Armour... is part of a state of mind... in which you admit the possibility... of being hit.

Strange, isn't it,' mused Glokta as he watched him struggle for air. 'Big men, small men, thin men, fat men, clever men, stupid men, they all respond the same to a fist in the guts. One minute you think you're the most powerful man in the world. The next you can't even breathe by yourself.

Apologise to my fucking dice!

Why?’ she hissed. Why indeed? ‘I give you orders,’ he barked, ‘not fucking reasons!

I used to love to hear stories of that man’s exploits! One of my heroes, when I was young. Riding round the enemy, harassing his lines of communication, falling on the baggage train and whatnot.”The Prince’s riding crop rode around, harassed, and fell on imaginary baggage in the air before him.

Eszébe jutott Frieflif sörének íze, és megnyalta a szája szélét, de ekkor elkapta Rulf rosszalló pillantását, és egyből eszébe jutott Friedlif sörének íze, amikor éppen visszafelé jött.