Theresa

“I was chosen, too, you fatherless son of a whore. [...] But it's my people at the Cockerel that I'll kill you for, and for what you did to Alec. For the runners and keeks you used and betrayed, the innocents who've died at your order. Hell, I'll kill you for the sheer fun of it. Come on, Lord Eater of Shit. Let's get this over with.”
― Lynn Flewelling, Stalking Darkness

“You're a natural actor when the role doesn't go against your stiff-necked, Dalnan yeoman's pride. Relax! Flow with the moment."

Seregil suddenly grabbed him by the arm and whirled him into an eccentric jig around the room. Alec hadn't even heard him approach. But he recovered swiftly and took the lead.

"But Sir Alec IS a stiff-necked Dalnan yeoman," he said, laughing as he clomped through the steps of a country dance Beka and Elsbet had taught him.

"Wrong!" Grinning wickedly, Seregil yanked him into a formal pavan. "Sir Alec is stiff-necked Dalnan GENTRY. Besides, he should be picking up some of Lord Seregil's airs along the way."

Alec leaned back in mock horror. "Maker's Mercy, anything but that!”
― Lynn Flewelling, Stalking Darkness

“I don't like this."
"To be fair, Matthias, you don't like much.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“Jesper couldn’t quite believe he was having a conversation with the Sturmhond. The privateer was a legend. He’d broken countless blockades on behalf of the Ravkans and there were rumors that… “Do you really have a flying ship? blurted Jesper.
“No.”
“Oh.”
“I have several.”
“Take me with you.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom