Bruce pauses. He has heard that it's dangerous, but that sounds like more than a few people have died. And one at a time is almost ritualistic. He should be unnerved. He's cautiously curious. "How many have they killed? And how?" Because 'they' wasn't likely them coming own like the first of god to actually smite someone in person. They could send weather and monsters. He's vulnerable now. Mortal. It's a good reminder of that.

That's the problem with scientists. Bruce is no exception. They solve puzzles and research problems and try to fix them, to understand their world, but often those things are twisted by the wrong people. A lot of people now have died because of his mistakes. Because of what his mind has invented.

"That's cool. So wait you make nets? Do you know how to, um, use barbed wire or wire like that for chicken coops? I told Clint I'd take some of his, but I have to make one."