[ Amos tilts his head, the movement stiff, sore. He can still feel the whip that had been around his neck. It's not there anymore, hasn't been for some time now, but — the phantom feeling of it, the anxiety it's brought that he's only been somewhat successful in pushing down, out.

This guy might have a point, except. ]

You think? Because when I get dragged to ancient ruins and hear shit about rituals, human sacrifice seems within the realm of possibility.

[ Because this totally happens to him all the time. (It doesn't. But, you know, with the way the past week or so has gone, why the hell not?) ]