Argh? Pathetic And Inarticulate. Nice Combination. Your

Is That How You're Going To Take Me? Scare Me Into Voluntarily Coming Aboard, Then Steal My Ice Cube?" "it's Always Cubes With You," Noted Foaly, Somewhat Randomly. "what's Wrong With A Nice Sphere?

I'm On My Feet, Pacing Around The Room, Punching A Fist Into My Palm, Which I Stop Doing When I Realise How Drama Queen It Feels.

I'm The Crazy Girly Captain, Remember?

Sig Sauer. Nine Millimetres. Thirteen In The Magazine. Big Bullets. One Of These Hits You And It Could Blow Your Head Off; Something Even The Magic Can't Fix. Other Than That You Should Be All Right, Presuming You Remembered To Wear The Regulation Above-ground Micro-fibre Jumpsuit Recently Patented By Me. Then Again, Being A Recon Jock, You Probably Didn't.

The Problem Is That I Know The Textbook Answers To Any Question You Care To Ask.