Merlin snorted. "Well he is another one who doesn't understand how prophecies work," he said, turning the page of his newspaper with a sniff despite having not actually read anything. "I don't even remember everything, it was like, a hundred years ago. There was a girl he liked in Chicago, I made a prophecy to a mobster that involved her, she ended up dying and he blamed me. He went out of his way to ruin my business ventures as revenge- or "restitution" as he called it." He used air quotes and pursed his lips with displeasure. "I had to leave the city because of him, the little prick. It's hardly my fault that his girl was involved in the wrong crowds." His newspaper was largely forgotten as he looked across at Luna with a put-out scowl.