[ following Merlin through the house, Max's eyes roam here and there, taking in the medieval accent here and there, the ancient feel, and yet, a hint of magic here and there that feels comfortable and welcoming to him. Though, when he passes Arthur's room and the grand door, only to see merlin's modest hovel of a room, he can't help a short, barked laugh. Bro. ]
Little bit unbalanced, you think?
[ not that he doesn't get their dynamic and the necessity for it, it'll likely just always seem hilarious to him. Either for how out of proportion it is, or for how freaking spoiled Arthur is. Bless the man, but he lives in absurd luxury.
Regardless, all of that is completely forgotten the moment Merlin pulls the old book free, holding it out to him. It's like being handed the holy grail, and max takes it with the kind of care you'd handle an infant with, eyes wide and completely enthralled with it. ]
You are shitting me, man. [ cracking the book open, he pages through, pouring over the old language as he tries to put it all together. He runs a hand carefully over a page, like the paper and ink itself is some kind of sacred, but he can feel the magic coming off it. It doesn't look nearly so old as it would in his world, but it's a relic nonetheless. Not any tome written by Merlin, but the one that taught him. ] Any one of my professors would have killed to just be able to glance at this.
[ and max, being in the business of chasing relics in his world, and having been so enchanted by magical history to begin with, is like a kid in a candy shop, grinning so wide his face might split. ]
no subject
Little bit unbalanced, you think?
[ not that he doesn't get their dynamic and the necessity for it, it'll likely just always seem hilarious to him. Either for how out of proportion it is, or for how freaking spoiled Arthur is. Bless the man, but he lives in absurd luxury.
Regardless, all of that is completely forgotten the moment Merlin pulls the old book free, holding it out to him. It's like being handed the holy grail, and max takes it with the kind of care you'd handle an infant with, eyes wide and completely enthralled with it. ]
You are shitting me, man. [ cracking the book open, he pages through, pouring over the old language as he tries to put it all together. He runs a hand carefully over a page, like the paper and ink itself is some kind of sacred, but he can feel the magic coming off it. It doesn't look nearly so old as it would in his world, but it's a relic nonetheless. Not any tome written by Merlin, but the one that taught him. ] Any one of my professors would have killed to just be able to glance at this.
[ and max, being in the business of chasing relics in his world, and having been so enchanted by magical history to begin with, is like a kid in a candy shop, grinning so wide his face might split. ]