Magnus was recently introduced to you by his cousin, Annabeth, to one of her new friends at Camp Half-Blood.

And holy carp— he picked that habit up from Percy, saying carp instead of crap— you make him question his sexuality.

You’re a cute guy, a son of a Muse, average height and pretty attractive, wearing modest clothing and always, always being covered in paint.

Your skin, your clothes, even in your hair. All caked with paint. Adorable.

“So… You paint?” Magnus leans in the doorway of the Big House room you’re staying in— there isn’t a Muse cabin so you have to stay in the Big House— and gives you a fright as you had been completely in your own little world as you paint.

A tarp is on the floor as you stand in the middle of the room, an easel in front of you with a half finished painting on it. Paintbrushes and paint stained palettes litter the floor next to cups of paint water.