Usually in a battle sequence when a bomb is going off, you forget you're acting.
I have one speed, I have one gear: Go!
Shut your evil mucus-hole you truth terrorist. You LOSE every time a mirror implodes from your barbed and gristle image.
I blinked and I cured my brain.
I've got magic. I've got poetry at my fingertips.
We're Vatican assassins. How complicated can it be?