A little show can't hurt, he supposes, though The Cut should be reserved for something else, what's a small display of power? He curls his fingers, and in a matter of seconds, the room dims considerably: enough to see, but shadows grow, stretch and devour, much like the fog outside.

Dimming the light is considerably easier than commanding them to do much more.

"Shadows," he says softly. "You need something to focus? An amplifier?"