Magic. That word seems equally noteworthy and offensive. Like one he would use sarcastically when he didn't feel like wasting his breath going into detail. The Commission briefcases are magic too, to some people, so it's possible there are others with means to do something similar. Just not like him.

"It's a natural ability. I calculate the exact variables and step through a spacial rift dependent on the mass I happen to be displacing." Simply put, it takes a great deal more than magic to do correctly. It's also extremely rudimentary when compared to the intricacies of moving through time.

He has more questions about 'a school of magic' that might offer some insight. Before he does though, he looks to what drew his attention.

"What do you think?" He turns over his wrist, more so he can look at it than show it off. It's funny how the ink looks so much darker now than it did before a miscalculation wiped years away from his skin. He shrugs. "The Umbrella Academy. Dad's idea. It was supposed to unify us, or maybe just make it easier to identify anyone who thought about leaving. I wouldn't put it past him."

It occurs to him that might have been oversharing, particularly when he'd already denied having 'daddy issues', so he takes the opportunity to set the glass down. He's really starting to feel it now. Still getting used to the concept of pacing himself.