[ Ronan crosses his arms over his chest, the bottle of whikey dangling between his fingers along his side. ]

We have magic. Magic fucking tress who stop time and talk latin and change terrain whenever they see fit. They're generally assholes.

[ That's far from behind it, but Ronan will never not be cagey about his powers. He's no Kavinsky, who flaunted it and almost destroyed Cabeswater for it. ]