"Well that was fun," Syryn grinned as he set down two cups.
"Not you too, Syryn."
"Why not? I too might have become a victim of Art's fuck and dump scheme."
The anti mage frowned at Syryn's words. "I wasn't planning to fuck and dump you."
"Aww, was Art serious about a demonic old man like me?" Syryn's eyes narrowed to slits as he smiled.
"How old are you?" Artemus asked after a pause.
"Older than our combined ages at the very least. I'm a crusty old man. I probably smell like mildew and-"
"But you still looked young in the puzzle box. So you aren't a crusty old man and don't smell like mildew."
"Mmm"
"Does Rowan know?"
Now Artemus was asking dangerous questions.
"He does."
"Everything?"
"Yes."
Syryn has his own set of codes. He's also on a progressive discovery of his own self ignorance.