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No one responds, perhaps out of shock at the Deimon Master's magically relayed message."So I- ahem, I think I'll leave his boots for now, but..."
Carefully, the Supreme Summoner kneels down and undoes the cloak adorning the Deimon Master's unconscious frame. A gust of wind tugs at the cloak, as if to claim the empty garment for itself, but Jimothy's grip holds firm. With a swish and a flick, he rises to his feet, the edge of the cloak fluttering at his heel. The crescent-embossed clasp on his collar flashes unnaturally bright under the cloud-obscured moon as he unconsciously corrects his posture, transforming his slumped and hesitant demeanor to one of tranquil confidence. He looks around at his fellow summoners and questants, and lowers his hood.
"How do I look?"
Finally, Hector squeaks out a compliment:
"You look amazing, Jim. Um... but what does this mean, exactly? Are you the new Deimon Master?"
Cassandra also snaps out of her reverie at hearing Hector's words, namely the question that she herself had been wondering about.
"Well, Jimothy... I guess you really do know how all this magic stuff works, after all. I think this—" She offers the moon-tipped cane to the Supreme Summoner once again. "—belongs to you, now. Don't do anything crazy with it, you hear?"