"What is it now, Brother-Captain?"
The cross-armed Lieutenant tilted his head. He wore a serious expression, as usual-- but the way his eyebrow was raised meant he might've actually been curious.
With that guy, you always had to read his micro-expressions to even guess what he was thinking.
Krysaos pointed his upward palm forward, moving his head back.
"That..." He sucked in air through his teeth, "That ain't ALL, is it? ...Nah... Can't be."
One wolf! The Thunder God's Javelin blew up ONE. Single. wolf!
"Is that... not enough?" The Thunder God pouted. "That wolf was as large as a dozen wolves."
"No, it's not enough!" Krysaos yelled. "We got like... fifty-thousand bad guys still!"
"A gross overestimation," muttered Tycon.
"I. was. *approximating,* Lieutenant."
"And grossly so," Tycon shrugged.
He was still acting like a spoiled, teenage deckhand.