"Wow. Must be crowded in there." He said it with sympathy, his brow creasing a little beneath his wild hair.

"Sorry if I freaked you out... it's what I was actually starting to mention. This power I have? I call it my Craydar. Kicks in when I'm near anything magic and dangerous, makes me feel like I got heavy duty Listerine in my blood. And I can see things, too: magical stuff that anyone without magic can't. My friend from home, Hattie? She calls it 'Side B'. That President of yours set it off but good. ... Are you, y'know. ... Okay? All things considered."

He'd thought having a random disembodied Rastafarian voice rent-free in his head was weird, but this was something far beyond. Ronstadt had the feeling Hattie would have told him to run away, pies or no pies, but he wasn't afraid. Instead, he was a little relieved that someone else here had something they were dealing with on top of it all, too.