Imri: Do you mind? We’re trying to eat.
Stanczia: You can tell he’s one of the foreign guests. No manners.
That, and he looks like a drowned rat.
Leif: Thån . . . ?
Imri: Oh, this is cute. Are you friends with dinner?
Thorn: He is not your dinner. He is under my protection, and you are going to let him go.