"CUT THE CRUD!"
Huh? "Ro-roddy?" Orpheus asked.
"Sure as a pig hates bacon, it's me, lad," a red-haired Scotsman in a blue blazer and kilt answered.
"What are you doing here? How did you get here?"
"How do ye think I got here?!"
"Right, the internet. Of course."
"As fur why I'm here? I'm here to snap ye out of it, lad. Ye've got a job tae do and ye cannae do it by poutin around like a fat, bald goat."
"But-"
"I said before: CUT THE CRUD! Now sit up straight and we're gonna practice yuir telekinesis, lad."
Roddy MacStew pulled a brick out of somewhere, and they set to practicing. Orpheus was in a good mind-set for the telekinesis, because anyone who learned the art from Roddy, invariably learned to do it best in extreme emotional states. Clearness of mind generally resulted in painful consequences. They practiced for an hour, then Roddy had to go.
"Now, ye go do something useful! I have tae see to another lad," Roddy said, and then he sighed, and left in a flash of internet impulses.
Right! Something useful. But what?