Well that's an interesting coincidence. Maybe a coincidence. Probably a coincidence. Possibly a terrible conspiracy of some kind, but that seems unlikely.

The fogginess of her background only goes up if he goes after her through the Internet. There are two hundred search results for her name; the majority seem to regard the anthologist of a collection of German children's stories, who looks absolutely nothing like her, while a few are for a poet of little note with no picture available. There are two relevant-looking results. The first: the website of the British Museum lists her in an administrative position, featuring a reasonably up-to-date photograph of her bearing a polite rictus. There's also an article from 1986 in the newspaper for a small town in the English countryside, showing a young woman with a mohawk being escorted into a police car, covered in ash. She appears to have set an all-night grocer's on fire, claiming it was staffed by demons. The girl's face is slightly indistinct, but bears a strong resemblance to the current Johanna.

Aww. He's starting to like her.

Not knowing his thoughts, Johanna has no comment! Young bemohawked Johanna also has no comment, but may be assumed to hate him on principle, as she does everyone else.

Despite having been on Earth for a little less than one quarter as long as Johanna, Ari has around seventy search results for his name - registries, a graduation date, and a rather anemic page on something called "Facebook". Forty of these results are arrest records. (He has also burned down an all-night grocery, though he looks much more cheerful and much less bemohawked in his soot-stained mugshot.)

"Hi."

"Um. Hi. I'm, uh, calling about those... magic lessons? I could use some. I think."

"Sure," Chris says agreeably. "Did you want to meet up later today?"

"Sounds good. My place? It's got all my stuff."

"Um. Yeah. Sure. Sounds good?"

Chris helpfully provides her address.

Naturally, Chris has no idea about any of this.

Chris lives in a cute little house with her cute little car parked out front and protective runes hidden in the pattern of the interestingly geometric lace curtains in the windows. The overall magical impression, for those with the discernment to see it, is... fortresslike. But in a very subtle way, mostly not apparent until you're already standing on the doorstep.

Johanna packed her glasses today, which not only help her see, but also pierce illusions and allow her natural magical senses to sense more than "this object is glowy and likely magic!" (She doesn't usually wear them. Walking around Sunnydale seeing magic in detail is a good way to end up with a serious headache.) Chris' witchy credentials having been distinctly established by her fortressy wards, Johanna rings the doorbell.

"So. Introduction to chess magic?" she suggests. "If you were a chess piece, which one would you be?"

"Bishop is a possibility. Common metaphors are the book, the arrow, and the throne. If Liesel were here I'd ask her for a second opinion; she's good at sorting people. But your introductory chess spell can be a pawn promotion, if you want; that'll give you a good sense of what your strongest piece is and which of its metaphors suit you. The basic components of chess magic are chess pieces representing metaphors, and spell participants are associated with whichever pieces resonate with them. My natural aspect is rook-as-tower. Protection magic."