do occasionally make things spontaneously combust, but — I doubt your manager would appreciate that."

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