EKOSSIGAN: Your nation's womb will birth a monster. He must not be freed.
NASTYA: The word womb in this context is, um—
SIGRID: And you called us pups before, too?
REKHA: Your use of reproductive terminology it's–it’s– you realize you're fighting five women right now, right? It feels

Fiorella keeps you at an arm's length. She says, "The guest room will be ready for you shortly." Then walks away.

NASTYA: You should rest.
RYUKEN: You're right. I mean, you're always right. Goodnight.

NASTYA: Just get me a fucking finger or something.
REKHA: You read my mind.

REKHA: They live together, Shura.

SHURA: You’ve got to get the brown sauce AND the mushy peas.

EKOSSIGAN: Fine. Have it your way.
RYUKEN, AS THE LIGHT FADES FROM HER EYES: Burger King ……

REKHA: Let me rephrase. I don't know if I want to tell you about all of this because I think if you knew, you would be in danger.

Peel that cat!

VIKTORIYA: Something tells me this coworker of yours is trouble.
NASTYA: I get the feeling all of them are.

Nastya looks at Rekha for a moment, picturing that burning house in her mind, then pictures a different house, in a different time, and a crying child.

The owlbear quietly sobs.

Peel that cat!

EKOSSIGAN, VISIBLY UNCOMFORTABLE: O-okay.
REKHA: Why don't you call it our nation's ballsack or something, come on.

"The Lost Child. Mind shattered, warped and broken. Not ever the wiser to the enemy right in front of her face."

It's a tight little, uh—
A hole? A tight little hole?