How was your... eh... trip?" Artemis felt the sting of tears in his own eyes. "Um, eventful.

No matter what dimension you're in, there's a big-headed male trying to take over the world.

I wear a name tag to help people find me. It saves time when you're dealing with idiots.

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

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.

Boo-hoo. Help me, I'm a girl. What kind of modern woman are you? A smart one.

Don't you worry about that, Mr. Adamsson. Why don't you head back to Reykjavik and spend some of that extortionate fee you charged me for a couple of hours' usage of your frankly third-rate restaurant and perhaps find a friendless tree stump to listen to your woes?