"And here I thought you missed my wonderful cooking," Griffin joked, intentionally trying to ease the awkward tension lingering in the air.
He turned toward Alaric, who sat across from him on the couch, his fingers drumming nervously on the armrest. "Alright, spit it out."
Alaric hesitated, then swallowed hard. "There's… something I didn't tell you about that incident with Violet last time."
"Dude," Griffin deadpanned, "spit it out already."
The pressure finally got to Alaric, and he blurted out, "Violet is immune to my lightning."
For a moment, Griffin froze, staring at Alaric with an expression of utter disbelief. Alaric, in turn, waited with bated breath for the inevitable explosion of questions.
"No fucking way!" Griffin shouted, springing to his feet as if jolted by a current himself. "Are you serious?"