[Anders gives the glove a stage-shudder as Liem tucks it away again; such a gross thing, but as long as he doesn't have to touch it, the disgust is mostly for the theatrics of it. Without thinking he raises a hand after, gesturing with a flick of his fingers to... no result, but it's definitely a gesture that should be doing something. If there's the barest hint there of something, the tiniest brush of magic he can't quite push out right now, well.

It was supposed to be a handheld fireball. He sighs at his hand, put-upon. He can still feel the magic, or else he might have a very different reaction to being, um, stopped-up like this, but as it stands: funny hand gestures.

Helpfully, he explains:] I'd give it a whirl, but I'm apparently completely spent.

[And there's a careful pause there that he makes look casual, the ticking clock that starts in the back of his mind immediately whenever he alludes, no matter how obliquely, to being a mage. Inevitably, every new interaction comes to this moment, the one where he judges a person's reaction to mages and decides whether or not to cut his losses early and go.

This time, with funny finger-wiggling!]

Catch me in a couple days and I'll light it up for you, if you like.