Stay back, human. You don't know what you're dealing with.

Holly winked. 'Do I look like a fly boy to you, Fowl?' Artemis had to admit that she didn't. Captain Short was extremely pretty in a dangerous sort of way. Black-widow pretty. Artemis was expecting puberty to hit in approximately eight months, and he suspected that at that point he would look at Holly in a different light. It was probably just as well that she was eighty years old.

Hey, look your girlfriend is saying something. Artemis had a vast mental reserve of scathing comebacks at his disposal, but none of them covered girlfriend insults. He wasn't even sure if it was an insult. And if it was, who was being insulted? Him or the girl?

Everything rests on the poisoned wine. If it were just the queen, I could force it down her gullet, but Declan Broekhart would run me through with that damned ceremonial sword, and if his wife's stares were daggers, he'd be dead already.

Quickly, Holly," said Artemis urgently. "Follow those bubbles." Holly opened the throttle. "Now there's an order I never thought I'd hear from you.

That's the last order I'll ever give you Captain. Don't you dare ignore it.

He knew that Dr. Argon would advise him against bottling up his emotions as it would lead to psychological scarring in the long term.