"What else, aside from slaughter with sharp steel, are you really good for?"
There’s a long, quiet pause, broken only by the roar and suck of the sea. Ringil feels the sound stuffing itself into his ears, emptying him out. They stand, goddess and man, a foot and a half apart, like two statues carved from the granite underfoot.
"I suppose a blow job’s out of the question", he says at last.