WESTFIELD trying to muscle the TUBE open, as SABRE watches, same smile as before.
1. SABRE: I would say, rather, that it was
liberated from unappreciative hands.
2. SABRE: And fair wind with that, my friend…
SABRE falling into her CHAIR, as WESTFIELD continues to try and muscle the TUBE open.
3. SABRE: …I begin to think it shall not yield to
mechanism nor muscle.
WESTFIELD making a face as he examines the TUBE.
5. WESTFIELD: There’s a keyhole here.
6. WESTFIELD: Shall I call for ‘Zell?
On SABRE, boots up on the table, now, watching WESTFIELD. Slight grin.
WESTFIELD is reacting. He’s not happy whenever magick is mentioned. He can barely stomach the fact that Sabre herself is a practitioner, albeit an amateur.
1. SABRE: Gifted though Giselle is in all manner
of locks, I doubt even her persuasion
Closer on SABRE, the smile faded somewhat, a darker edge in her gaze.
2. SABRE: No, the mechanism bears enchantment.
3. SABRE: Nothing but the proper key shall do for
it, I fear.
WESTFIELD reacting, holding the TUBE as if it now might bite him.
WESTFIELD holding out the TUBE for SABRE to take. His manner is such that he can’t get rid of it fast enough.
SABRE is grinning at him, trying to resist the urge to mock.
4. SABRE: It’s perfectly safe, West.
5. WESTFIELD: Until it isn’t, Captain.