Grif can think of a couple of smart retorts along that line, but this is already uncomfortable without him making it worse.

He gets through the twenty by spending it thinking about how much he'd like to go back in time and punch himself in the face.

"There! Twenty! Jesus!" he gasps, then flops to the mat like he has no bones. He hates how hard that was and how much it took out of him and he'd like to just go die right about now.