"Alright," he answers, raking his tongue over his teeth as he squares the deck, her card disappearing into it. He takes a moment following, to give it a good shuffle, then produces what appears to be the box for the deck, pushing the cards inside. Once it's closed, he presses it between his hands, holding it up in front of him in a vaguely awkward gesture of prayer, and then starts rubbing it between his hands at increasing speed. Somewhere along the way, like a stick rubbed against some kindling in an attempt to start a fire, smoke begins to roil from the box, and alarmed, Dylan drops it onto the table.

"Uh," he drawls, looking back and forth between her and the still smoking box, his expression caught somewhere between nervousness and embarrassment, "it's not really supposed to do that ... " Never mind the fact that he seems to be in no hurry to put the box out, even as the smoke its putting off becomes more real. It's all part of the trick.


[ooc: So sorry for taking forever on this. I literally haven't have five minutes to myself for about a month, now.]