"Deverill," Presley begins, then pauses, just in case reality does decide to bow down to Felicity's commands. She did somehow win the prom princess title.

But nothing happens, leaving Presley free to be bossy and condescending for no valid reason. "I rather doubt it'll be that easy." He takes a few step further into the room, silently bracing for all hell to break loose again. If he had his wand, he'd be brandishing it right now, but... no such luck. Presley doesn't want to admit how out of sorts he is without his wand, so he keeps going, straight-backed and determined. Two steps. Three. Everything stays frozen. "This... is the dog festival. Last fall. Not exactly dangerous surroundings."

He tsks, like he's disappointed to not be mauled by a horrible monster.