He gets it, tone for tone the way he remembers, and a soft chuckle besides.

The lieutenant slowly backs away and around, toward the dean, helping the man to his feet. The wizard needs the assistance. He's barely conscious. The other wizard needs a revivify. And Evandrin looks fresh as a daisy in his borrowed vessel, with the addition of an eerie blue-white shimmer in the air and under his skin.

"This is not finished." It's the dean who speaks, a shaky wheeze, his eyes locked on the creature between him and Zerxus. "We will find out what... that is. And how and why it's here."

The lieutenant clearly wants to dump the dean back on his ass and run, or at least withdraw quickly, but that would be political suicide.

"He," Evandrin says. One raised hand, a flash of light at his fingertips, and the wizard roast on the ground stirs and gasps in shock and pain. Another tiny gesture from Evandrin and the burns start to fade as the newly resurrected wizard passes out.

"Leave." Quiet. Absolute.

He puts a hand to his hip, to hide the fact that his fingers are starting to tremble as his grip on Neal slips.