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“Are you enjoying the book, dear Captain?”

“Less than I expected. Too much kitsch, and very little substance.”

“A lot of our poetry only starts making sense once you start replacing every instance of ‘honor’ with ‘cock’.”

“I’ve already been doing that! I made notes, look: HONOR = PENIS, in a heterosexual union, or a vassal-lord one. In a romance between enemies, the correct euphemism is a blade of some kind. Footnote: a woman’s ownership of honor is temporary, unless it was stuck into her chest.

“Ah. Are there any more notes?”

“I’ll leave them on your desk when I’m done.”