The slur was one Noah was used to. It indicated to him - well, that and her 'I didn't want to electrocute him!!' - that she didn't quite understand his brand of humor. Fine, then. Noah smiled mockingly. "Just doing my part," the boy said solemnly, as if he firmly meant it. But then, just like that, he switched gears again and adopted a tone of annoyance. He frowned at the girl on the sofa, as he moved to fold his arms across his chest. He gestured toward the children behind him with a nod. "Since the kid's not dead, though, I don't know what the fucking fuss is. Just don't flip your shit and we can get the power back on before their parents are home, and you'll get your five dollars or whatever."
Noah, untangling his arms, tapped the screen of his phone, waking it up and brightening the room a bit. He cast the light around the room. He twisted on the spot, trying to find a door that might lead to the basement. Speaking more to himself than the useless girl, he said: "We just need the fuse box."