“Nick pulled a business card out of a pocket and handed it to Elphaba. It read Nicholas Lynch, Inspector, Ministry of Magick, next to a moving image of Nick, mugging for the camera. “I finally get to use my Harry Potter business cards!”

“I think," Nick snarled, "that the stupid bastard isn't smart enough to win a poker hand with a deck of marked cards.”

“Adults are living increasingly as children: completely in their imaginations. Reading Harry Potter while every newspaper in the country goes out of business. They know so little that is real.”

“I didn’t think—” Nick began.“You didn’t think! That’s your problem, Nick, you just don’t think!”Nick struggled to respond.“You’re invulnerable,” Elphaba continued. “You’re immortal. You’re ancient. Nothing fazes you. No situation is too dangerous for you. Chop off your hand, or your head, or pull your liver out and eat it with some fava beans, you don’t care! In a few minutes you’ll be right as rain.”Elphaba took a deep breath. “But the rest of us aren’t like that, Nick. I only have the one liver, and I need it, thank you very much.” Elphaba’s diaphragm rapidly rose and fell.”

“Make no mistake, Elphaba, Goddess Magick was potent in the old days. During the Dark Ages the Catholic Church had their hands full fighting it. Unfortunately, in large measure the Church won that war, relegating Wicca, Druidism and the rest to the fringes of society. With vastly weakened power.”“Except yours, Nick.”“I’ve always been a special case, Elphaba,” Nick explained. “Even though I began my career as an alchemist, I soon turned away from that practice and forged my own path. I uncovered my own secrets and kept them secret. That’s how I was able to maintain my power for so long.”

“Only assholes put a nickname on their business card.”