Thought(Grant): This house is a mess. Those cheap-rate janitors have been a total disaster. Look at this dust! Do you want to live in a pigsty?
Thought(Grant): Maybe I should dump the chief steward job on parliament and walk away. But who am I kidding, they can't manage their own affairs, much less the telepath's.
Thought(Grant): Everything is done in the name of Evil Overlord Xander. Except when they dissolve into giggles pronouncing it. Which no doubt is endearing you to the people immensely.
Thought(Grant): Are you listening to me? Ha ha, of course you are.
Thought(Grant): Prime Minister Elect Diaboloniana Beelzebubba -- you remember the election last week?-- Her Wednesday night coven meeting got ... something...they claim it's ectoplasm... all over the ceiling.
Thought(Grant): Why don't you clean the ceiling? One of us has to actually work to get stuff done. Do I have to do everything?
Telepathy(Xander): 1981. The year you told me that a benevolent dictatorship was a human rights violation and suggested a constitutional monarchy. We could solve this problem by declaring women emotionally unfit to hold public office. Whaddaya say?
Thought(Grant): Get thee behind me Satan.
Telepathy(Xander): Are you sure? We have to perform the investiture in two days.
Xander: After you.
Grant: Not on your life.
Grant: Eugene, wait. Listen to me.
Grant: I'm glad that the surgery worked for the woman. You saved her life. But you can't steal her life from her now. You have to let her go.
Grant: Deep down, I know that you're still a good person. You can still choose the right thing. Be realistic! No one can stand to even be around your power. She's not like you. No one is you.
Grant: Besides, what was so wrong with the idea of a memory wipe. Then pack both of the castaways back to San Francisco?
Xander: Someone...who shall remain nameless...held a gun to my head and forced me to save their lives.
Xander: It was a very stylish gesture.