"My baaad," Adora drawls without a hint of remorse in her voice, a goofy smile stuck to her lips with no apparent intention of budging.

"Alright, I'll just pat myself dry real quick, can you--" she waves her palm above the runestone embedded in her arm brace, and it answers her command with a flash of golden magic, leaving behind a particularly striking mop, which she hands to Catra. "Mop the floor up a bit? I don't know if I have enough magic in me to fix the rest just yet, but the least we could do is leave this place dry."