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Piano: Ba DUM ba da dum dum BA ba doo ba da DA....
Holo-Torres: What a suspiciously perfect baby shower!
Seven: A toast: may the baby be far less stupid and annoying than her parents.
Holo-Paris and Holo-Torres: Hear, hear!
Seven: I want quarters and a uniform.
Holo-Janeway: We're fresh out of uniforms -- want a tutu?
Paris: We're detecting energy discharges up ahead. Heh heh, I said "discharges."
Janeway: I don't see what's so funny.
Kim: That's because you're staid and Victorian.
Janeway: Thou speakest false, rapscallion. Zounds!
Tuvok: Gonna come to the real baby shower, Seven?
Seven: No, I'm antisocial.
Tuvok: Welcome to the club. Take a number.
Seven: Can I have the number 7?
Tuvok: No.
Holo-Neelix: Your quarters are nifty.
Seven: Thanks. Now get lost.
Holo-Chakotay: Your quarters are nifty.
Seven: Thanks. Wanna go out?
Doc: Tut-tut. You're not regenerating enough.
Seven: "Enough" is in the eye of the beholder.
Doc: Yeah, but...er...blast, flanked by the eye-of-the-beholder manoeuvre!
Janeway: Seven, you need to find us a way to predict the discharges.
Seven: I see you're out of Victorian mode.
Seven: Hey longtime rival, have a gift. So what's with the hair?
Torres: Hey Harry, should I thank her or kill her?
Kim: Don't ask me, I'm an idiot.
Seven: You know, you're sexier than the real Chakotay.
Holo-Chakotay: I am the real Chakotay.
Seven: Um...oh yeah, that's right. Sorry. Can we get busy now?
Chakotay: You're late.
Seven: Believe me, real Chakotay, you do not want to know why.
Holo-Chakotay: Put passion into your piano-playing, Seven! You know, like I put into my acting!
Seven: Is that a clever way of telling me to stop?
Janeway: (over the comm) Seven, we need you at your station!
Seven: Okay, I'll be there as soon as it's too late!
Janeway: You screwed up! Why?
Seven: "Screwed up" is in the eye of the beholder.
Janeway: Yeah, but...um...aw, nuts.
Icheb: I've been learning clich�s. I'm now packed to the rafters with them.
Seven: I don't care, pipsqueak.
Icheb: The squeaky wheel gets the grease.
Seven: He's about to get major injuries too.
Icheb: Must you add injury to--OW! You wound me!
Seven: I have decided to dump you like a sack of cheap potatoes.
Holo-Chakotay: How can you do this to me, the real Chakotay?
Seven: It's surprisingly ea--YEAAAGGH!
Holo-Chakotay: Ha. Chakotay 1, Seven 0.
Doc: Seven! Oh no! What happened?
Holo-Chakotay: Well, we were having an emotional discussion....
Doc: Emotions? You can't be the real Chakotay.
Seven: So yeah, I was dating a pseudo Tattoo Boy.
Doc: For the love of God, why him?
Seven: Ever since Axum, I've been attracted to bland men.
Doc: So who's next, David Duchovny? I guess anyone with hair is fine by you....
Seven: Psst...Doc, you're being too blatant with the unrequited love again.
Doc: Oops. Sorry.
Seven: This is bad. I need redemption.
Janeway: (over the comm) Quick, Seven, save the ship!
Seven: That'll do.
Doc: Turns out your Borg tech shuts you down when you feel strong emotions.
Seven: That's laughable! I've been having all kinds of them for years!
Doc: Maybe "strong" is in the eye of the beholder.
Seven: Yeah, but...um....
Doc: Gotcha. Anyway, I can try fixing you....
Seven: Screw it. I'd rather be a tragic character.
Chakotay: Wanna come to a party? I, the real Chakotay, am going.
Seven: Sigh...I can't, I just can't. See how tragic I am? See?
(Voyager blasts off at Ludicrous Speed)
THE END
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