"I suspect she was asking about the being hundreds of years old business."

"--Oh! Witches do that. Do you not?"

"Not routinely. We live longer than mundies on the high end but most research into making us die less focuses on. Teenagers. Considering."

"That...makes sense. Every race of witch except neutrals--humans--has their own innate way of not dying of old age, like, I'm an oread, I'm nineteen, if I stayed out of the ground completely for ten years I would age to twenty-four and then when I went to sleep buried I'd regress to twenty. And even for neutrals, there are magics that can prevent or reverse aging; they're expensive, but not so expensive that dying of old age is common."

"Wow. Do they only work on witches?"

"They do not." 

"That's very cool."

"I'm a fan! Ways to prevent or reverse death are sort of a special interest."

"You can reverse it too? Man, I'm starting to be concerned that in fact we cannot do anything cool!"

"It takes rank five magic, generally, and most people can't manage to get over rank three. Rank five alchemists make bank with their Arch-curatives."

"Rank is what it sounds like?"

"I think it sounds like what it is!"

"Wizards have nothing so tidy, unfortunately."

"I wouldn't have predicted it, before I learned magic was real." 

"You didn't know?"

"Nope. I was a 'natural' awakening."

"Wizards don't - awaken - just improve in mana generation over time."

"Witches awaken. It can be done manually, by another witch who knows how, or it can happen by itself, usually in response to trauma and adrenaline."

"Estimated time on food?"

"We're almost there." 

The dorm building has an elevator inside; she doesn't suggest using the stairs instead. They get out on the second floor, and after unlocking the door the first thing Eliza does is stride into the kitchen and fling open the snack cupboard. 

The suite has either five or six rooms depending on how you want to count them: four small bedrooms off the main common area, which contains a partially sectioned-off kitchenette. 

They all know what an elevator is, though none of them have seen one in the last four years. Flinging the cabinet open gets them all flinching but they chill out a moment later. And descend on the snacks.

The snacks have been selected with the gleeful abandon of college students able to brew curative potions if they ever encounter any kind of nutritional problem. Also, not all of them are recognizable brands. One jar of gummy worms warns that they invert your color perception. Eliza opens the fridge to pull out sandwich fixings, because in her experience when you're hungry sometimes snack foods just aren't enough and you want something more substantial.  

FOOD. REAL FOOD.

The door, not closed all the way, swings the rest of the way open as a man in a wheelchair knocks it aside. He pauses for a moment in bemusement at the sheer gustatory enthusiasm the three arrivals are displaying for perfectly ordinary sandwiches, before wheeling over. 

Eliza leans down to peck him on the cheek. "Hello, love. Sweetheart, these are Bella, Aadhya, and Caio; Bella, Aadhya, and Caio, this is my boyfriend, Johann Morgan." She pronounces his first name the German way, with a y sound.