these days one must fly--but where to?

[ the feed opens up with a shot of balthazar’s shoves. the man himself makes an unimpressed noise, curses quietly under his breath, and then puts it in his coat pocket. there’s a few minutes of just pocket!cam and indistinct noises--balthazar patting himself down, balthazar's hands pressing against his chest--before balthazar draws it out again to frown skeptically into the lens. ]

Well then. Isn't this an interesting plot twist, hmm?

And this is one of those little devices humans are so fond of, isn’t it? I can’t seriously be expected to make use of it. Even in whatever blasted afterlife I’ve landed in, there must be more efficient means of communication available.

[ his expression is so ridiculously unimpressed, his tone filled with disdain. whatever this is, bal's not down for it. ]

Is there anyone with an I.Q. high enough to offer an explanation hanging about? Or shall I have to resort to something dreadful like googling it?