“Cover your glass in France or Germany --even worse, in England - and in the voice of someone who has personally affronted, your host will ask why you're not drinking. 'Oh, I just don't feel like it this morning.''Why not?''I guess I'm not in the mood?''Well, this'll put you in the mood. Here. Drink up.''No, really, I'm OK.''Just taste it.''Actually, I'm sort of...well, I sort of have a problem with it.''Then how about half a glass?”

“Why don't I like you?""Because you think I'm an asshole, and I'm not really, I'm just British and, well, you're not.”

“No, I'm not in a bad mood. Why do you ask? You think I need to be in a bad mood to let you know I think you're an idiot?”

“He held out the hand that wasn't holding up the blankets, palm out. 'OK,' he said. 'OK, think, Collins, think - yeah, OK, this is awkward, and I'm really sorry, because I'm sure you're really - Oh, man. What the hell did I do? Was there drinking? There must have been drinking.”

“Then you know why I'm not in the mood for sunshine and puppies." I paused. "That expression makes no sense. Why the hell would I ever be in the mood for puppies?""Shaun—""I could go with sunshine, though. Sunshine is useful. It should really be 'sunshine and shotguns.' Something you'd actually be happy about.""Shaun—”

“I feel like I'm forgetting something. Vyrus. Clans. Zombies. Stay out of the sun. Don't get shot. Abandon your life. Drink blood to survive. No, guess that pretty much covers it.”