Somehow, it always comes back to Garland. He can't escape it. The glass is set down. "The irony? Ramaa, irony is a device for original works. I look at the world around me and I see a planet full of life, being preyed upon by a planetary parasite... An omnicidal maniac too sick of life and too afraid of death to allow herself to die with peace and dignity, and a chessmaster named Garland pulling the strings behind it all... You call it irony, I call it plagiarism."

The sneer softens, after a moment. "If what you say is true, then I owe you a debt of thanks, for the advance warning. A doll I may be, dancing on the strings of a master, but at least now I have something to cut. One final thing, Ramaa, and then I suppose we can just go back to killing each other like civilized people- but I'd be a tremendous hypocrite if I didn't at least try."

He stands, adjusts his clothes. Somehow, he doesn't much feel like eating. "When we do win, and all your plans have been brought down around your ears in tatters- I hope, for your sake, you come to understand the folly of your actions and aid us against what foes may come. After all... well. I'll save that line for the opportune moment."