"Oh, believe me, I've thought of it," Freddie assures her. And he has. In detail at times. But even if Freddie were actually proficient in the use of blades, he's know better than to mess with a wizard or warlock of whatever the bloody hell it is Magnus prefers to call himself. Freddie's gotten quite close enough as it is, really; he doesn't trust Magnus to not relieve him of his bits if he gets too irritated.

"Not certain it'd do much," he says then, shrugging as though to feign indifference. He takes another sip of his coffee. "What's a punctured lung to a magical thing? You've seen what he can do; I'm not stupid."