It's not the burn of the Red-hot Stipples or the Essence Lance, but it's nothing to sneeze at either. The flash pain in his hands sizzling at the edges of his essence certainly goes a long way toward interrupting the rhythm of boneless slapping anyway.

Bartimaeus also, for the record, snatches his hands back from the boy's shoulders and lets him go entirely. But let's focus on the important details, shall we? Like how he's fairly certain roasting your fellow member of the Inquisition is very much against the rules. --Of polite company, if not the letter of the law which he can't guarantee only because he hasn't bothered to read any of the Inquisition's more official looking documents.

Anyway, right. Cradling his scorched hands (ol' Floppy not included), Bartimaeus adopts a horrified expression and takes a full step back from what is clearly a lunatic rebel mage at the start of his rampage.

"You not supposed to do that!"

Extortion? You haven't seen anything yet, kid.