(Bartleby and Loki have missed the last bus to New Jersey.)
Bartleby: Nice. Your hard-on for smiting has prevented us from negotiating what ought to be the relatively simple matter of catching or staying on a bus.
Loki: Oh, bus, schmuss. Anyway, w-why should we fall victim to gravity when we can just as easily rise above?
Bartleby: You mean fly?
Loki: We got wings, right? ****, let's use 'em!
Azrael: I wouldn't suggest that. You see, kids, you wouldn't want to look like a couple of fairies, now would you?
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