Lan Wangji, who does not know what a grenade is, struggles to master his expression regardless. "Magnus--" He puts a hand to his face and breathes as slowly as he can before he drops it again. He doesn't know where to begin. Belaboring the point of his own concern would be selfish, but Magnus seems immune to caring about what befell him otherwise. He was moments from death, and Lan Wangji will not soon forget his wan face or the sluggish blood seeping from his constellation of wounds.
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