Haizea picks up a slice of bacon and chomps down on it. Crunchy, just the way she likes it.

“Damn Garrot, muted again?” she says around her mouthful, then gestures at the Wizard with a second piece of bacon. “Why don’t you make him a pancake that looks like your head instead? Bet your magic could whip up something like that.” Or could it? The Wizard’s sheer power and reality bending abilities are a given, but how much fine control does she have?