Middle ground

"Well that was fun," Syryn grinned as he set down two cups.

"Not you too, Syryn."

"Why not? I too might have become a victim of Art's fuck and dump scheme."

The anti mage frowned at Syryn's words. "I wasn't planning to fuck and dump you."

"Aww, was Art serious about a demonic old man like me?" Syryn's eyes narrowed to slits as he smiled.

"How old are you?" Artemus asked after a pause.

"Older than our combined ages at the very least. I'm a crusty old man. I probably smell like mildew and-"

"But you still looked young in the puzzle box. So you aren't a crusty old man and don't smell like mildew."

"Mmm"

"Does Rowan know?"

Now Artemus was asking dangerous questions.

"He does."

"Everything?"

"Yes."