Ginia points at a nearby picnic table. It's slumping slightly, the wood legs most visible looking a bit askew.

"We were using that table for scrying. Right when it seemed like there was progress, the table gave and disrupted things." She smiles very dryly and huffs. "A stroke of bad luck one might say."

Fucking mild curses.

"He's going to take more time to prepare before trying a second time."