"Okay," Magnus says, shrugging. Since Galahad squeezed his hand, he scoots a little so he can tilt his head and rest it on Galahad's shoulder. "So no suit. Those pants are nice, though. Are you more comfortable in tighter or looser things? What's your favorite color? What's Luo Binghe's favorite color?"

He cuts himself off after three questions, visions of Galahad signing slow down swimming in his head.