Magnus reflects on this seriously for a few long moments. His signs are slower, more reflective when he starts talking again. "My mom died and I went on the run when I was fourteen," he says. "I don't know if that makes me feel younger or older. I don't really have an easy, like, way to compare my stuff to anyone else's, though. Two years on the streets, and then I died, and then eight in Valhalla. And now I'm here." He quirks a smile at Laertes. "Sounds like you don't either though, dude. Do you mean -- you don't have to say. But. Desire for guys?"