"A magician opens a door from here to the Other Place-- the home of spirits like us, since I doubt anyone's told you much about that either--, they uses a spirit's name, and we have no choice but to come here. It isn't like taking a bus. You just" --jazzhands-- "manifest in the new plane. More or less. Ish. Look, the method is complicated but the means are simple. The trip between places isn't really remarkable. It's existing in this one that's the headache. Ah!"

He straightens and flicks the chalk away. It pings off the wall and disappears behind some piece of furniture. "Done."

And not a moment too soon, if the trajectory of this conversation is any indication. "How's your Aramaic? As terrible as your draftsmanship?"