Carlisle's eyes bury themselves in his mug, his frown widening. "They wield magic that is a perversion of its natural state," he answers, biting his lip. "It- I understand that it may not be that way where you come from, but to be considered a wizard or a w- witch is not, ah."

He loses his train of thought somewhere, and decides to drown his offense in his drink instead, taking a heavy swallow. Rey meant nothing by it, he chides inwardly.

The heat soothes his throat, and his nerves with it as a shudder runs through his entire frame. "Different times," he continues, talking himself down. "I shouldn't be so defensive immediately, should I?"