"Suspiciously new." Sam confirmed, and finished her wine before elaborating. "Like, vending machines are probably older than most people would assume, but they're still a recent-enough invention that it's sure something there's a ritual to target them. Help hotlines a person can call are also relatively recent, at least compared to the classic rock of blighted crops and barren cattle. Or, the benign golden oldies, like witching warts off, and luck rites and wish-making on Stir-Up Sunday. I know kitchen witches; that's a big deal for them. Anyway, you're welcome."

Moving to seat herself just off-center on the bathroom floor, Sam set her newest wine bottle down. She took out her phone, got to its call/keypad screen, and pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket. "The numbers corresponding to the letters I need to spell out the problem I'm looking to have help with, so I can punch it in faster." Actually entering 44678762824464327536848946783232 still took a moment, but once that was done Sam started to spin the bottle. With every spin, she was able to add another number, taking one from the most prominent hotline on the book the bottle's mouth came closest to; when she had spun the bottle ten times she had what she needed, and hit CALL. Though the mishmash of digits should have gotten an error, if anything... that call rang through.

"Here goes."