Finnegas flicked ash from his cigarette and pointed at me with it. “If you were smart, you’d have dried your clothes with magic.” I tsked and smiled wryly. “My control isn’t that good yet, and you know it. I’d rather not singe my pubes off, so I’ll deal with wet pants for now, thank you very much.” The old man snickered. “I keep telling you that you need to practice the small, inconsequential skills just as much as the big, flashy spells.”
LOL would hurt to singe them alright
