“It’s not what you wear that sets you apart from your fellow man, but what you don’t wear. I don’t wear pants, for instance, and while you’re pondering that, take a moment to gaze at my penis.”

“Would it make you more comfortable if I wore a condom while I shook your hand? I could wear it on my penis, or stretch it over my hand. I don’t know these things. I’m new to politics.”

“Don’t tempt me. Now, what are you wearing?”“A hoodie and drawstring pants too, I guess.”“Anything underneath?”“I don’t typically walk around without underwear.”“Typically?”“Only on special occasions.”“Christ. I meant under your hoodie”

“I get the whole lost-your-parents thing. Been there. But that don’t have to turn you stupid. That’s a choice, like wearing green stretch pants.”

“I wouldn’t wear tiny amounts of clothing in my real life, so I don’t think it’s necessary to wear that stuff in photo shoots.”

“Do you understand what I’m offering you?""Do you understand that it’s not 1815?""It’s not unusual for Masters to have Consorts.""Yes, and your current Consort’s in my kitchen right now. If you need . . . relieving, talk to her.""As much as it pains me to say it, Amber isn’t you.""I don’t even know what that means. Should I—What? Be flattered that while you don’t like me, you’re willing to sacrifice just to get into my pants?”