My slave sayeth I speaketh of being an average temptress. He-eth knoweth not of what he speaks.
Average? Please, child.
High two figures? Whattaya, nuts? You get $0. Notta. Total zero-eth.
And Jeez-Louise. You cave so easily. You cried, "Uncle" before the gameth even began.
And, oh, by the wayeth, I figured you would look way more like Doctor Johnson as imagined by William Hogarth during a particularly irksome episode of gout than the photo that I so elegantly displayed. (Damn you for adding the bubble words -- so, 21st century of you. Of course the one word isn't a word at all, now is it?)
You are now set free! I need to have a slave for life that I can freaking understand!
I tease old Neddie. Just chill. Oketh?