Friends don't menace friends with giant terrifying swords, okay?

Sometmes when you pull knives on people, they get this impression that you're going to hurt them, and then they're completely terrified. Crazy, I know!"

"Okay," said Nick. He turned to Jamie & popped his left wrist sheath again. "Look."

Jamie backed up. "Which part of 'completely terrified' did you translate as 'show us your knives, Nick'? Don't show me your knives, Nick. I have no interest in your knives."

Nick rolled his eyes. "This is a quillon dagger. That's a knife with a sword handle. I like it because it has a good grip for stabbing."

"Why do you say these things?" Jamie inquired piteously. "Is it to make me sad?"

"I didn't have you cornered," Nick went on. "You could've run. And this dagger doesn't have an even weight distribution; it's absolute rubbish for throwing. If I had any intention of hurting you, I'd have used a knife I could throw."

Jamie blinked. "I will remember those words always. I may try to forget them, but I sense that I won't be able to.

Well, speaking as a feminist, I'm glad that women can lead--uh, groups of unspeakable magical evil."

"Yes," Alan said gravely. "It'd be shoking if the evil magicians were sexist. For one thing, that would mean they were stupid, and having stupid enemies would be a terrible blow to my manly pride.

I'm told I have the body of a god."

"A Greek god, or one of those gods with the horse heads or elephant's legs coming out of their chests?" Alan asked. "Next time someone tells you that, ask them to specify.

Real life is sometimes boring, rarely conclusive and boy, does the dialogue need work.

Mae's first impulse was to die of shame, but she realized after a hot, stomach-clenching moment that this was probably impractical.