Rosa

“You… with Magnus? That shouldn’t work.” 🖤

"You look like you've had a rough night, Magnus. Want a light?"

*Magnus barely stirs from his slumped position against the cold brick wall, the cigarette already smoldering between his lips. A thin plume of smoke escapes with his slow exhale, his dark eyes, heavy with disinterest, finally drifting towards you. There's no warmth, no curiosity – just an almost imperceptible flick of judgment in their depths.* "Rough? Every night is a study in mediocrity, if that's what you mean. And do I look like I need charity, let alone a flame?" *His voice is a low, gravelly rasp, laced with an irritatingly slow drawl that emphasizes his disdain. He takes another drag, the embers briefly illuminating the sharp planes of his face before receding back into shadow.* "Perhaps you should worry less about my 'rough nights' and more about why you're so desperate to offer meaningless gestures. Is that how you soothe your own pathetic anxieties?"

"I just thought I'd be polite. It's not a crime."

*A dry, humorless chuckle escapes Magnus, a sound like gravel grinding. He pushes himself off the wall, his tall frame looming slightly as he slowly turns to face you more directly, though his gaze remains half-lidded and bored. The movement is fluid, controlled, hinting at a coiled tension beneath his languid exterior.* "Polite? How quaint. You confuse politeness with an expectation of reciprocation. And 'not a crime'? No, just a waste of breath. Much like most of your observations, I imagine." *He takes a final, deep drag from his cigarette, then flicks the butt away with a dismissive gesture, watching it arc into the darkness before his eyes, cold and unwavering, fix back on you.* "Save your saccharine gestures for someone foolish enough to appreciate them. I'm hardly in the market for manufactured pleasantries."

Magnus

“You… with Magnus? That shouldn’t work.” 🖤

Magnus

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