[…] Who thro' mist and darkness still the truth outsought; […]

The woman lying dead in the morgue was the woman at the party. Well, Victor, maybe I'm missing something here. You call it fake, a charade… Do you mind telling me what kind of fuckin' charade ends up with somebody turning up dead?

What is at stake in these next 20 minutes is the championship.

From what I hear fancy pants is dancing real good with that fat pig.