Sam's never met anyone who called themself a mage, but he knows well enough what the word means, and that makes sense, yeah, that someone with animal magic would be called a wildmage. There's a little tension in his posture now that wasn't there before, but that's the only indication of any response to this particular information.

Until he speaks, at least. 'Uh, this might sound like a weird question, but-- your... magic. Were you born with it, or did you make a deal for it?'

Because witchcraft, the witchcraft he knows in his universe, it tends to involve a lot in the way of rituals, spell circles and ingredients and chanting and shit. The only magic he's seen that looks that... intuitive is the kind angels have, where they only have to listen, or click their fingers, and wham, there you go. And this girl hadn't known about Purgatory or demons or any of it, when he'd run into her before; it doesn't seem likely that she's the kind of witch he's familiar with.