“You want to know a secret?""Always.""My real name is Dave.""I see.""This doesn't seem to amuse you.""I met Jeremy the troll a few nights ago.""Seriously?""Seriously. Also known as the Mighty Raaaarrggh! Although...I can sorta see why you changed the name. 'Dave' isn't knwon for its mysterious, mystic sexiness.”

“Someone says 'inauguration' in my line of work, and you can just bet there'll be freaky shit. It's like quests. You get told to 'go forth and seek the travelcard of destiny' and you know, I mean, you seriously know that it won't have just been left down the back of the sofa.”

“But it's not healthy!” replied the Hag. “A mortal and a god sharing the same flesh?”“You know, this isn't why we're here. I can get abuse pretty much wherever.”“Yeah,” sighed the Maid, “but I bet a tenner I can make you cry in half a minute.”

“The armored men counted to three, then burst inside the flat, shouting impressive things like "clear!" or "go go go!" as they did. Oda said, "Gum?""You chew gum?""No. but I always carry it, to use as barter when visiting prisons.""Do you see how I'm not asking you?""Smart.”

“So...I suggest you try and get control over your more unusual nature, see if you can't coax those claws away, and I'll try very, very hard not to throw up over what's left of your shoes. How does that sound?”

“I was the apprentice of Robert James Bakker. I'm sure you've heard of him. I am a sorcerer. I was there when Bakker died. We... made it happen. I too have met death, and did not have to peel the bones away from my chest to survive the encounter. I am also, and incidentally, the Midnight Mayor, the blue electric angels, the fire in the wire, the song in the telephones, and we are having a bad week. Be smart; fear us.”

“I looked at Judith. "This sounds strange, but I don't suppose you saw three mad women with a cauldron of boiling tea pass by this way?""No," she replied. The polite voice of reasonable people scared of exciting the madman."Flash of light? Puff of smoke? Erm..." I tried to find a polite way of describing the symptoms of spontaneous teleportation without using the dreaded "teleportation" word. I failed. I slumped back into the sand. What kind of mystic kept a spatial vortex at the bottom of their cauldrons of tea anyway?”