"Think I have you beat. If I made a list, you'd have to count my feathers to find where it ended." Unless she got real clever and claimed to have as many hairs on her head as perks for him, there were few ways to rebutt such a statement. A deliberate form of verbal trappery, deployed in the pursuit of petty conversational victories.  He had to, to keep his mind sharp. His sword needed sharpened as well, he noted with grim dissatisfaction. The old blade wasn't well kept and needed a lot of work done to it. Should he find a couple grits of the right stone and some oil, his next quiet hour alone was spent.
"Threatened? By someone who can hurl the force of Zeus with her mind? Since I'm neither nazi or snake. . .nah." War magic was terrifying. But it was like the stroke of a blade or the fist of a martial artist; by itself, nothing malicious or harmful, it took animus and deliberate use to make it so. And somehow, Arturiel didn't think Eva the one to have a pissy day and whip a lightning bolt at his skull instead of talking things out like a pair of mostly reasonable adults. He worked methodically to break the beast down, carving around the thickest part of the backbone to loosen the meat before he cracked it open with the heavily weighted hilt of his blade. That would be the last thing he needed to separate the haunch, and get proper amount of food on hand.
That Eva helped out in such a messy affair - this was no post-slaughter, neatly drained creature - earned her yet more brownie points in his eyes. "..With snake meat? We certainly have enough. Alright, you're on. Let's see, should we make it a little more interesting? Like a bet. " What could they put on the line? Art would have to think about it, maybe leave it aside for after the competition. Winner would get. . .something, but just what, he didn't know.
No passive partner in the kiss, Art reacted by wrapping a hand around waist and the other her shoulders, squeezing his body against hers, and lingering along her lips 'til his lungs burnt for lack of air. "...So now we've kissed just outside of an OR in a resistance base, and beside a dead Leviathan. And people say romance movies are unrealistic." Art joked. A second kiss could lead to a third and from there. . .he'd have to pull away, reluctantly.  "Let's. . .not go any further beside the big dead thing, huh?"