[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/G9xaVXn.png[/img]
[color=000000][u][b]Location[/b][/u][/color]
💀 Happy Harbour.

[color=000000][u][b]Interactions[/b][/u][/color]
💀 Those Present.
[/center]
[hr]
Spectral spheres eyed the early morning, tail slowly swaying at the sensation of a windy breeze. Divorced from temperature, Casper could still appreciate comfort accompanying the motions as sunlit gales gently caressed the Wraithborn’s cheeks. As if on reflex, clawed fingers rose to gently adjust the purple scarf so frequently positioned by the boy’s neck, a habit from when he still drew breath, perhaps? It was somewhat different, seeing his companions all gathered in one location, rather than spread out across rooms and hallways, much like the previous day. Gently rocking back and forth on the soles of his feet, Casper’s hands slipped into his jacket pockets, a slight frown managing its way to his features as the sun aimed bright rays at the deathly creature, Casper’s Necrotic shroud keeping him safe from relentless bombardment. 

Physical training had never been his forté, and today nothing would change. Casper was unable to build muscle, or in any way alter his body. The boy was far weaker than that of an average human, and notably useless in a physical altercation. Rather, Casper’s entire repertoire of usefulness hailed from his magic. It begged the question, what would he have done in the situation currently witnessed? Conjuring forth Necrotic magic to attack his aggressors before they could reach him was an option, but that boiled down to exactly how skilled they were. Black Canary was a prime example of someone who would have utilized her advance and her stride to avoid being hit, all the while closing the distance between herself and Casper, giving her the upper hand. There was a reason as to why the Wraithborn felt most comfortable at a distance. 

Rather, in a scenario where his assailant already possessed the advantage of distance, Casper’s first move would have to be logistical. Through means of his spectral magic, the boy would shift locations, phasing his body to another nearby location which shifted the advantage. Unlike Green Arrow, Casper could not hold his own in melee combat, and required quick thinking. Powers or not, Hex was taught by both his mother and Zatanna never to underestimate an opponent. A bullet unhindered by magical defenses would kill him, and arrogance paved a sure path to defeat. 

Shifting his attention to Talon, the Wraithborn found himself agreeing with what had been said. It lined up well enough with the boy’s own deduction. Oddly enough, even Coal was silently watching this unfold. Though a playful bird, the spirit knew full well the importance of training. When Casper and Coal were alone, other rules applied, but in a scenario like this, another position was adopted. Most of Casper’s enemies were going to be alive and use weapons, rather than spiritual entities wielding powers. He had to adapt, and quickly.