Transcription

[[Mischief and the Gamester are floating over the city. He stands on a transparent white disc, while she is sitting tailor-fashion.]]
Mischief: You can say that again... Physically manifesting ourselves in this universe, where any mortal can see us...
Gamester: Relax, Mischief. I told you, the mortals will only see us if we choose for them to do so. There's the odd chance one might be more in tune with the higher planes and can see around our cloak. But the probability of that occurring is astronomical.
Mischief: Says the entity who deals with astronomical probabilities all the time...
Gamester: Touche.
Gamester: Nevertheless, our presense here is only temporary. We must find just where the Speck went before he encounters the other interlopers into this universe.

Mischief: We're not allowed to directly interfere... If the Trans-Dimensional Council finds out... or worse... *Justice*...
Gamester: The Council *won't* find out. As for Justice... He doesn't *need* the Council's auditors to know what we're doing.

Mischief: We're *so* banished to the Voids of Amagassar.
Gamester: I will handle Justice if the need arises. Until then, just concentrate on finding the Speck. He is our top priority. Then we'll deal with Nick and his friends.

Mischief: If you say so...
Mischief: I will say, though, that flying here is a lot more relaxing! It's weird...
Mischief: Most of the time, I feel so *confined*. Like we're trapped in tiny little boxes...