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[credere]

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[credere]

"How long do you do that for?"

[magician_king]

"A long few months of intensive training."

He says, with a shake of his head.

"We won't make you into that kind of magician, unless you're feeling super self-flagellating."

[credere]

He frowns.

"I don't understand. Are there different kinds?"

He understands from previous conservation that Quentin's magic is different to, say, Newt's - but surely one's not significantly easier to learn than the other?

(Then again, he should have gone to Ilvermorny aged eleven.)

[magician_king]

"Sure. There are wizards like Newt, magicians like me, hedgewitches like Chloe."

He says, with a faint smile.

"It's like how you can be a writer of many different kinds of books."

[credere]

"But - writing is always the same, isn't it?"

He's not at all sure about this metaphor.

[magician_king]

"Never. It's so different."

He says, laughing.

"Each author is as unique as each person."

[credere]

"Oh." The laughter makes him shrink in on himself. Why shouldn't he be so ignorant? He's never read a book that wasn't Biblical study.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know."

[magician_king]

"Don't apologize, it's not bad."

He promises, warmly.

"It just means we should read more."

[credere]

Credence makes a strange, choked sound.

"I don't know how I can do magic if I w-won't even read."

[magician_king]

"Well, there is definitely going to be more reading."

He admits, with a wince.

"It's a reading-heavy discipline."

[credere]

He stares at the wood, the nails, and drags his knees to his chin. Makes himself small.

"I don't...why...why do you want this for me?"

[magician_king]

"Imagine you knew the way to make it so that every few years I didn't feel like crawling away from the rest of the world and never coming out again."

He instructs.

"If I didn't see it- but you could see a path that'd make my life normal?"

[credere]

Credence furrows his brow.

"...I'd want that. I'd want for you to be normal," he whispers.

[magician_king]

"Not normal- exactly, because I'm so weird, and I've never cared about that. But if you thought you had a chance to make me happy, and make my life easier."

[credere]

"I'd want you to be happy," Credence says, and even he can tell where Quentin is leading him. "I just...how can you know that - that this is what'll make me happy...?"

[magician_king]

"I might be wrong. I really might be. But I don't believe that I am- maybe the teaching magic, sure, yes, that- but not practicing enough to break up the bottleneck inside you."

[credere]

"Oh."

He wraps his arms around his knees. Quentin wants him to learn. Elizabeth wants that for him too. Tina seemed to.

And he's already damned.

So what does it matter?

"...alright."

[magician_king]

"Okay. This buys you ten decisions you get to make on my behalf to help me for the better, and I don't get to argue."

He says, smiling.

[credere]

Credence visibly startles, his shoulders drawing up.

"I don't want to do that."

He finds it nigh-on impossible to make decisions for himself, never mind anyone else.

[magician_king]

"Then you don't have to use them. But if you say a codeword- 'broken windows' then I'll know."

He promises.

[credere]

"...alright. But I don't think I ever will."

Fair warning.

[magician_king]

"That's fine. It's nice to have someone looking out for me, anyways."

Is how he interprets it.

[credere]

"Oh. That's - I will. I mean, I do. I try to. Look out for you," he says, feeling clumsy with the words even as he says them.

[magician_king]

"I know."

He promises, and looks down at his hands.

"I can tell."

[credere]

"Oh -- "

Because he'd asked Mick to return Quentin's magic. Of course. He must think he's an idiot.

"I'm sorry, I. That's obvious."