"So, let me get this straight. We've been on the run from monsters for six months now,"
"Right,"
"And yesterday a barmaid morphs and tries to murder me,"
"Yep,"
"And when I hit you up with, "Hey, Calvin, there's trouble; how quickly can you get here?" You accuse me of exaggerating the situation."
Calvin sighed, looking exasperated. "Well, Jill, it's just that... knowing you, it could have as easily been a fashion emergency as the "saving the world" kind. I like to be certain of these things before I go out of my way to ditch my tennis matches."
Jill rolled her eyes. "If it was a 'fashion emergency'," she said, mocking him with air quotes, "Do you honestly believe I'd have called you? As in, the guy who thinks it's fashionable to walk around wearing table cloths, and who—"
"Will probably die looking like one-third of a Peruvian folk band?"
"Now is not the time for Continuity Nods, Calvin, this is serious!"
