She clapped when he blew out the candle, then picked up her fork. "Don't tell me what you wished, or it'll disappear," she warned. "Although at thirty, I'm sure you know that. You don't look it, by the way. I'd have guessed twenty-six, maybe." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Maybe."
She raised one eyebrow. "A Wheezes employee is always prepared for any disaster," she said with a solemn nod, then giggled. "Besides. Hello? Witch." She waved a vague hand over herself. "If I don't have it, I make it from something. Sometimes it lasts. Sometimes not. You may well wind up with a napkin on your head in ten minutes' time, but it's good while it lasts."