"I didn't throw it," Cindy replies dryly. No offense meant, honestly. That's just her automatic response to that particular phrase. "Cynthia."

She glances around at this motley crew of god-drafted people and wonders who's the weakest link of them all. It's something she wants to know now rather than guess about it and find out the hard way later. The big red dude, the girl with the polearm, and he who calls himself Boromir look like decent enough battlers. Cindy can't say much more for the others. "Any of you have experience in these types of missions? Speak now so the rest of us will know how to work with you."

Or around you if she gets frustrated enough with this entire shindig.