All right, grandma. Give you that. Good one.
This shell... you had affection for it, for Fred.
Tons. Loved the bird.
Yet you strike at her form without sentiment.
You ain't her. I can see it. Lord knows I can smell i, and I got no problem hitting it.
You're adapting.
We do that.
Adaptation is compromise.
It's called learning. But then I guess you know everything there is to know.
When the world met me, it shuddered, groaned. It knelt at my feet.
"Dear Penthouse, I don't normally write letters like this, but—"
[punches him in the face] Illyria was all they needed to know.
Then came the Internet.
You have nothing. Your kind has pulled this domain apart. Each of you has snatched a tiny piece of it. Even those with the mightiest hordes are paupers.
The one who dies with the most toys wins, eh?
To never die, and to conquer all. That is winning.
Now, that's cheating.
[speaking in comm] Spike, talk to you for a minute?
You may go.
Yeah, great. Thanks so much.
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