She gets a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. "No."

"Why?"

"I, it'll be too scary, and it'll make me twitchy about you later—"

He blinks.

"I, I think I'm not cut out for this. Adventuring."

He blinks again.

She closes her eyes. "Later."

"...don't resist," he says with his voice.

"—what?"

And he electrocutes her until her heart stops.

"That hurt you dick," the tank says, glaring daggers at the mage.

"You've been through worse," the mage says, shrugging.

"You went a lot harsher than you needed to on purpose."

"Did not. Did you see the size of that thing? I guarantee you I needed every ounce of force there."

"Why are you guys bickering we won." The archer points at the body of the Destroyer. "It's dead! Odin's sagging ballsack—"

"Don't take His name in vain," the healer drawls, not taking his eyes off the rogue's leg, which he's slowly regrowing from a stump.

"You're a hypocrite," the rogue says between gritted teeth.

"I'm a man of the cloth, I'm allowed to be disrespectful."

"That's," wince, "the opposite of true."

"The word we have for that is 'false'."

"Guys, pay attention! It's dead!!!"

"That makes it sound like you weren't sure we could do it," the mage says with a smirk. "Where's the bravado from earlier?"

"I, I mean, obviously I believed in us, but still—"

"I'm just teasing, I know what you meant."

"Hey, do you think they'll throw us a feast? I haven't had good food in forever, oh do you think they'll take requests, I want thara frog meat if so—"