Stanczia: Imri? The same little Imri who interviewed me for a school paper?
Imri: Yes, milady.
Stanczia: You don’t smell like a girl anymore.
Imri: No, milady. They have injections to fix that now.
Stanczia: Do you taste like a girl?
Imri: I wouldn’t know. Nobody’s checked.
Stanczia: Butler, take the rest of them to see their new offices. Imri will be joining you . . . later.