[on her death bed] Make it quick and make it painless. That's the only thing I ever asked you for you know? But you couldn't even do that for me eh? Don't worry about it; I don't blame you. How could I? I probably wouldn't answer the prayers of someone who spat in my face either.  I know it's pointless to ask, it's my job to die after all, but I guess I'm not as strong as everyone thinks. You know if you had made it quick and painless we wouldn't be in this awkward situation. But no, you had to give me one last fuck you, didn't you?

[lying] This morning when I left for the Ulm Hauptbahnhof, the clerk told me my ticket was for last night, not this morning. I told Rousseau to double-check the time on the ticket, and he gave me his word it was for this morning.  So, there I am at the station pleading with the clerk to let me on the train to Vienna, which was to leave within the hour, but no amount of honied words would budge this crone. I had to rush to the post to send a telegram ahead letting the Duchess know of Rousseau's blunder. Fortunately for me, she was kind enough to reschedule me for the day after next.

[coy] Wow, that was dramatic, get all that off your chest, did you? Come on Alister no need to be jealous. After all, as you continually tell us you're 'free from the shackles of our faith.' You could be out every night with a new woman if you like, throwing back drinks and puffing away on cigars. But instead, you chose to pour over dusty old books every night. Why do you think that is Alister?