Coen POV

"Agrhh!" I wine as Jack pours the tomato sauce on my head as Slade's dare. I can hear all three of them laughing.

"Okay... Okay! That's... That's enough!" Slade manages through his laughter. I rush to the sink and wash my hair. After about 5 minutes, I sit back down at the table.

"My turn. Slade, truth or dare?"

"Truth. I'm not letting you lay a finger on me." He says, grinning.

"Truth, eh? Do we scare you?" The laughter in the room ceases. Slade looks up into my eyes, almost challenging me.

"Before I answer, what would've been the dare?"

"I dunno. I hadn't thought of anything." I say shrugging. Slade averts his gaze and looks at his shoes.

"You want to know, don't you?" He says, avoiding looking at anyone.

"Yes, I do." He looks back up and sighs.

"Yeah, you do. A lot actually. I can't recall ever seeing a giant in my life, and in the span of a day, I'm living on another planet with said giants." I look at him sadly. He holds up his hand. "No apologies! I chose to come, it's my own choice. You have nothing to apologise for. Jack, who are you going to 'truth or dare'?"

"You actually, truth or dare, Slade?" Jack smirks.

"Me again?" Slade gives him a depressed look. "Even after I let you pour tomato sauce on Coen? Sheez. Uh, truth."

"Okay Slade, what's your worst fear?" Slade goes quiet, obviously thinking.

"I can beat you at your own game." He says, barely holding back a grin. "I have phonophobia." We all stare blankly at Slade. "Oh yeah, and it's a real phobia. Aria, your go."

"Jack, Truth or Dare?" Aria asks.

"Dare!" Jack replies.

"I dare you to pour a ton of ice down your shirt." Jack goes rigid. Stiffly, he stands up and walks to the freezer. Reaching in and taking out an ice-tray, he glares at his sister. With one hand, he pulls his collar forward. With his other, he tips the ice down his shirt.

Slade POV

I wish Aria hadn't of done that. I leap back and clamp my hands over my ears. "Bloody hell!! Cazzo! Cazzo! Jesus bloody christ!" I yell. Dispite Jack's screeches, Coen turns to face me.

"What does that mean?" He asks eyes in confusion but mouth in laughter.

"It means I'm cursing you in Italian."

"What's wrong?" He asks, his eyes turning serious. He places his hand behind me like a wall. "Slade?" I frown at him, but I simply wave off his question.