“I like fish," chirruped Tunstell."Really, Mr. Tunstell? What is your preferred breed?""Well"--Tunstell hesitated--"you know, the um, ones that"--he made a swooping motion with both hands--"uh, swim.”

“Tunstell, this is your Alpha speaking. Do as I tell you. You must regurgitate now.Regurgitation is an involuntary action. You cannot simply order me to do it,” replied Tunstell in a small voice.“I most certainly can. Besides which, you are an actor.”Tunstell grimaced. “I’ve never had cause to vomit onstage.”

“Ever since her trip with Alexia to Scotland, Mrs. Tunstell had rather a taste for foreign travel. Alexia blamed it on the kilts.”

“...Tunstell was not what one could describe as call subtle. His flaming red hair bobbed up with each pointed and articulated footstep as though he were some cloaked Gothic villain creeping across a stage.”

“I mean to say, really, I am near to developing a neurosis - is there anyone around who doesn't want to study or kill me?"Floote raised a tentative hand."Ah, yes, thank you, Floote.""There is also Mrs Tunstell, madam," he offered hopefully, is if Ivy were some kind of consolation prize."I notice you don't mention my fair-weather husband.""I suspect, at this moment, madam, he probably wants to kill you."Alexia couldn't help smiling. "Good point.”

“What she didn't display, I noticed, was a boxful of swimming medals."Holy crap," I said, when she set them on the desk. "You're like a fish.""Oh. Um. Well, I swim, you see."I saw.”