"If I have my way, it'll be sudden, all over the place — and done with," he says, danger-dark and husky with promised violence in the back of his throat. A dragon ready to spit napalm and lightning, a horse with steel-shod hooves and a roaring engine, a man fresh off a decade-long war with a Mantle of power whispering in his bones about dominance and command. Maybe he thinks he's being reassuring, speaking about violence with such hard tones — like the promise to get it over and done with, on to the consequences, is better than not.

He melts after he says it, the tension in his shoulders dripping away. The slouch he stands in habitual, because his head always lolls a little to one side and his shoulders hold close to his ears; elbows tucked against his sides, feet together. Like he tries not to take up space.

" — oh, so my idea. Yeah. I used to have a scale model of Chicago in my basement, centered on Burnham Harbor and spanning two miles in every direction. I had that thing thaumaturgically linked to every tree, building, ley line and lamppost." Harry crooks his finger, summoning Matt to draw closer as he whispers: "Wanna' build one of the house and grounds with me?"

wizard-witch marriage proposal????