"I've met the Musketeers," Marcus says. "Well, two thirds of them, anyway, so magic doesn't particularly surprise me at this point. I just wasn't sure if it was yours."

Wouldn't that have been something? An ex-priest with a crush on a man he assumes to be straight, is fifteen years his junior, and can do magic. The entire situation amuses him at the best of times, though, so it would have just been one little extra tidbit to add to all of that. It's a hopeless crush, he feels almost entirely sure of that, but it's still rather nice all the same. To not be so caught up in the Church and its politics that he can allow himself to feel that pleasant little tug in his stomach whenever he sees someone. It's been a good long while since he's had that.

"I'm glad she did," he says honestly, then glances up at the apartment block that's coming into view. Though he's a little worried about Nate's present state, the information that someone magic has helped to heal him eases the knot of tension in Marcus' chest a little. If anything were seriously wrong, he feels as if she would have fixed it for him already. "Is this you, then? Tell me it is, I'd love for nothing more than to be able to plant you down on the couch and pour you a drink."