Something glows through his sleeve.

"Can I have a closer look at your left arm before this wears off?" Amariah asks.

He takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. "I would rather you didn't."

"Why, what is it?" asks Juliet.

"One of the hazards of working magic," he says. "Particularly, of working magic while young and stupid."

"It... seems to have given you a superpower, so what are the dire and ooky drawbacks?"

"I'm sorry," says Juliet.

"Damn, I wish I could teach my witchcraft," murmurs Amariah, picking up Path from her shoulder and petting his feathers. "Much better deal - what were you doing, then, if you'll talk about it?"

"Summoning a demon to get high." He puts his glasses back on. "And I am now done talking about it."

"I'm really sorry about your friend," says Juliet.

"How in the world does summoning a - right, done talking about it, right," says Amariah. "Well, now we know why you can see me through the notice-me-not and it's not going to be common, I imagine. I hope."

"There are perhaps four other people alive who share this distinction," he says with a gesture indicating the upper part of his left arm, "and last I saw any of them was in London."

"Sunnydale is in California," Juliet supplies to Amariah before Amariah can ask.

"So not near London, then. Okay. Existing precautions adequate."

"Glad that's settled," mutters Giles.

"...I promise never to do any magic that's primarily motivated by recreational psychological side effects," volunteers Juliet tentatively.

"Thank you," he says, looking away.

Right. Done talking about it. Books and notetaking and setting a timer on her phone to get home before curfew.

Amariah works alongside her. They take such similar notes, there's no reason not to divide the work.

Giles watches them with a certain amount of curiosity. Dimensional alternates is new.

"...Do you want to quiz me about my home dimension, or something?" Amariah offers. "I mean, I can also take notes, but she's got to read them to know the contents anyway, it doesn't save as much time as it looks like."

"...You've mentioned that your magic isn't teachable," he says. "How did you come by it?"

"I'm a witch. It's a species where I come from. Sort of, I mean - witches are all women, if we're going to make more witches we pretty much have to find mortals to cooperate, so my dad is just a human. Our sons are mortal, our daughters are witches. I've been doing simple nursery-rhyme level spells since I could talk, although I didn't start learning systematically until I could fly." She has her cloud-pine with her; there's enough scary stuff in this town that she wants to be able to put Juliet on it as a passenger and zoom out of wherever she's at at two hundred miles an hour without having to retrieve it from somewhere. She gestures with the branch. "When I was not quite six."