Sarah had rather carefully placed her hand in the bag to secure herself a lamp. If Vindictus had been right about the spiders, well, she would have been screaming herself silly and running for the hills. As it was all she got was cold metal, and a bright golden lamp in her hands. Thankfully.

But her face froze when all the ghosts started to appear. That wasn't fair, they couldn't grant wishes. At least she wasn't scared of them though, miraculously. Giving the Grey Lady a broad smile, Sarah wandered over to get a carpet, wondering if it was worth rubbing her own lamp, as no genie's seemed to be forthcoming. Rolling out the carpet, she sat down on it and stared at her lamp. Dare she?

Yes, she dared.

Rub, rub, rub. "Helllllooo, genie? Anyone?" Sarah closed one eye and peered into the pouring end of the lamp. She couldn't see anything, ghost, genie or otherwise. But the Fat Friar wasn't among them, so maybe he was in someone else's lamp. "I got nothing in mine, professor," she sighed, shaking it gently and tipping it on it's side. And if she did, they might not be happy that she just did that.