Psii didn't care about his sticks now. They were given up to public use the minute he offered them for s'mores. He could always make more. Sam's easy way of talking kept his mood from going too dark.

"Now you're jutht making me hungry, inthidiouth thweet-plying family-oriented human."

Psii tried his hand at making his own s'more. He speared his marshmallow a little more forcefully than necessary and waited for it to catch flame.

"Shit, shit, shit--I gueth the nextht one will have to be jutht lightly toathted...." His smile faded. "I hope you know thethe won't latht uth forever. Thoon ath I get thethe in my chute, I'm going hunting. Neither of you are fit to move."