Ben watched Art rather blankly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. It should have made sense; Ben had been a second before. He knew how these things went. There was nothing surprising in this, was there? Still, he couldn't seem to make his mind grab it.

"A list," he repeated, his voice sounding slow and dull even to his own ears. Trying to shake himself out of it, he pressed on, "Yeah. Yeah, alright. A list. Let's —"

Did Ben have to come up with this list? Did Art have a list he was just going to present to him? Why did this sound like something he'd never encountered before in his life when it must have been common practice, must have even been a thing that he had dealt with before?

He looked up at the clouds above them and tried to remember what spells he even knew that would draw first blood. Maybe it was good they were making a list, because if this was how his head was going to feel tomorrow for the duel, then fuck. Maybe victory over Macmillan wasn't quite as assured as he'd led everyone to believe.