That voodoo that you do 10

Basaltine: Man don't apologise to him. He hates that.

Helmine, your face is beautiful, don't ever change. [a touch of lech, or at least corniness, to the dog's voice here]

Helmine: [Snorts and walks off. Bursts into laughter behind a corner]

Weft: I think what you mean to say, Basaltine, is that the wind must have changed and her expression got stuck like that.

Basaltine: ... My mother never told me that one. She did say that puppies who whine, ask questions or bite at the teat tend to die in their sleep. That wasn't figurative and I'm not convinced she was joking.

Suitov: Mine tended to believe all kinds of... shall we say, avant-garde parenting theories. Mainly harmless ones to do with what type of flowers to plant in your children's garden, or cute fluffy animals.

Nico: You had several mothers?

Suitov: Me? I've no idea what gave you that impression.

Although, just to be clear, my mother was not the same as Bazzle's.

I fail at English... For some reason I thought "mine" was only plural.

Suitov: Don't worry about it. English sounds even more frustrating to learn than Weftworldian.

Weft: Hey! Don't compare that mongrel tongue to mine!

Suitov: [translated] You don't exactly make it trouble-free to learn for an offworlder.

Weft: [translated] Because I can't stand your bad pronunciation, stupid alien.

Suitov: Your voice is so pleasant on the ear. How could I compete? [is not overtly sarcastic]

Weft: Embellish me with silence, all the more
To complement my tone with your restraint.

Suitov: [hat salute]

Ishtar: [conversationally] That's the sexiest way I've ever heard someone say "shut up".

What. I'm just saying.

Gabriel: If you consider wordy, convoluted and pretentious sexy...

Ishtar: Considering the specific background here, yes, I do.

Piper: [stands on keyboard] 56

Weft: 0_o ...I meant it to be irritating...

*lards the Sebbie-doll with lots of pins*

Sebastian: Yes, dear?

Oh, nothing particular.

Sebastian: I see.

*A black dog plushie has had his paws tied together, stitches put through where his mouth should be and some kind of chemical sprayed on him. The smell is driving the soldier chullics, on top of whose mound the doll is placed, into murderous rage. Their acidic saliva and nasty mandibles are making short work of the toy.*

*selects another slightly hellhoundish doll, this one wearing a long leather coat, and sets it on fire with... with FIRE.*

*doll has regenerated, so Weft burns it again*

That and the previous was for straining Sebastian's elegant civility to fracturing point, you horrible sadistic writer.

*stomps ashes*

He's so bloody charming, isn't he?

Sebastian or Mutt?

I was referring to Sebastian.