That earns a wry glance over Zerxus's shoulder that says he's exactly as reassured as that statement deserves. (And, perhaps, a little bit delighted. Shut up.)

Then he takes his sweet time leading them back, hoping that tempers will have cooled enough to let sense prevail. The man's known him for two days, that can't be worth punching a god over.

It doesn't help that the god in question is lounging again, flipping through some sort of leather-bound tome, casual as you please.

"Welcome back." He doesn't look up.