- Crow: So, hey, if we hit April with a really big frying pan, she'll come to her senses, right?
- Zoë Castillo: What? No!
- Crow: Yes, yes! It's called 'therapy'. I read about it somewhere. Well, not 'read'. More like 'heard'. In a seedy tavern near the docks. After eleven thimbles of Merry Minstrum's Yellow Fire. Just before dawn. On a Monday. But I Remember the fella who told me! Big lad. Arms as thick as oak trees. A stunning collection of scars. Nice eye-patch. A real therapist he was. Or wait... maybe he was 'rapist'...
- Zoë Castillo: It was nice chatting with you, Crow. It's been very informative.
- Crow: Glad to help, doll.
- Zoë Castillo: 'Doll'?
- Crow: Um, I mean 'independent and self-reliant female person who's not an object to be ogled or used solely for my own personal amusement and pleasure'.
- April Ryan: Did you find her?
- Crow: I did, and she's doing fine. They haven't beheaded her yet. I think. Can they reattach your head after cutting it off?
- [April is pretending to deliver sandwiches to get into Friar's Keep]
- Crow: The classic Trojan sandwich. Good move, April. After all, that's how the Ayredeans conquered Eruden.
- April Ryan: With a sandwich?
- Crow: Not as such. They had this huge boat, which they filled with explosives, and then they tied this straw puppet in a dress with ginormous... Ahem. Uh, never mind.
- Crow: Don't shoot the messenger! I'm just the messenger, see, and I don't want to get shot because of that whole shoot the messenger-thing.