How could millennia-old superbeings be so boring? - Kage Baker

I looked up at several pockmarks in the nearest wall; if they weren’t bullet holes, the place had damned big hailstones.

And what a clever guy this Harpole is, isn’t he? Awfully good at noticing all kinds of little unusual things about people and keeping them on file in his head. So he’s built a theory around us, has he? He added two and two and came up with five, but nobody else in the house was aware there was anything to count.

Did you know what would happen next? Did you know and sit there like God, silent, remorseless, useless?