Alex isn't the type to believe in magic, a fact that could be ascribed to her mostly secular upbringing or maybe that she's spent the last few years of her life in prison witnessing the opposite of the miraculous. This whole bizarre situation forces her to suspend her disbelief long enough to ask to know more, though.

"A mage," she echoes. It's a term that she's familiar with through fiction but hardly comes across in day-to-day life... not that she comes across any of this around the grounds of camp. "Okay. That's... kind of a lot to process." All of this is. She's either losing her mind or standing in front of someone who can do literal magic. "Can I ask what type of magic?"

Gratefully, it comes out more graceful than Alex's actual first thought: Are you a good witch or a bad witch?