[ Damen had not heard Laurent approach, but it's not a surprise. He stops mid-aim, thrown off by the interruption, and he lets out an irritated breath. He glances at Laurent and then nods behind him, where the previous booth is still smoking. ]

Perhaps it was not real then, either. This is some foul magic.

[ He takes aim again, fingers gripping the dart. When he lets it fly, it's another bullseye, and of course the required score ticks up again. Damen feels a muscle sliding in his jaw. ]

Do you see? They're mocking us, these gods and their toys.