Master of the trade? Sprite almost smacked herself in the head. Instead, she smacked at Scotty’s hands, knocking them away from the watch. But a watch wasn’t the right term, and Sprite realized that now. Scotty was a true master of the trade. Sprite wasn’t sure what she was, having missed something so obvious.

She grabbed his watch arm, twisting to look at the display. He winced. The time was there, small, at the bottom. There was also a signal gage that appeared strong, latitude and longitude listings, other mysterious readouts, and a countdown that just dipped below two minutes.