Seems like half my anxiety dreams are about airports.

The Imperial Service could win a war without coffee, but would prefer not to have to.

Guard your honor. Let your reputation fall where it will. And outlive the bastards.

Cecil flashed a grin. "Quite. Plus your rather irritating habit of treating your superior officers as your, ah..." Cecil paused, apparently groping again for just the right word. "Equals?" Miles hazarded. "Cattle," Cecil corrected judiciously.

What you are is a question only you can answer.

One step at a time, I can walk around the world. Watch me.

Some men just aren't cut out for paternity. Better they should realize it before and not after they become responsible for a son.