[ amicably, as he pours himself another glass of mana rock encrusted wine, since he's been neglecting it for a while now: ] How do you know I wouldn't have tried if we weren't all altered when we arrived here? Feeding off of the spirit is something I'm capable of, after all.

And on that note ... Fine, so we'll operate on the premise that you may for some reason like the me that you've seen here thus far, all the harsher edges sanded down under the banner of cooperation. Will you say the same, I wonder, when I have to remind everyone that I am specifically a god of destruction?

[ honestly, robin can take it or leave it too. he's not particularly fussed about the game at this point— refraining out of a fear of saying too much seems somewhat ridiculous. ]