[Honestly, it's been so long since Taako's been able to let loose that it might actually be lowering something. Or at least it's making him less willing to get off this increasingly comfortable blanket and pillow and leave this conversation, so he guesses he has to keep having it.

He sits up just a bit, blowing some of the smoke into his hand and shaping it with Prestidigitation, idly not thinking about what he's making. It shifts, between a sphere, into a duck, into a heart-- which he then closes his hand over, the smoke escaping through his fingers.]

You have absolutely no idea, buddy.

[He's silent, a few more moments. He could just not do this. He could just-- be decent to himself and ignore this and get blasted and stumble home to consume all the food located there. But he doesn't. He rolls over on his side, shuffles around for the tupperware he brought, and pops one open to fish out a brownie, not looking at her as he speaks.]

Y'know, that whole fight arena thing isn't nearly the worst thing I've dreamt up. Did not register a major event on the Taako scale of brain garbage. If you're beating yourself up about it.