Magnus cackles, too, laughter growing harder -- one might even say it has a hysterical edge to it -- as a little clump of bad falafel teeters on Lancelot and then tumbles down slowly. "Sorry," he gasps, sitting down heavily on the floor. "Sorry--"
And then... well. He's not entirely sure if he's laughing or crying.
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And then... well. He's not entirely sure if he's laughing or crying.