“Bailey, where’s your hat?”“In my pocket, sir!”“Why isn’t it on your head?”“Because I can’t get my head in my pocket, sir!”

“Where did you get your copies?" "Out of my head." "That head I see now on your shoulders?" "Yes, sir.”

“But, Sergeant Osbern, Sir, I like my head.”

“Nay, Sir, it was not the WINE that made your head ache, but the SENSE that I put into it''What, Sir! will sense make the head ache?''Yes, Sir, (with a smile,) when it is not used to it.”

“But it’s there. Just because I haven’t told anyone doesn’t mean it isn’t there, all the time, lurking in the back of my mind, like one those NSync songs you can’t get out of your head.”

“Sway’s an idiot who didn’t order them when we used up the last bunch. (Vik)Isn’t that your job? (Devyn)No. I’m the sub-idiot. Sway’s head idiot because the company refuses to deal with mechas. Since I’m not organic, they think I can’t pay. (Vik)Thanks, Vik. (Devyn)Ever my pleasure to irritate you, sir. (Vik)”