Let Us Proceed Under The Assumption That

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.

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?

A Cloak Of Invisibility? This Is A Highly Sensitive Piece Of Field Equipment. What Does He Think? Some Warlock Pulled It Out Of His Armpit?

I Never Tell Anyone Exactly How Clever I Am. They Would Be Too Scared.

I'm Right There With You, Darlin'. Unless You Step On A Landmine, In Which Case I'm Way Back In The Operations Room.