Magnus has had a great many friends over his lifetime, even with mundanes, miraculous mundanes who accepted what he was and loved him for who he was. They were all candles, lighting up the darkness, every day moving closer to being extinguished. But they burned so brightly in their time that Magnus could not help but be attracted to them. Peter was one of those, playfulness and light and joy spilling out from his boyish smile and sparkling eyes. Magnus felt compelled, like a moth drawn to a flame, to match his grin, his glare, the bump to his shoulder, every friendly gesture answered with one of his own.

"I thought your dwindling Hot Pocket supply indicated otherwise," he replied, smirking and following along as Peter moves for the wine. "But if you love to cook I'd be more than happy to eat for you, whenever you like. No more sandwiches at mine." It was a sacrifice, but he would make it for Peter.

He took a sullen sip of his own wine and half-leaned against the table supporting the drink selection. "I knew there was a limit to your affection. I just didn't think I would hit it so soon," he pouted.

The sad-faced act was short-lived, replaced with a wink and a grin as he clinked his glass against Peter's. "And I am grateful for the injection of Disney musicals you have reintroduced to my life."