heat of the night {open}

A M U N I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife Spreading his arms a bit, showing off his distinctly lack of layers, Amun just shrugged. "I'll take your word for it." There was a gently teasing tone to his voice, but none of the cruelty he'd shown Oliver in the past. Nodding, the potter grinned. "I really think so, from one artist to another. And fingers crossed more customers show up soon." He lifted his hand to do the aforementioned gesture. Leaning forward so he could look at the forge, he rocked back as the blacksmith returned. "That'll do. And I asked the Voice for another upgrade. She needs me to do a few things with this metal here to make it for me." The Ascended held the ball out, palm face up. "Have it lifted with telekinesis, throw it in a hot fire, and have it struck by lightning." Grinning, he rolled it a bit. "But it doesn't look like your forge is at its hottest right now, and I don't want you to waste resources on this. Maybe just shoot me a note next time you're working and I can toss this in there?" Again, there was that tentatively hopeful tone to his voice that didn't really seem like it belonged on Amun.