Randall put his forehead on Quentin's shoulder briefly, closing his eyes. It would have to be magic, wouldn't it? Why, oh why was it always magic? He seemed to be attracting anyone and everyone who did magic to him. But he could still remember how some of the people he knew had reacted to his distaste for magic and it wasn't Quentin's fault. Not unless or until it was.

"Randall," he said, leaning back finally.

He was just going to have to be better about hiding his distaste for magic. Or maybe do a better job of explaining why.