[There was a long silence from the young man as all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Having his own childish moment of paranoia thrown back at him almost verboten was just a little too much: he stared, wary, at the now-ominous creature before him.

Evan didn't believe in curses. The idea of a whole category of magic whose only role was to make someone's life miserable -- it jangled off of his sense of justice.

But then, at the same time, he also knew better. In the world his mother inhabits, there was much that was beyond the reach of his knowledge.]

...how are you doing that?

[He has to at least ask. It's obvious Pitch isn't just wildly guessing, here.]