“Lynn, she saved half our faction from this stuff," says Marlene, tapping the bandage on her arm from where the Dauntless traitors shot her. "Well, half of half of our faction.""In some circles they call that a quarter, Mar," Lynn says.”

“Well, half of half our faction.''In some circles they call that a quarter, Mar,' Lynn says.”

“So, the thing we’re all not talking about,” he says. He gestures to me. “You almost died, a sadistic pansycake saved you, and now we’re all waging some serious war with the factionless as allies.”“Pansycake?” says Christina.“Dauntless slang.” Lynn smirks. “Supposed to be a huge insult, only no one uses it anymore.”“Because it’s so offensive,” says Uriah, nodding.“No. Because it’s so stupid no Dauntless with any sense would speak it, let alone think it. Pansycake. What are you, twelve?”“And a half,” he says.”

“The nation is divided, half patriots and half traitors, and no man can tell which from which.”

“I think it would be easier to fight in a dress,” says Marlene, tapping her chin. “It would give your legs freer movement. And who really cares if you flash people your underwear, as long as you’re kicking the crap out of them?”Lynn goes silent, like she recognizes that as a spark of brilliance but can’t bring herself to admit it.“What’s this about flashing underwear?” says Uriah, sidestepping a bunk. “Whatever it is, I’m in.”

“If you throw yourself into danger for no reason again, you will have become nothing more than a Dauntless adrenaline junkie looking for a hit, and I'm not going to help you do it." He spits the words out bitterly. "I love Tris the Divergent, who makes decisions apart from faction loyalty, who isn't some faction archetype. But the Tris who's trying as hard as she can to destroy herself... I can't love her.”