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Hey, punk.
"It ain't pacifism, kid; it's common sense." The gunslinger grunts, and takes a half step back, though his hands are still on his weapons. "Just don't go nuts, yeah? I don't think anybody here wants to deal with a knife-wielding maniac.""Fine, but just be warned, all of you. Magic isn't everything, and neither is pacifism."
Tzuriel, now standing, throws up his hand again, about to shout another flurry of inquiries - but is interrupted by Harper. "Before ya scream my ears off again, you're stuck in this room with us, and you're probably from a different timeline than anybody else here."
The horned man lowers his arms. "Ah. I see..." He makes a square between his fingers, compressing the air nearby, until it's in the shape of a burning red cube. He twiddles it between his fingers. "Stuck in a cube, hmm? Not a position I expected to ever find myself in." He pushes his power out into the floor, but finds it cannot take hold of the white surface. Unfortunate, concerning, yes...