Look at his hair. He looks like his father. (Cassandra) He has your lungs. (Wulf) Oh, please! (Cassandra) Trust me. Every Apollite here knows that my parents were unmarried at my birth, and that if you survive the night, you plan on making me a eunuch. (Wulf)
Yeah, well, I’ll be glad to birth it if it means I can name him something normal. (Zarek) Yeah, yeah. This from a man who whines like a two-year-old when he stubs his toe. I’d like to see you survive ten hours of childbirth. (Astrid)
Why would you train an instrument of destruction? (Jericho) We all choose our destinies. Our birth doesn’t dictate our future unless we allow it. (Acheron)
Dammit, Vik. How can you not know what’s wrong with this thing? Can’t you commune with it or something? (Devyn) My name is not ‘Dammit, Vik’ and I find it ironic that you think I can commune with all metal beings when you can barely communicate your point of view to your own parents. And they birthed you. I did not give birth to this ship. Last time I checked, I was male and that would be impossible on a multitude of levels. (Vik)
Is there something I can help with?” “No,” Kat said petulantly. “You’re a man and I hate all of you right now.” He took two steps back. “Fair enough. Since my presence is obviously causing you pain, I’ll take my manhood outside to the terrace, where you can join me if you can overlook my obvious birth defect.
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