Chase flips him off, finger lingering high up in the air for several beats before he answers. "I don't know. They have to seek it out, right? People who'll do this shit, there's enough fucked up about that." He drops his hand back down, running his thumb over the corner of his mouth. Sometimes, he thinks about the sort of person he is. Not often, but sometimes. He probably ought to feel guilty or something: instead he just feels angry. At the world, at his useless, dead father, at all the witches who got a fair shot to live out their lives because someone told them what the magic could do. He gets angry, and then he gets back to the high, and then it doesn't matter. "I bet a bunch of saps agreed to it to save their planet, or whatever." He rolls over so he can prop himself up on his elbows and look over at Jack. "I told them I'd sign twice as fast if they'd burn mine up first. Turns out, that's not really how it works."