A man groped his way to the broken remnant of the torch. He re-lit the upper portion.
"I'm thinking of my own kid," he said. "I've seen what he can do all by himself."
Fetzer spoke up.
"I've tried it myself. I can't do it always, but sometimes it happens. I don't know why, but it happens."
One after another the men spoke out, digging into hidden memories for some personal or observed experience.
"My wife was a kick," recalled a scrawny little man with a huge nose. "Not the woman I got me now, but the one I had back in Portland. She never would read no cards, but when she got mad, all hell would bust loose! Once we both got mad the same time, and you never saw so much stuff zinging around! The neighbors called the cops."
They fell silent again, thinking.
Nina slipped her hand into Lucifer's. It was icy cold.
"You'd better sit down," he told her.
She shook her head.