[Palamedes thinks, well, they could try to blow up God, but if it goes sorely wrong they'll both be murdered in a heartbeat... That he actively drew the wrong ward he credits solely to, hm, how he's full of rage? It's more of an unconscious influence than an honest mistake, so - he's fine, and he is making good decisions.

Ah, but what is this fascinating desire to shut down his higher functions, huh Viktor. What's that about, bud. Palamedes stops thinking about deicide to raise an eyebrow.]

I'm not keen on exploding, Viktor, [he says, then,] Once it has the correct warding, though: sure. Better me than something else.

[Maybe getting smacked around with his own magic can shut his thoughts off for a while, that would be something. Maybe an afternoon reduced to static would be good for him. With or without the machine.

Hm, but while Viktor tinkers, Palamedes speaks up again after a moment,] Have you thought more about that thing I asked?

["that thing I asked," or, "can your insane drug rip my immortal soul in half or what"]