Yep, that's basically what Mary would have done. 

"So. Terrible superpowers. Do you mean that they're dangerous? Or hard to use? Or, er, poorly distributed?"

He mulls over this and settles on "All of the above? More or less. People started getting them in the seventies, they do it by going through traumatic events, and can range from the very useless to the ridiculously overpowered. Mine is closer to the latter."

"Closer to the latter, eh? What can you do?"

"I can conjure pretty much anything. It doesn't even need to exist." And to prove it, he makes a floating ping-pong ball appear, floating between them. Then another. They start zipping around, and they collide and explode into a lot of rainbow glitter.

"Conjuring. Sounds familiar."

She punctuates that last word by conjuring a multicolored ping-pong ball of her own. She holds it in her hand for a moment, then moves to fling it at Sadde's face. 

It'll disappear before it actually hits him, of course. But with an opening like that ...

He has pretty good reflexes, though—rather than merely flinching, he ducks pretty fast. Then looks around, and at her, and grins.

She grins back. 

"Yeah, conjuring things is pretty powerful. Depends on what, and how. But it's versatile." 

"I wonder if our respective -- er, you said superpowers, let's go with that -- work similarly, if you look at them closely. Mine has lots of drawbacks."

"Like what?"

She starts ticking off fingers.

"I can't dismiss conjured objects. If the objects get more than -- oh, usually it's around ten centimeters -- away from my body, they disappear. The only way to make them not disappear is to keep them close to my skin for a while. 

Oh, and. It's really, really bad to breathe conjured air or eat conjured food. If you leave the field, the stuff goes poof, and if you ate the stuff, so do you."

"...you disappear?!"

"Yep. If you leave a field for too long. It's okay, I won't conjure any food or air. Or, explosives, or nasty chemicals ..."

He probably gets the idea.

"Actually, I'm working on rescuing some people back home. I'm not sure how to get them out of the field. Yet. But I have time -- they're not leaving it, and it's stable and will probably be around for another half century, at minimum."

"...I'm simultaneously fascinated and horrified, wanna trade more complete explanations of our respective kinds of powers?"

"Sure. I haven't heard much about yours yet."

"Okay, storytime! So, sometime in the seventies this cruise ship found a naked golden man floating above the water in the middle of nowhere."

Mary listens.

"So, they approached the golden man, who lowered to see them, and he was expressionless but people said they felt like he was really sad. Uh, sec, lemme see if I have the video here..." He grabs his phone and looks for the video, doesn't find it, so opens the door again to download it and show it to her.

He explains about the man who got cured of cancer after touching Scion, and about superpowers, and trigger events, and Scion getting a name and going around fighting bad guys and rescuing kittens from trees, and Endbringers, and villains, and the Protectorate.

"And my power is making whatever I want exist, for a while."

Mary thinks that trigger events sound awful, that the Endbringers are somehow even worse, and that the powers are extremely poorly distributed.

She'd be almost tempted to give her companion her magic, except he seems to have a better version of it already.

"Right, making stuff. Do you have to concentrate to use your power? My magic takes concentration, to project the space further than default and to conjure things at all. Plus we have to know what we're making."

"Not exactly concentration, but I do have to occupy a certain specific mental state to do it. It was really unintuitive and nonobvious at first, but I got the hang of it now. I can even make, say, copies of people," and after he sets up the expectation he generates a copy of himself standing there, "who are not sentient but behave the way I want them to." The copy grins and waves.

Mary. Do you think he could make me a body? 

Possibly?

If he can transfer my mind to a different brain, he can transfer it back. So I'm safe either way.

It's worth a shot. 

"Hey, I have an experiment we should run. But it requires some background information. Anyway. I have a tulpa, which is a fancy word for having another mind, that you created, living inside your brain. And body. Her name is Heidi, she was really curious about whether she could inhabit a body you created -- I don't know enough about human biology to make one for her myself because I have to know how an object works if I'm going to conjure it. Plus I suppose I don't have room ...

"It might require more knowledge of how your power functions, maybe about the state of mind you need in order to conjure things. But we could try, and it might work."

He blinks. "Another mind? That's—" Incredible? Horrifying? Confusing? "—pretty cool. Except, um, I can't really make minds, or transfer them or what-have-you, the bodies I create," he says, gesturing at his copy, who takes over explaining, "respond to his will. I'm not sentient, I'm merely a very elaborate construct."

Sure, creating a new mind inside your own has some pretty extreme implications, but it's not like that's completely inconceivable with powers from his world.

"How do you know you can't? I mean -- I understand being leery about experimenting with creating minds, but we shouldn't have issues if we test whether you can transfer them."

"Well, 'cause I expect if I could I would've. I've—tested my power pretty extensively over the past ten years, and pretty intensively over the past year, it seems to be limited to making stuff under my control. I mean, other people can use objects I create, as long as they don't look too hard at it, but."