He leans forward, takes it, looks at it for a moment.

"A cheap coin probably only grants cheap-ass wishes, right? Mm..."

There's a folded sheet of paper in the back pocket of his jeans; it looks like it's been through at least one laundry cycle. He rolls it into a long, thin cylinder and looks at it, holding the coin.

The end of the cylinder catches fire. The coin is no more.

"...Huh," says Alice, pinching out the flame. "I just did magic."