You mean whoever finds something sharp enough gets the honor of slicing themselves.

[It's only marginally less stupid than them arguing over it. Oh, well. At least she doesn't have to worry about him coming after her, defenseless as she is.

Wanda sets her eyes on one of the bigger, uglier lamps in the room, and steps over to knock it off the dresser with a push of her hand, like a cat deciding to tip a cup of water over the ledge. It goes with a very unsatisfying crack thanks to the brown carpeting cushioning its fall.]

I don't think they're providing us with anything useful.