Just hearing McKinnon’s voice made Gus’s scowl deepen, and he was glad it was directed at the floor because he was not in the mood to deal with the other right now. The redhead lifted his eyes with the slowness and skepticism of a man who had absolutely not had enough tea to deal with this level of chipper sarcasm. Out of everyone St. Mungo’s could have sent…

“I’m fine.” Gus quickly shot back as he unhooked his fingers from his shirt, letting them rest against the bench. It only took a moment for him to drum them against the wood, because he was already eager to jump up to leave, although he needed McKinnon, so he had to play nice. “Really. Probably a hit dehydrated because the tomb was torrid and I was stuck inside for a couple days.” Gus waved his hand like it was perfectly ordinary , but then he tugged at his collar sharply and fanned the neckline of his shirt with two fingers.

He leaned back slightly, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck like this was what he had meant to do the entire time. Sweat was starting to bead there, but he ignored it. Gus then tried to offer McKinnon a bright smile like it was proof that everything was fine and dandy. “I just need you to sign off on that parchment so I can get going. We’re headed to the jungle.”

---