Having been away from you offical duties," Arch said as the Miller's hand lowered to his side, "you might not have hearc, but I've developed a weapon capable of destroying all of Boaderland, Wonderland, Morgavia, Unterlan and who knows what else. I call it WILMA, which stands for Weapon of Inconceivable Loss and Massive Annihilation. It also happens to be the name of one of my former wives, who had to be put down on account of her feisty temper.

For most of the universe's life is not all gummy wads and tarty tarts; is a struggle against hardship, unfairness, corruption, abuse, and adversity in all its guises, where even to survive - let alone survive with dignity - is heroic. To soldier through the days in the wake of failure is the courageous act of many.

Without a twich of exertion, Redd sealed his lips with glue. "Who wants to kill him?" The Cat raised a paw. Siren and Alistare raised their hands. "Mmmmmm mmm mmm," protested Jack.

For no matter what the world, men who deal in headwear are men to be trusted above any other.

Redd turned to her assassins. "What is it I always say?" The Cat, Sacrenoir, and the others bandied uncertain glances about. "Don’t be stupid?" ventured Alistaire. "I should kill you now?" offered The Cat. "Do I have to murder everyone myself?" tried Siren. "No, idiots! When in doubt, go for the head. That’s what I always say.

And even, if circumstances required, a contingency plan for his contingency plan's contingency plan.

The only reason I don't kill him," he remember the woman saying, her voice sounding like the scrape of iron against iron, a corrosion of vocal cords, "is because he's not important enough.