The terms might border on the offensive, but the tone was curious, and that was something Stephen counted as a victory in and of itself. "That is a more or less accurate description," he admitted. "I will be with you as a guide, but it is up to you to decide what we see, and what that means.
"Now- this won't hurt." It was accurate, given that it couldn't hurt. But he knew better than anyone how very odd it felt to have someone gather up power and pop the astral self out of the body with a fluid gesture; everything went misty around the edges, the real world suddenly less important, and less present, without the emotional connection or physical sensation to form a connection to it.
"Welcome to the Astral Plane," Stephen said, a blur of blue and spirit as he studied the bounds of the room in the safehouse, the boundaries he'd marked with his wards glowing bright and solid the way they could in the spirit realm. "And now, we shine the light of truth on it," he said, and opened the Eye of Agamotto fully, so that a golden glow washed over James and his surroundings, burning out any lie that tried to stand before it.