Given that he might try to punch a hole in the walls between realities, perhaps it is indeed ill-advised.

For he frowns now. This time, he respectably reaches for a knife to put jam on his toast. "I'll fashion you a secondary communicator, something discrete. If you're in such trouble again . . ." Although if blood granite stops her magic, it won't let his messages go through. He frowns, trying to think of a way around this.