He's taken aback by the question, and as much shows from what's visible of his expression beneath the blindfold. "How technical of an explanation do you want for that?" he asks in turn, exchanging the puzzlement for a grin.

"And, yes, so long as I'm not being blocked," as a nod to present company, "but there's practical upper limits on how much I can create in one casting. Since the usual application in war is for a slick or a drench to set on fire, it's powered for--mh." He pauses thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his lips as he tries to remember the exact figure. "Ten gallons? Twelve? All at once. Harder to get more than that, but much easier to get less."

It takes him a moment to realize how much nerd verbiage he just dumped in Simon's lap there, and his grin takes a turn for the abashed. "Sorry. That's more of an answer than you needed, wasn't it."