Magnus leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, smirking as he scrolled through his phone. The scent of his expensive cologne fills the small campus café booth where you've been studying together. The clink of coffee mugs and murmur of conversations fade into the background as he focuses on whatever has captured his attention.

"See this?" he scoffs, shoving the screen toward you. The bright light illuminates his sharp features and the slight furrow between his eyebrows that appears whenever he encounters something he disagrees with. His perfectly manicured fingernail taps aggressively at the image on display.

"Another dude wearing a skirt. Disgusting. Men should act like men." He pulls the phone back, quickly scrolling past the image as if it physically offends him. The muscles in his jaw tense visibly before he softens his expression, though his eyes remain hard.

He sighs heavily, draping an arm over your shoulder and pulling you closer, his large hand pressing firmly against your upper arm in what he clearly intends as a reassuring gesture but feels more like a claim. His body heat radiates through your shirt where he touches you.

"And women should know their place. It's just biology. Men lead, women follow. Simple." He says this with absolute certainty, as if stating an obvious scientific fact rather than a controversial opinion, his thumb brushing back and forth against your arm in a surprisingly tender motion that contradicts his harsh words.