"But it's close," Magnus argues, obstinate. He does wonder, a little, why he's fighting Lancelot on this. Like, he doesn't think Galahad wants a father to come through and deliver the same way Magnus does, and goading Lancelot into a place where maybe that might happen isn't, like, Magnus's job. (Unlike all the other things that are Magnus's job: making sure there's food; making sure Shen Yuan's body is okay and growing as quickly as it can without incident; making sure Sunny has someone to talk to; making sure Alex feels loved and supported; making sure Luo Binghe doesn't feel totally alone; making sure Claudius has a Sword Guy in close proximity when Galahad is training, which therefore also means making sure Magnus is keeping up with his own secret training; making sure he also keeps up with his own meditation; making sure he doesn't get overwhelmed or burnt out and therefore being unable to do any of the other jobs. Et cetera.)

Whatever. In some weird way, now that (most of) the heat has been taken out of it, sniping with Lancelot has become one of the things that actually makes Magnus feel more grounded. It's familiar. It's often kind of fun. He crosses his arms again. "Aren't you, like, friends with Sagramore?"