Without really thinking about it, Mordred takes the flask from Dorian and opens it. From the smell of it, it could be one of any number of potions he or the other magical members of The Agency have created during his time there. It doesn't smell dangerous, so he takes a sip, at once feeling his head clear up and any lingering pain dissipate. He blinks at it a few times before offering it back to Dorian with a soft 'thanks'. Whatever that was, it was exactly what he needed right now.

"A psychic who looked like us?" Given his own abilities and the fact that Dorian exists, it's logical that there would be others with their face who can do various things. Mordred frowns thoughtfully, and instinctively worries the hem of his sweater between his fingers. "Did he have any other abilities? I have some amount of magic myself, but it's fairly limited. I'm good with growing and preserving plants, and some amount of minor spells, but I don't have anything so powerful as to hurt others." That he's familiar with, at least. He could do something like cast a fire spell, but it would take serious effort and someone giving him the words for a spell to make it work.

He appreciates the warning, though. Smiling softly, he nods to the immortal. "I appreciate the warning. I don't-- I know I wouldn't have been prepared if I'd run into someone like this psychic you've described first. My fiancé would be very unhappy if I went home-- to him after being hurt in any way."