"I seem to like boneheads as well? Then you must be in a class above the rest, I don't think I could handle the purity of your boneheadedness, it would be like looking into the bloody sun!" Dina shouted, holding her towel to her chest. Folding her long legs underneath her, it was strange to see such a composed witch sit so childishly.
Roger was cupping his chin in his hands and had long given up the role of peacemaker. He didn't know why he even tried to temper the two when they were together-- it would only delay all the anger that had reserved for each other.
Or sexual tension, seeing as when they were both drunk they would tell him each separately how the other one was pretty good looking and so cool, over and over and over and over again. Until he had to encourage them to take one last shot, against his better judgment, so they would pass out and he wouldn't have to listen to it anymore.
"Whomping Willow, yes, in the sense that I would rather beat you down than have you touch me!"
Over on the side, Roger felt that a drifting accident was less painful than this bickering. The degree of childishness at times like this made Roger contemplate how funny it was that people assumed that he was the most immature of the three.