All he wants is to be a mortician. All he wants is a fire escape. A comic book or a sigil and a dagger. all he wants is to get away.
There's no time for anything.
In the quiet corners of the space station. On the line with the only two. call in sick. Tell them you've left your ambitions on the dark side of the moon.
Hell, I wish I could grow up and simmer down. I bet you I would.
What reliance can become of incantations? What device holds the blackest rite? Can you turn a profit living out your daydreams? Or is it safer saved for the night?