“I’ll go and help. (Chris)What are we supposed to do with you, Chris? Lob you at them? (Wulf)”

“Chris would disagree with you. (Wulf)I think Chris would disagree with a signpost. (Cassandra)”

“It’s a sun lamp. I thought you might be tired of your pasty-pale complexion. (Chris)Christopher, I happen to be a Viking in the middle of winter in Minnesota. Lack of a deep tan goes with the whole Nordic territory. Why do you think we raided Europe anyway? (Wulf)Because it was there? (Chris)No, we wanted to thaw out. (Wulf)”

“And yet you live. (Wulf)Ever the better to procreate for you. It’s a hell of a life. (Chris)”

“I’m protecting her. (Wulf)From? (Chris)Daimons. (Wulf)Big bad ones. (Cassandra)”

“You can party, but I better not catch you drunk. (Wulf)(Chris rolled his eyes, then bent down to said to Cassandra’s stomach...)Be wise, little guy, stay in there where Lord King Neurotic can’t kill all your fun. (Chris)”

“You do know that as a small child, they actually carried me around on a pillow? I had a custom-made helmet that I had to wear until I was four. (Chris)That’s because you banged your head every time you got angry. I was afraid you were going to get brain damage from it. (Wulf)The brain is fine. It’s my ego and social life in the toilet. I shudder at what you’re going to do to the kid. (Chris dropped his voice and imitated Wulf’s lilting Norse accent.) Don’t move, you might get bruised. Oops, a sneeze, better call in specialists from Belgium. Headache? Odin forbid, it might be a tumor. Quick, rush him for a CAT scan. (Chris)”