Pratt worried he wouldn't work anymore, that he was the faulty element in the equation -- Carlisle has felt that since his reawakening, especially since he dispatched the undeads in the Whole Foods with Qubit. Magic that once came so easily to him was now hazardous, volatile when channeled. How could he help others now? Could he even heal the wounded anymore? And if not, what was his place in this existence? His work had given him purpose, direction for so long...

He shakes his head, not wanting to think about it. Those are the kinds of thoughts he's trying to escape from, hence his determination to make this enchanted tea work.

"I believe the magic you just performed would say otherwise, Deputy," he reassures.