((He can use it if he's not trying to escape. Sound alright to you? Doesn't mean Anselm won't freak out about it though... If your chara dodges, Anselm would just yell at him. As for the pain thing the bracelet did, I can change that if you don't approve.))

A twinge in his mind alerted Anselm to the use of magic. He could sense the stuff buzzing trough the air. Anyone could do that much if they trained their mind and paid attention. He knew the other wasn't trying to escape otherwise the bracelet would have stopped his playing cold, even so a growl of anger escaped his throat as he threw away the plate he'd been preparing for his guest. It crashed to the floor with a horrific sound. The pile of carefully laid spaghetti and bread lay upon the floor like in a slimy, ugly, swirl of gooeiness amidst the shattered glass.

Anselm pounded up the stairs to shove the door open with anger plainly in his eyes. "You filthy mutt. Stupid, idiotic, son of a ... a ... " Speechless now, Anse leaped forth to pound his fist into the other man's features. The bracelet communicated his ire more effectively then any fist could as it shot pain straight trough Kuraon's arm. "Never use your magic in my home again. Ever!" Suppressed memories had surfaced of a white clad mage and his parents, blood splattered everywhere and him hiding alone in a closet peering at it all in terrified silence.

Killing others was easy after that. No one had helped him, so what right did they have for his compassion? None at all. Anselm had tried so hard to forget that horrific night, and now this mage had brought it all back. It was his place, his home ... Magic wasn't allowed there.