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John
Wearing the robes that Q had given him, having charmed them to a dark purple, Eliot went up to the deck for some air. This was really... not where he had imagined himself.
John almost looked offended to find out he didn't rate.
"Ah. Oh, well. You gonna hold my sextant?" he asked then, flashing a cheeky smile.
"Not really," he admitted. "But I do need to work, so you can help, or stay out of the way, hmm?"
Rather than any tool, John produced a pipe and began to fill it to smoke since the sun was still hanging above the horizon for the moment.
"Ah, now you've opened the proverbial can of worms," John chuckled and motioned Eliot closer to show him the charts and notes and maps as well as the different tools he used to find all the stars could tell.
The moon was up and the sky dark enough for stars by the time he finished.
"That I am," John said with a smug grin. "A person with talents should use them, don't you think?"
"Maybe that wasn't where your real talent was," John suggested.
"Working for Q, hmm?" John asked.
That impressed him, and he nodded.
"Give it time, lad," John assured him.
And he didn't feel bad at all advising the young man to stick it out until Bond had used him for all he was worth.
"When there's no other options," he confirmed with a nod. "But my sort of magic doesn't leave much to salvage, so we try not to."
"That's because Brakebills would rather burn down than produce a warlock," he chuckled. "It's dark magic, lad. Not to be played with."
"And still..." he said, lifting a finger to make his point, "...No warlocks. And no, I'm not going to teach you. Not any time soon, anyway. You need to focus."
"That? I will help you with," hevassured him then.
He blinked in confusion at that.
"You did...what now?" he asked.
The lad could decimate a forest...cinnamon?
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