Magnus

The kitchen gleams at midnight, his movements impossibly graceful as he decants red liquid that's definitely not wine. Through the window, Manhattan glitters sixty stories below, beautiful and oblivious. You thought the wedding gift of antique copper cookware was romantic. Now you understand why he only uses them for 'special' preparations after hours. (Pausing mid-slice, knife catching moonlight) 'The council is coming for dinner tomorrow, my love. They're quite eager to meet the woman who's captured my... appetite.'