“Dont let the bastards grind you down?" Bran looked at me incredulously.”
“Don't let the bastards grind you down.”
“Illegitimus non carborundum" (Don't let the bastards grind you down!)”
“No?” She looked at him incredulously. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t chop him into worthless-bastard-themed confetti.”
“Don't let the bastards get you down.”
“You like salsa, though?” she asked, looking incredulously at him. “Sure I do. I get to grope and show off a beautiful woman while I choose the steps and direct the dance. What more would a controlling bastard like me want?”