Naturally, Lan Wangji has been here, and prepared, for approximately an incense time prior to Magnus' arrival. The room they have chosen is merely his own familiar study with its bamboo mats on the floors, the incense burner tucked into the corner, the low desk at which he sits to write or read. Its only addition for the day is a second desk for his students' use. Afternoon sun paints the room, golden already with the shortness of winter days.

With Galahad perfectly on time, the two of them are waiting in companionable silence when Magnus clatters in. Lan Wangji looks up and gives him a glance of mild but easily-perceptible fondness.