His fingers curl around the brim of his hat - a dark beige fedora to fit the season - and they twitch with the need to move, to be as animated as his anxiety calls for. He isn't sure if he's had enough to drink; he isn't sure if he's had too much.

"Is it the same dream if it," and here comes another pause, emphasized by the way he shifts his gaze to his hands and back up. It's disconcerting, not only talking about potentially invasive arcane procedures, but opening up. "If it's changed slightly?"

But that wasn't answering her question. "Twice. I've had it twice, and I know - third time's the charm, but I'm not sure I wanna be charmed, you know?"