Frank Post-BoM Speed

	Triptolemus tapped his chin. “Well, thank you for the snake, but I’m not sure I like your tone, demigod. Perhaps I’ll turn you into—”
	Frank was faster. He lunged at Trip and slammed him into the wall, his fingers locked around the god’s throat.
	“Think about your next words,” Frank warned, deadly calm. “Or instead of beating my sword into a plowshare, I will beat it into your head.”