“The ways of Wayne are mysterious and incomprehensible.”

“Wayne's a little attached to that hat," Waxillium said. "He thinks it's lucky."Wayne: "It is lucky. I ain't never died while wearing that hat." Marasi frowned. "I ... I'm not sure I know how to respond."Wax: "That's a common reaction to Wayne.”

“Wayne: You wanna know why I really came to find you?Waxilliam: Why?Wayne: I thought of you happy in a comfy bed, resting and relaxing, spending the rest of your life sipping tea and reading papers while people bring you food and maids rub your toes and stuff.Waxilliam: And?Wayne: And I just couldn't leave you to a fate like that...I'm too good a friend to let a mate of mine die in such a terrible situation.Waxilliam: Comfortable?Wayne: No. Boring.”

“What wasdat, sir? What wazzat sir? What wassat, sir?”“Wayne, what are you babbling about?” Waxillium asked.“Practicing my pretzel guy,” Wayne said. “He had a great accent...”Waxillium glanced at him. "That hat looks ridiculous.”“Fortunately, I can change hats,” Wayne said in the pretzel-guy accent, “while you, sir, are stuck with that face.”

“It's all right Wayne," Waxillium said softly. "I've made a promise. I told Lord Harms I'd return Steris to him. And I will. That is that.""Then I will remain and help," Marasi said. "That is that.""And I could really use some food," Wayne added. "Fat is fat.”

“That hat looks ridiculous.”“Fortunately, I can change hats,” Wayne said, “while you, sir, are stuck with that face.”

“So,” Marasi said, “you traded a dead man’s scarf for another dead man’s gun. But…the gun itself belonged to someone dead, so by the same logic—”“Don’t try,” Waxillium said. “Logic doesn’t work on Wayne.”“I bought a ward against it off a traveling fortune-teller,” Wayne explained. “It lets me add two ’n’ two and get a pickle.”