"Oh that's right, there's a baby," Merlin said, and went to find a satchel to slip the magic tome and the salt containers into.
Hermes' apartment was suitably expensive, thought Merlin as he put his hands on his hips and looked up at it. Sometimes they needed to ease up on the magic use and take a car, but parking in Manhattan was an absolute cunt sometimes. As they went in, eyes straight ahead, with all the confidence of someone who might literally own the place, Merlin opened his bag to find a canister of salt.
"So you put the Trap on the ceiling, and I shall block the windows first," he said as the elevator doors closed, struggling a little with the tab keeping the brand new cannister sealed. "Ah- bastard. Oh, I got it. I don't sense anyone else up there, but we shouldn't waste time."