Sig Sauer. Nine millimetres. Thirteen in the magazine. Big bullets. One of these hits you and it could blow your head off; something even the magic can't fix. Other than that you should be all right, presuming you remembered to wear the regulation above-ground micro-fibre jumpsuit recently patented by me. Then again, being a Recon jock, you probably didn't.

Let's save some time here. I grow weary of your clumsy bluffs. In the case of an abduction, the LEP will send a crack Retrieval team to get back what has been lost.. You have done so. Excuse me while I titter. Crack team? Honestly. A Cub-Scout patrol armed with water pistols could have defeated them.

Yes, Chix, it's between us. Everyone has a right to be temporarily unstable. - Foaly

Certainly, Doctor. Let's talk about your chair. Victorian?

Maybe I’ll keep you.” Abbot chuckled and prodded Artemis’s back with his sword. “It’d be nice to have a pet human around. I could teach you tricks.” “I have a trick for you,” said Artemis, and he fired a single blast from the gun.

The name's Bond. James Omar Bond.

I am unarmed. But Butler here, my ...ah...butler, has a Sig Saucer in his shoulder holster, two shrike-throwing knives in his boots, aderringer two-shot up his sleeve, garrotte wire in his watch, and three stun greanades concealed in variouse pockets. Anything else, Butler?