[ A self-satisfied smile, grimly satisfied that Fenris doesn't disappoint. ]

Naturally.

[ His eyes blaze brighter, a cold fire burning with determination as his fingers dig into his biceps. ]

You hate the Fog as much as I do. [ Fenris may have the prior experience with demons and magic gone rogue and all else he's mentioned to build on, but Rafe's died twice now because of this shit which, in his mind? Boosts up his hate. ] So if we're going to get the hell off this peninsula, we're going to have to take her out some way or another. And a campaign like that demands we arm ourselves accordingly. We've got some edge that's come with what we are now, but how long do you think we'd still have them considering she's the one that gave them in the first place? She could probably neutralize both of us with a snap of her fingers—

[ "Neutralize" is its own sterilized term because like hell Rafe wants to imagine the various ways she could take them out, then make them regret it. ]

Unless we find some other advantage that she doesn't have direct control over.