"Oh dear, the poor thing--- They really MUST put rails on these things!" coos Ember, as he tucks out the wand concealed under one of the half-sleeves of his gown, and gives it a mindless flick toward the man in the wheelchair, then just as nonchalantly, tucks it back again.

Obnoxiously flamboyant and billowing clouds of sparkles and mist coalesce under the errant wheel of the chair, lift it gently up on that side just above the surface of the gangplank, then nudge it back on before evaporating in the light breeze.

"Now, where were we?"