Victor snatched up his cloak as the lamp blew out, leaving only shadows throughout the room.  His guise of being an awkward halfwit magician had been compromised.  He swore at himself for being so careless, but perhaps he could salvage some of his nights work.<br/><br/>He wove a mixture of incantations on the stale air of the room, while his body assumed its previous form beneath the cloak.  Hopefully the commotion and spells, combined with the liquor of the night would cast enough doubt in Abia’s mind.<br/><br/>Victor struck a match and re-lit the lamp.  “My apologies, barmaid, my form was grotesquely disfigured by disease.  I can only imagine how horrid it must have been.  I didn’t know you were returning.”