“Throw up whatever's making you sick, Darren," he said, "then get your behind back in here.”

“Get back in my cot, girl," said Gilsa. "You're sickly."No, I'm not," said Ani.Oh, no? Well, maybe stubbornness is a sickness, did you ever think of that?”

“I didn't bring you here," he said. "You think you're Miss Special Destiny of the year?""No," I shot back, furious. "And I don't damn well want to be - whatever the hell you are. But sometimes there isn't a choice. Right?""Careful. You might accidentally make some sense. Ruin your reputation.""You are infuriating!""Yep," he agreed. "It's been said.”

“Simon looked at Jordan who was looking at Maia again. She had her back to them and was talking to Luke and Jocelyn, laughing, flinging her curly hair back. "Don't even think about it," Simon said, and got up. He pointed at Jordan. "You stay here.""And do what?""Whatever Praetor Lupas do in this situation. Meditate. Contemplate your Jedi powers. Whatever.”

“Taking care of you," he said mildly. "I'm getting you ready for bed right now. And if you start throwing up all of that poison you drank tonight, I'll take you to the bathroom and hold your hair out of your face for you.”

“sick of it whatever it's called sick of the namesI dedicate every pore to what's here”