Trust Me. I'm A Genius.

It'll Be Messy, But After A Day You'll Be Zipping Around As Though You Were A Thousand Years Old Again.

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.

I'm Not Threatening You. I'm Just Informing You Of Police Procedure. If You Continue To Obstruct Me, I Remove The Obstruction, In This Case You, And Proceed To The Next Command.

Hilarious, Dude. You Should, Like, Have Your Own Show.

Orion Nodded, Then Asked, “dwarf Cheese?” “cheese Made By Dwarfs.” “oh,” Said Orion, Relieved. “they Make It. It’s Not Actually . . .” “no. What A Horrible Thought.” “exactly.