"I suspect," he replies, desert-dry, "that getting him to allow you to stop to make him eat will be more the issue."
"Oh, I'm not leaving it," he says, all chirpy as his ether attacks the scars of bone, eyes going meaningfully from Miquel to the circle to remind him (apparently he's only less dazed than Cesare, which suits him; it looks like Miquel has noticed something about his face, but only his astral face; his eyes haven't moved down to Xel's sweating, trembling physical body) which side of its boundaries he's on. "Go ahead, Mikeru-san. Move around the room, as a ghost moves."