Gertrude snorted in the vaguely unpleasant way she tended to exhibit her humor as the old man affirmed his existence through [i]flexing[/i].

"Yeah, old guy, that pretty much proves it. Definitely convinced me. Nobody smite this guy, he's the real deal," Gertrude announced as she took a seat near her homunculus. Though she made it out to be sarcasm, she could already imagine a few ways it could be within that Witch's power to do this. She didn't doubt that his being alive was a real possibility. At least, in [i]here[/i], wherever [i]here[/i] was.

...Gertrude wondered, briefly, if she could lift his soul. If she could transport him from this place. It was a worthwhile experiment, but she wasn't sure what would happen if one Witch's rule-breaking BS was combined with another's. Complete spatial collapse? Maybe. Could be funny. The humor probably wouldn't last, though. Much as she hated that she was still a novice, Gertrude would probably have to consult with the old bag.

Quickly settling into an epic lethargy, Gertrude picked Fanilly out of the crowd and snapped at her.

"Hey, squire," she rudely assumed based on the girl's height and general uncertain demeanor, "go bring us some food. We're getting hungry. We like meats and sweets."

"But we hate carrots and bell peppers, so we don't want anything with that garbage in it," the homunculus added in a commanding, if bratty, sort of tone.