“It was official. I really was Senorita Fucktard.”

“Will not the Senorita trust me?"Ramona smiled faintly through her tears. "Yes," she said. "I will trust you. You are Alessandro, are you not?""Yes, Senorita," he answered, greatly surprised, "I am Alessandro.”

“You’re joking, right?”“No. I’ve been living here for a while—like a couple of years with my roommate. You know, the fucktard who put poor Raphael outside.”“Hey!” the guy yelled from inside their apartment. “I have a name. It’s Señor Fucktard!”

“Har, har. You're a borderline fucktard, you know that? Torin to Strider”

“I felt like I needed something official to show me how all of this should feel, how I should be acting, what I should be saying--even if it was just some dumb movie that wasn't really official at all.”

“I had a weapon of my own and I wasn't afraid to fucking use it. And if I died? Who the fuck cared? I put the gun to my head and demanded to be let through. The fucktards shot me.”