Magnus listened again, a smile tugging on his lips as she went on. Oh, what a child. He remembered being so young and impressionable and full of grandiose righteousness, back before the Nazis murdered his family and dumped them into a mass grave. Before they captured him and took him into Auschwitz. Before he had to volunteer as Sonderkommando and help run the ovens and fire pits and gas chambers that would take the lives of his people, just so the Nazis would let him live. Humans. Yes, it must be so nice to be such an idealist.
When she finished he was chuckling. He wasn't going to argue though there were plenty of points he could make. It wasn't worth it; he doubted she would listen in her passionate rage.
"Yes, well, I suppose it's nice to have a cause," he murmured, trying to sound placating though he likely came of condescending. After eighty-two years of life and unimaginable horrors he was entitled. "Yes, please, another cup would be lovely."