“Always accepting that the future as we construct it is—”

“I have glandular feelings for you Doc such as would be observed in a brain releasing oxytocin and associated neuropeptides that are linked with the human experience of positive emotion but also with the urge a starfish has to evert its stomach and devour small crustacea as prey.”

“…Shut up or I will have sex with you now and it would hurt you.”

“Ooooooh…”

In fact Doc does not have sex with me because somewhere between the moment when she leans down to kiss me and the moment I touch the skin of her stomach with my hand and I hear her chuckle in her throat and she captures my hand—the one which was inappropriately touched by a significantly excited federal clitoris but the one also which held the tactical pen—and slips it into her mouth—which I totally remember happening but she says never happened—I fall asleep.

—

Here then I guess is the scorecard apart from that we successfully kidnapped a nice lady from a seal sex establishment:

I have annoyed Hans Eiger enough that he called in Monsieur Leclerc the Franco-Belgian Nazi. Leclerc is not a drawing room guy he is not presentable not Swiss-friendly he is a tough guy. He has crossed the line and in fact metaphorically he has peed in the civic fondue and the whole of Swiss lawful goodness desires his balls in a bucket—though they are too lawful good to actually bucketize him—all the same the heat is on him and that is nice. It is not on Eiger so long as Leclerc does not squeal like a—

We do not discuss the squealings of pigs in that way anymore they are family now.

(The ones that are left.)