“What is,” said the imp, suddenly suspicious.

The girl's forehead creased faintly, but her eyebrows furrowed with a subtle determination.

"No, not what," she corrected with a brisk shake of her head. "Witch."

“Fine,” the imp said, "’which,' then?"

"Yes, exactly," breathed the blonde with a cautiously relieved smile.

Winn looked faintly like his face was about to melt off of his skull into a puddle on the pavement as he watched the exchange, damnably aware of exactly what was happening (linguistically, not sensibly), but uncertain of how or whether or not to stop it before it reached critical mass.

“So,” said the imp, her eyes beginning to bug a little, “which is it?"

There came a moment of pronounced confusion, wherein Rhiannon, after silently mouthing a reprise of the imp's rebuttal, said nothing. She stared in quiet consternation for a good several moments, before breathing in deeply through her nose, and, with far more gravity than the situation really called for, solemnly agreed, "It is."

The pilot was distracted by the confusion of wordplay before him, eyes snapping back and forth between the opposing sides as neither seemed to realize the others' perspective. An amused grin barely tugged at the edge of his lips as he watched, but seeming to find the situation a bit out of his control, he turned to the silent Winn, giving him a brief tap on the shoulder.

"What was that about crafting a replacement part?" he asked, the other conversation now in a muted corner of his attention.

Any thoughts Phantom had about ditching his new "friends" disappeared when the witch confusion happened. No, these kids were just too amusing to pass up. Staying with them may not have any tangible benefits, but at least they were entertaining and that counted for a lot in his book.

He could have helped explain the situation, but it was better to let it play out and try to mute his own snickering.

Not that he was trying very hard to do that.

“Is this some kind of a trick? Which is the word that I call you?” Visibly worked up now, the imp began to bounce back and forth on her toes.

"Uuah."

Winn jolted slightly and jogged his memory. His train of thought had long been derailed.

"It's just that the missing part is... made from a very interesting material, to enable its very interesting properties, if you will," he explained with kind of an intent squint on his face, his head at a cant, like he was searching for the the right words. "It's nothing you can just pick up at the store, I mean. It's an alchemical substance."

"Hm, this is quickly becoming a more complicated manner." He idly tapped a finger against his chin for a moment. "Or perhaps not. If it's possible to find the proper person for this task, that is."

Winn gave the pilot a half-lidded stare as he was snubbed a second time in in regards to his expertise.

"I said it's a matter of materials," he groused inaudibly, shoulders pulled irritably tight and high. He diverted his attention back to Rhiannon and the ongoing Debacle which is of Whiches and Witches.

Rhiannon shook her head, while the index and middle finger of her left hand delicately supported her temple, while her right gestured emphatically.

"And I am saying, you are precisely correct. Witch is the word you call me. What about this confounds you so?"

“I understand you fine, okay? Nothing confounds me except you for haven’t told me what to call you yet!”

“Hush up, you!” she said, whirling around and vehemently pointing at the white titan behind her, who had not made any visible attempt to communicate, “this is between girls!"