I wondered again how Rafael could ride for so long with a sprained wrist. The vibrations of the bike must have hurt like drek, let alone using his wrist every time he revved the engine or braked. But I’d frequently seen Rafael continue an athletic competition or game regardless of aches, pains, or injuries. I suspected his will to carry on bordered on the abilities of a physical adept—maybe he’d inherited a natural magical talent from Mama Grande. But I’d never mention this to him. Rafael considered himself a "pure" athlete, unsullied by implants, augmentations—or magic.