Rather than try to put the fire out, Stark takes the opportunity to light a cigarette off the flames, waiting for them to extinguish themselves. This they do in short order - the map is obliterated, but the table beneath is untouched, excepting where the knife has imbedded itself.

Though he's probably planning on making some explanation, Winchester's little tirade stops him. "Witches? You see me flying around on a broom? Talking to a black cat, or chanting over a cauldron? I'm not a fucking witch." From the flat tone of his voice, it's obvious that he really is ticked off this time, instead of just faking. Reaching a hand over, Stark loops his pinkie finger through the hole on the knife's hilt and plucks it from the table, but only to toss it back into his bag. "If I heard right, you're the one who made a deal with the devil. Seems you fit the bill better than I do, Mrs. Proctor."