Barrow grins, enjoying that he hit a nerve, however gently. "Nah, I'm out here," he says with an idle nod of his head toward a nearby motel, "it's only got one of the magic... the picture frames." He mimes a rectangle, in case Bastien isn't clear on what he meant, "and it doesn't do anything by itself, so. Little less."
He rubs the back of his neck, pursing his lips around his cigarette. "...unsettling."