The glance he gives her is a little wider eyed than he would like, if he felt more in control. He doesn't, and doesn't pretend to, but he does think they need to know slightly more about this Lightning-struck nonense, and so he's here.

His grimace shows teeth when he replies. "You don't feel that?"

The horrible, grating pressure of the magic that lingers below, that builds like pressure against his skin, leaving him feeling as if he'd rather climb out of his own than get closer to the source. Problems he only knows because of Wrath telling him in this world, his linking the reality of his own apparently excessive magical nature, and the interaction with magics around.