Most of the others know better than to get in the way of Even, when the shimmering ice energy begins to whisper between his fingers. But Aeleus isn't like most of the others--his skull is just as thick as any other's, when he's made up his mind to be stubborn, and he doesn't shy away from a course of action once he's committed to it. But he's always had a thick hide, too; the cold hardly fazes him at all, and even ice magic is something he tends to shrug off with relative ease.

So Aeleus quite matter-of-factly reaches out to take Even's lifted hand, ice magic or none. "I believe you could have that taken care of." He corrects, leaning forward to level an expectant look at him. "But I don't believe that you should, Even."