Ember heaved a big, weary sigh.

"Being beautiful's my BUSINESS dahling. If you weren't at least a little intrigued, I didn't do a good job-- but from now on, mind mine and other's privacy-- rest assured, when I'm not sunburnt and seasoaked, the fire I conjure is a lot hotter than that little potwarmer dahling. Even a construct might find it unpleasant.'

Ember tilted his head discretely. He had head rumors of sentient constructs, and read treatises on simple ones used as 'anchor prostheses' for mages who had, through one way or another, been 'discorporeated'. Some magicians in poor health used them as proxies with powerful sending circles to do daily tasks while their withered bodies stayed home. Then there was the nasty business of killer magicians using them as disposable muscle. He discretely wondered which this individual was, but felt best not to pry. Surely one animated by a sending would just be written off, and a new one constructed... maybe this one was sentimental, or specially prepared somehow?  Surely, this wasn't a mythical homunculus doll... surely not. 

Artificial souls were mere conjecture!

'Oh well--  FINE.  Just never do it again.'