Kormac, Beefcake Templar: Mistress, why must you attack these bookshelves and barrels and funerary urns? Surely there are foes more deserving of your attention?
Liselle, Scantily Clad Wizard: Do you have any idea how expensive it is to keep a templar in magic weapons these days? Someone stashed 42 gold in that last bookshelf. I don’t care how long it takes; we’re looting them all.
Kormac: I have noticed a disturbing trend and must speak of it. These villagers’ corpses…you weren’t looting them, were you?
Liselle: I needed to, uhh, check their pockets for any means of identification. To notify their families, you know.
Kormac: You have given me two magic rings and a necklace. Does this mean we are betrothed? I do not wish to sound ungrateful, but as a templar, I must remain pure and…
Liselle: Shut up, Kormac. We both know it’s just a matter of time.
Kormac: Perhaps we could spend some of this coin on proper armor for you? You spare no expense for me but always shortchange yourself. *clears throat* I mean, a halter top like that won’t stop a blade at all! What was that blacksmith thinking?
Liselle: It’s the weirdest thing. Every time I buy this so-called “chest armor” it turns out like that.
Kormac: I know the ways of wizards are incomprehensible to a simple warrior such as myself, and I’m loath to criticize, as I do owe you my life, after all, but would it be possible to give warning when you’re about to bring down the dungeon walls onto our foes’ heads? I could perhaps absent myself from the immediate area.
Liselle: Not one stone has ever hit your head, Kormac. Quit whining!