untamedantinous

From:

The entire time Lancelot has been talking, Magnus has been leaning back in his seat, arms crossed, brow furrowed. There's a moment where he kind of wishes he had a pen and paper, so he could take notes, but -- his mental notes are good enough. There's another moment where he wishes Qi Yan was there. She's so good at asking thinky questions, especially ones that are sneakily feminist.

"No," he says, grudgingly, after waiting a minute to make sure Lancelot didn't have anything else to say. His objective here was really about the trauma workbooks, and Lancelot just dismissed those out of hand! "But thank you for answering my question." He fidgets for a moment, playing with a hairband that he has around his wrist, thinking, trying to set aside his knee-jerk distaste for Lancelot so he can really parse what he's saying long enough to respond in detail. After all, he's not going to let Lancelot be the bigger man here!

Finally, he sighs. "Galahad told me a little bit about what Camelot was like," he says. "The, like, violence and stuff."