Matt's answering laugh is softer. More a warming than whip-crack, car backfire, brash city vibrations, but no less genuine for that.

His amusement doesn't dim entirely as Harry edges into his space, but it changes. Harry only seems taller when Matt's seated on the rim of the bathtub. Matt inhales, afloat on the gravitational tide that swells within him whenever bodies shift closer to each other. His chin lifts, spine stretching like there's a golden string pulling at the crown of his head.

"That's what I want too," he says. "I don't see how we get out of here without figuring this place out at least a little bit. So yeah, I'm more of a ... horizontal planner, magically speaking ... but we're definitely on the same page there."

At that last remark, however, that slow smile, Matt's eyes shoot wide like he's a slightly damp dog who's suddenly caught a car.

"Ah ..." A sheepish smile breaks over his face. He laughs again. "I haven't had anybody guess before. Um. Sex magic, yeah. It's not the only way I cast, but it's probably the most powerful."