John does have to sympathize: he's met Bausphomette's sense of humor. While Waver lies there bemoaning his situation, little tail flicks and all, John mops water and bits of leaf off his chin with his sleeve. Neither of them looks particularly elegant.

"Knowing this place? It'll stick around until you jump through the right hoops. Bonding exercises," and here he gestures to the table and its cheerful getting-to-know-you questions, "and playing nice."

You know: not throwing water in a guy's face. Or smiting anyone for it, if anyone's keeping count.