[Closed Post] ..stuttering to a stop..

By the time he feels he's done all he can for Magnus, Lancelot is the kind of wired that feels more wrung out, adrift and spread thin. He is cold -- this should be obvious, outdoors in this weather with no shirt or cloak -- and it feels like it's coming for the very center of him, which is probably accurate. The dagger in his boot is rubbing the wrong way so he pauses to remove it, and then points himself at the mansion and makes himself walk as quickly as he can.

He isn't thinking. For the most part, since he found Magnus in a pool of his own blood this morning, he has not thought of anything except what was right in front of him. He has no idea what time it is, or how long it's been since that moment. (He had forgotten, he supposes, what it can be like on the other side of what one cannot help recognize as a life-and-death situation, when you finally start to understand that the feeling of boundless energy is not real. But he puts that aside. He can't stop yet, so he refuses to feel any of that.)

It's warm as he comes in by the side door, but he doesn't let himself feel that either; he doesn't have much further to go. Before he's consciously aware that that's where he is heading, he is knocking on Susan's door.