07-03-2019, 01:42 AM
A witch type adjusts her goggles with a manic grin, fiddling with a mass of wires and pointing a clawed gauntlet at the booth's purveyor with a 'wink'. She smacks the device onto the barrel of the gun, and it lets out a puff of sparks -- a small little robot clambers out of her pocket, past Bartholomew and to the metal pole, clinging and buzzing with the witch type's passive, impulse-laden aura in hopes that he'll be driven to do <i>something</i> under the hex, helpful or not. She shoots at a one-point duck!