"You are very welcome, Mr .Silverstar." Geary acknowledged as he trotted down the wooden hallway, focusing on a dusty fan. his horn glowed a pale dark cyan, shining with magical energy. the fan, surrounded with the shimmering glow, unscrewed itself from the ceiling. a flurry of tools came in and out, bobbing and weaving left and right. with a sharp *POP*, the fan was put back in place. Within a little bit, every fan was back in operation, blowing a breezy cool shower of air on the occupants of the bistro. "Say, Miss.LaMare, what are some of the titles of your books? i haven't read a good western in a while.' Geary quipped, returning to the small group.