Beachside

Magtok tries to smile back at the duo, hiding his nervous suspicion that things are about to go very horribly wrong for him in the next two minutes.

"Not long enough, some might argue. Not me, of course, I love iceber...I mean hanging out."

His gaze turns back towards the very unsettling torpedo woman on top of him. Or are there three of her? It's hard to tell, with the way his aching head is distorting things right now.

"So could I maybe talk you down to...let's say, just a couple punches to the ribs? I mean, this whole thing was Libby's idea, really. The goddess of death over there, that is. I forget what pantheon. Anyways, I was going to suggest firing the bartender out of the catapult thing, maybe, but her idea sounded better at the time. Now? Maybe not so much."