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Summary
It took a lot for Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch to lose his cool. Insults bounced off him, Punching just stung. Family was a dying concept to him, friends were strictly professional. He’s never had a pet and politics don’t bother him much anymore. Baz kept everyone he knew at arm's length. Everyone except a single tall, lanky, freckled young man, just about his age with reflective copper hair and crows feet around his eyes when he smiled. Baz wished he smiled more. He liked his smile more than anything else about the bloke. His smile was the sun to young Pitch. The warmth of that smile pulled him from under the covers every morning, being the late riser Baz naturally was. The smile had two warm calloused hands and two lanky arms attached as well, bringing more light into Basil’s existence. That smile also had a name; Simon Snow, the strongest mage he’s ever known, that the World of Mages has come to know.