Jim's definitely uttering some Choice swears he's learned form Felix when his cup hits the table after hers again. He doesn't have to touch his face to know it's warm. He's going to start flagging fast. But he's still keeping up, even if he's not quite winning. There's A Chance, is what his brain is telling him.

And having a chance means that Jim's getting far more competitive than he probably should be. That or the booze is talking. Probably both.

"Barely." He grouses, but waits for the question to come. And for once, it's an easy question. One he can answer honestly, even. "I'm not. A mage, I mean. Can't do magic."