[and in the glow of her cigarette, Magnus sees first that she's gorgeous. no, there needs to be a preface to that; she's breathtakingly gorgeous, in the most literal way possible (suffocation was a nastier kind of death, he thought). and Magnus may be semi-divine himself, blessed with the golden hair of Frey and etc etc, but that doesn't mean he's immune to the glamour of the gods (his own aunt -- let's not talk about that). his grey eyes, tired looking, widen, his pulse (notably, improbably present) picks up; she's the kind of person someone would follow into the dark]
[and he does, stepping down to where she is]
Consider it minded. Um, hi.
[there are probably smoother ways to talk to the goddess of the underworld, but Magnus sadly isn't that kind of demigod]
Re: perfect!
[and he does, stepping down to where she is]
Consider it minded. Um, hi.
[there are probably smoother ways to talk to the goddess of the underworld, but Magnus sadly isn't that kind of demigod]