Jayce follows the direction of said head tilt; a lopsided smile tugs at his lips. With a shrug, he says wistfully, "Wish I did. Viktor and I were basically flying by the seat of our pants for years. Our, um..." His eyes lower for a moment; he sets the tool down. "Our professor was familiar with magic, but afraid of it. The whole city was, of course. He'd founded Piltover to get away from mages, and it's..." He exhales the hint of a laugh, but there's no humor to be found. "It sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

This fear of those born with a connection to the arcane.

"When power is taken by the wrong hands." His own seek the next tool to clean and polish. "He had a point. Someone stole one of the gemstones. The, uh, the stabilized power source. Someone who hated us, and... well." He grimaces. "Can't do much but hope they figure it out. Not," he adds loudly and hastily, "the people who hate us, but the, uh, the me and everyone else still... there..."