“Wake up, Astrid. Your psychotic criminal is playing with knives. (Sasha)”
“My friend died. (Astrid)Died how? (Zarek)Mmm, he had parvo. (Astrid)Isn’t that a dog’s disease? (Zarek)Yes. It was tragic. (Astrid)Hey! I resent that. (Sasha)Behave or I will give you parvo. (Astrid)”
“And I don’t want his body touching something I wear. He’ll contaminate it. (Sasha)Oh, good grief, Sasha. Grow up. You’re four hundred years old and you’re acting like a whelp. It’s not like he has cooties or anything. (Astrid)Yes he does! (Sasha)”
“Why, Sicarius, is it possible you have a playful side beneath your razor-edged knives, severe black clothing and humourless glares?”
“Where's the fun in playing with knives if you can't draw a little blood?”
“What kind of rat bastard psychotic would play that song- right now, at this moment?”