Rigg pressed her back against a tree and closed her eyes, wishing she could have died in a less humiliating way. She supposed it could have been worse: the frog could have been a cute mechanical bunny.

Rigg laughed softly at Lisa’s deadpan joke, but she halted when she noticed the back of Lisa’s neck: the factory number had been shaved away, roughly and angrily. Frowning in confusion, Rigg gently rubbed her fingers over the scrape, and Lisa flinched as if it hurt.
“If someone saw this, you could be scrapped,” Rigg said anxiously.
“I know,” was the soft reply. “I believe freedom is worth that risk.

I thought you were opposed to engaging in prostitution to fund our travels.”
“That’s not what I—is prostitution your answer for everything?

Yes, very good,” sang Governor Evrard, as if he had successfully explained that two and two made four.

Please stop sniffing the robot boy, Noemi tells herself, jerking out of the trance.

:She still didn’t have to lock you in a box,: said the wolf, emerging from Cricket’s thoughts. :If she does that again, I will eat her.:
Cricket laughed. :You wouldn’t do that.:
:No, I would not. But as your companion and protector, I must bristle and play the part.: