Magnolia, sitting at the dining table of Thyme's apartment, staring down at a sheet of paper and some dice: So...I add this number here to that of the die, correct?
Thyme, sitting next to her, patiently pointing out a bit in the paper: No no, you're using your dagger, yeah? You would use this number instead.
Magnolia, rubbing her eyes: By the Gods why do the games of your time have so much damned mathematics.
Soot, sitting across from Magnolia, yawning, their mouth moving faster than their brain, genuinely meaning no harm: You can do math, right?
Mallory, piping up: Soot!
Soot, realizing what they said: O-Oh! No no I-I didn't mean that I'm-
Magnolia, deadpan: Do you think that simply because people of my home timeline still shit in holes they dug in the ground, or that we hang heretical sinners from the town squares' trees that we're all fools who can't do math?
Soot, holding onto their head: N-No, I'm really sorry I-
Magnolia: I can tell you the exact angle and positioning you would need to fire an arrow shafted in pine from a longbow three hundred yards to hit a target on horseback in center mass, I can even tell you how long until the arrow finds its mark. Can you do that?
Soot, scratching their head a bit: ...to be honest sometimes I struggle with adding a plus four to my dice rolls so no.
Thyme, looking absolutely enamored at Magnolia: Wow...I love you.
Magnolia, her face slowly burning up, still looking at Soot, now with wide eyes: ...
Thyme, their own face beginning to burn bright red, jerking upright in their chair and stammering: I-I-I MEAN LIKE I L-LOVE THAT YOU'RE SO SMART AND CAN DO STUFF LIKE THAT AND-
Mallory, leaning over to Soot as Thyme still fumbles and shouts idiocy, whispering: Wow, you actually got Thyme to admit their feelings. I'm impressed.
Soot, scratching their cheek with a small, awkward laugh: Aha, yeah, totally my intention. Secret genius over here. That's for sure.
Cait, sitting behind a folding screen at the head of the table, their cheek resting against a hand with an irritated expression on their hand, tapping their fingers impatiently with the other hand: ...are we gonna get back to the game or are you two lovebirds still having a gross moment?