[Raylan manages not to jump, when his cousin and the dog he would prefer being related to appear from the designated alley at the designated time without a sound. It's his inclination, yes, but he manages to restrain himself to resting a hand on the gun at the small of his back.

Werewolves, wizards, magic. It's one thing to say all that business is a possibility in the world and quite another to stare down a rainbow doorway to Neverland, or whatever it was Harry called the place.

Fairies. Fairies.] Y'know, this would be substantially simpler if you Harry Potter folks could actually fly. Wouldn't leave me trying to explain how a man who was in Chicago this morning can be in Lexington this afternoon without apparently booking a flight through legitimate sources. Or, I don't know, ask that Marcone if he can spare you a plane for the day, there's a thought. Why not. Just wave your stick around and make it glow a bit and he'd probably give the thing to you for Christmas.

[He's rambling. He hates it when he does that unintentionally, so, reasonably enough, he stops.] How do you want to do this. Talk to your Paranet people first, or hear what I've drummed up in the mean time.