"Bill... Billy-Bill...", the man said in a slightly slurred voice, "the more small gods interact with the peoples, the more people they become". The man took another swing of ale.
"Ascension comes in absolute solitude," he continued, and looked up, as if counting something. "This mild debauchery I took part in with you, mortal adventures, sets me back at least a century".

"Well... Let us at least help you clean up your chambers", Bill the Ranger asked, unsealing his lips after an awkward pause.