Chapter Text
Avi, the security guard at the Bureau of Balance hangar, is currently on his way to the weight room, and you’re him. You’re Avi, and you’re going to go lift some weights.
Coming down the hall, you see your pal Magnus Burnsides. He’s one of the people tasked with retrieving the Grand Relics. Of course, you already know that, because you’re you, which is Avi. You’re Avi still.
You give Magnus a casual salute and say, “Hey! Hellhound!”
He nods. “Hi, Avi.”
You go in for a windmill high-five, like in Fantasy Top Gun, but he misses you on the rebound. You can’t really identify the expression on his face, but if you had to pin it down, you’d say he looks incredibly, incredibly tired.
“Uh, Magnus, are you… are you good?”
He scratches his beard. “It’s—I’m just going through a lot of stuff right now,” he says. “—That I can’t really talk about.” His voice is strained, like he’s fighting off a cold.
“No, OK, that’s—that’s real. That’s fine.” You pause. Magnus isn’t even looking at you. He’s got his head down, and you can see that patchy almost-bald-spot at the top. “Hey, if there’s anything I can do to, um, to help…”
“No, no. Don’t worry about me,” he says, straightening up. He puts his hand on your shoulder and smiles weakly. “Just look after yourself, OK?”
Now he’s looking at you, and his eyes are bloodshot. He’s still smiling, but he’s also sort of twitching. His eyebrows are doing a new thing.
“O—OK.”
Magnus squeezes your shoulder a little before letting go. He walks past you down the hall. After a few steps, he stops. “Hey, Avi?”
You turn around, and you see Magnus, with that tired, gap-toothed smile, looking at you over his shoulder, and he says: “You’re great.”
Magnus walks away.