Well, that had been… preeeetty pitiful, all things considered.

The night’s many adventures left him extremely drained, and what did Magnesia actually have to show for it? Literally nothing. He was alive. That was something, he supposed.

But the energy he’d drained had dissipated into the ******** ether because he’d let some civilian get a little too snippy with him. He’d had to eat the starseed he snatched, because- because he’d felt like it in the moment, and Magnesia didn’t have a great explanation beyond that (it was that Senshi’s magic that made him do it. Had to be). He hadn’t even taken that pink-haired guy’s life, and Mag had definitely been about to, if he’d caught him.

But it hadn’t happened like that, because the stupid Senshi somehow managed to put a swarm of magical gargoyles in between himself and Magnesia, and even though they weren’t big and tough individually, they were many and stony, and Mag didn’t jive with being pelted with rocks.

The agent he’d enlisted for assistance had been the wrong choice, and even though they’d both made it out fine... The night could’ve gone better. There were surely infinite ways it could’ve gone better, and as far as Mag figured, not very many ways it could’ve gone worse.

Just… sort of sucked.

He’d made his report about Stupid Pink Hair for the Database, and then retreated quickly to his little room in the barracks.

A couple of hours ago he’d been thinking how it was ‘pretty ******** fine!’ to be doing the weird s**t in this war and working for the Negaverse and not really being human, anymore. It was different than what he imagined his life would be, but not worse-! But just a few short hours, and Magnesia was starting to think, ’Man, I coulda had a chill, normal night where I wasn’t assaulted by three different things.’ …He could’ve had a normal night, working his bland, underpaid job and eating cheap cup noodles and falling into his extremely worn mattress in his too-expensive crappy apartment in a terrible part of town.

It wouldn’t have been fulfilling in any conceivable way, but he wouldn’t be physically and emotionally bruised and laying in a bed not-quite-long enough to accommodate the stupidly-long horns on his head or his stupidly-long dog-cat-dragon-lizard… ******** feet that just dangled limply off the edge of the mattress, and- Ugh.

UGH.

Why was it too much to ask for one single thing to go perfectly right, ever? Like, he guessed it didn’t matter if he was human or not because things were doomed to be ******** regardless, and at leats like this it was easier to get away with taking it out on someone.

…That shouldn’t be a perk. Magnesia knew it shouldn’t be a perk. It wasn’t a perk, but it would make his discontentment fade quicker if he could do an activity about it, and since he didn’t have any energy or starseeds to show for the night, it’d be back to the grind tomorrow. Maybe Stupid Pink Hair would show up again, and Magnesia would unload aaaaall of his frustrations about corporate America right into his stupid face.