He looks between the Carpenters and Harry.

"Which one of you is more likely to get into some kind of trouble?"

Charity's thumb points instantly in Harry's direction. She maintains a flawless deadpan.

"She's not wrong. Also, Michael's a holy warrior, so they've already got a sword guy. When he has his sword, at least."

"Yes, please forgive my husband for not bringing Amoracchius, Third and Final Blade of the Cross, to a family snowball fight."

Harry mutters something unflattering.

Veron has been at this long enough to also maintain a flawless deadpan. Yes. Definitely.

... Okay, fine, his lip twitches. Just a little.

"Sure, we can space out the sword guys present."

"Alright, let's get out of Charity's hair."

Charity frowns. "Aren't you going to take Molly? Don't you have some kind of lesson plan for the rest of the day?"

Harry shakes his head. "She can practice what she already knows. You can continue the snowball fight, if you want. Right now I'd rather make sure you guys have a magic user around."

Charity nods. "Go, then. God be with you, wizard. And- thank you, Veron. God be with you as well."

Which one? he wonders, but doesn't ask. Later he can ask about the local religion, right now:

"You too. Good luck," he says, which feels appropriately polite, while also acknowledging his own goddess of luck. Not blasphemy, probably.

It seems to go over decently with the locals. No word on Tymora.

Harry leads Veron to what is implicitly a vehicle of some sort. It does not look like a good vehicle; it's clearly been patched with parts cannibalized from others of its kind, lending it a somewhat gruesome aspect. Harry seems confident in it, though.

Veron... has no idea what that is.

"What is this?" he wonders, curiously.

"Oh, I... don't know why I assumed you'd know what a car is. You sit in it and it goes fast, basically. Like a very large metal horse. This is a seatbelt, it keeps you safe if the car crashes. Well, safer."

"To keep the passenger from experiencing the wonders of momentum followed by a very sudden stop. Makes sense. How fast does it go?"

"Open road, I can get about sixty miles per hour on a good day. In the city we're not likely to go above twenty."

He has the reflexes of a minor deity, the ability to briefly stop time to his own perception, and the ability to become ethereal. At faster speeds he'd accept the don't-become-paste belt, but here he'd rather not get tied up.

"Then I should probably go without the seatbelt so I'm not pinned down if something happens. This is safe instead of stupid because I can do this." His form fades to transparency and wisps at the edges like smoke. He waves a hand through the car's frame; it passes through like the car isn't even there. This demonstrated, he fades back to corporeality. "Among other things. At slower speeds the belt would just be getting in my way."

"Okay."

Harry still buckles himself in. "If we're stopped by someone official-looking, can you put it on anyway? It's slightly illegal not to."

"Yeah, sure. I don't want to get you in trouble." He can even put it on faster than an ordinary human can blink, because he cheats.

He eyes the amount of space in the car, decides that his swords will just get in his way if clipped to his belt. It might be viable to awkwardly shove them into a place he can easily grab them, but that risks them flying around if something happens. Instead, he casually shoves all three of them into a bag that should really not fit that many swords, Mary Poppins style. This task completed, he slides into the passenger seat.

"How'd you manage that?" Harry asks, gesturing toward the bag. (Harry turns a key repeatedly until the sound of grinding metal changes to a low, mostly constant growl, which may be presumed normal. They begin to move.)

"Bag of Holding! I didn't make it, I just hoard useful magic things like a highly motivated magpie. Including a useful magic item for hoarding useful magic items."

"Hell of a magic thing. Can I take a look at it when we get where we're going? I don't want to open my Sight while I'm driving, but it sounds cool."

"Yeah, sure. I also have a portable hole, it's in the same genre of convenient carry-thing. It, uh, makes a hole in the ground filled with whatever junk people have already put in it. Even when that doesn't make sense; I can use it on the second floor of things without breaking into the first floor."

"This is sounding less and less like magic that can happen in this universe. Where are you from?"

"I'm getting the impression I'm from another plane of existence. The plane I'm from is called Toril, it's a material plane kind of like this one, where things have regularly arranged physical substance. Some of the rules for how things work here and how things work there sound like they're different, though."

Harry keeps his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road as his expression undergoes a series of changes.

"Historically, the consensus of the White Council of Wizards has been that everything that isn't either Earth or the Nevernever is full of horrible sanity-rending monsters," he says eventually. Then he shrugs. "Scratch that one, I guess. Still, I'm gonna advise against telling that to anybody else. Or using your portable hole thing in public."

... Giggle.

"I can pretend to be local. Maybe not very well, but I'll try. No portable hole in public, got it."

"Mostly just around wizards. Most people aren't really going to care, but the sanity-rending monsters are a thing, and most of the Council is of the opinion that you can't be too safe. I'm just, uh, unusually conscious of the fact that the Council can be wrong. Especially on this point."

They pull up at a tall but run-down brownstone apartment building. Harry exits his car, still somewhat pensive.

Veron nods, seriously. He exits the car and looks thoughtfully at the apartment building. Yep, this place sure is weird. But he's been to a lot of weird places, so he doesn't do too much staring.

"I understand their caution, but uh. Yeah I don't think I particularly rend sanity in any way I've noticed. Thanks for not freaking out and, uh. I dunno, attempting to burn me at the stake, or something."

"You are extremely welcome."

Harry's apartment is in the basement. He doesn't verbally invite Veron in, just opens the door and gestures. It's at best a few degrees warmer in there than it is outside; Harry does not take off his long coat. He moves a rug to uncover a trapdoor in the floorboards and starts down the ladder thus revealed.

In goes Veron! He follows Harry down the ladder. He doesn't mind the cold, he's dealt with worse.