One of Those Huge Chats Where Lots of Epic Stuff Happens

Amy

That crazy immortal chick was still really awesome. Just putting that out there.

"Oh yeah, it's really convenient," I answered the British dude. Heh...zed...

"It sounds as much. I must, however, confess some interest as to whether or not you are capable of feeling pain. If not, then may I request that you act as a meatshield for those less fortunate amongst us? Only it is in my nature to be pragmatic."
Shyker attempts to look as unthreatening as he can.

Amy

"Oh, yeah, that totally makes sense," I answered. "I can actually feel pain, but I'll still stand in the front. I've got some...other skills. Useful ones."

Magic. Magic made life soooooo much better, and I felt extremely lucky to have been exposed to it. Being friends with a demon sure has its perks.

T.Mor:

"IS PAIN THAT FEELING LIKE WHEN YOU EAT TOO MUCH AND THEN YOUR TORSO EXPLODES?" Riddle asked nonsensically. I didn't even. How was that in any way a response to feeling pain? ...I didn't even.

"Maybe...? I dunno Riddle... most of us... don't...experience that...er... ever." I told her.

"OH. RIGHT. UHM. IN THAT CASE... TWO THIRDS."

...I... No idea.

Shyker opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before looking back to the saner "immortal".
"I hope your skills are what you claim them to be."

Amy

I took off one of my wrist braces and rolled up that sleeve slightly, revealing black tattoo-like markings that started on the back of my hand, wrapped around my wrist, and traveled up my arm to vanish under my shirt cuff. I held the exposed hand up to the light; the markings gained a dark glow, like the kind that a blacklight gives off.

"Magic," I said, grinning slightly. "That's what I've got."

Riddle:

She said magic.

IS THAT LIKE HAMMER SPACE BUT WHERE YOU CAN WRITE ON YOUR ARMS IN GLOWSTICK JUICE AND MAKE CRAP HAPPEN THROUGH... LIKE... OSMOSIS OR SOMETHING?

THAT WOULD BE AWESOME LIKE NINJAS ON A RHINOCEROS IN JUNE!

"I HAVE A TACO FLAME THROWER AND A CHOPSTICK ALSO IF YOU NEED THINGS TO EXPLODE CRAP WITH!" I told the dude with a smile like at the fast food joint somewhere somewhere that wasn't Auda.

"Riddle... I'm... sure that... You don't need to erm.. get... ANY of that stuff out... ever..." T.Mor told me all like how he does when he wants me to stop talking about stuff. PFFT LIKE WORDS WOULD STOP THE TACO FLAMETHROWER. NONSENSE.

"Good," says Shyker. "I... what? Taco? Is that a new petroleum compound?"

Riddle:

WHAT... WHAT IS THAT.... Seriously..What is petroleum?

"DUDE... NO. TACO. LIKE... LIKE THE MEXICAN DISH. THESE ARE HARDSHELL. BECAUSE HARDSHELL IS HARCORE." I explained carefully.

"It's... It's... made of tacos..." T.Mor added... which... should be like OBVIOUS, but... mrrh. Guess some people might be slow on the uptake about these things.

"OF COURSE IT'S MADE OF THEM.... WHAT WOULD I MAKE IT OUT OF? SPAM? THAT WOULD BE STUPID." ...Duh.

"I... How? But... doesn't most food burn? You know what: I'm just going to pretend I understand what's going on here. Still though, flamethrowers are good. Just make sure they can't reach you when you fire it."