"Thanks," Magnus says. That's helpful. He's still so gross from all the zombies, and it's definitely going to get all over the handkerchief, but he won't let himself worry about it now. He mops his face and twists slightly away so that he can blow his nose without getting it on Galahad, and then he lays back. "No more fighting," he repeats, trying out the words. "That's, like, a good chunk of every day freed up." He turns his head and looks at Galahad. "What do you want to do instead?"