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"This is why I hate going into imperial space. You guys are the worst. Stuffed up, arrogant and far too willing to use extreme measures on first contact." Griped a clearly aggravated Hasha as she stared Aleksandr, trying to hold her stare even as she took a sip from her ever present flask. "You look like any other imperial desk jockey I've dealt with, chest full of likely unearned medals. I bet you got the same stick up the backside they always have too. You imperial guys...really are the worst."

"All that alcohol made you stinky.....that'syour new name: Stinky Lady"

You call yourself a warrior among warriors? You're nothing but a embarrassment.

"Says the dead beat who took his sons arm. Like, find your own power, don't take your son's."

Sunny Smiles at Nayuta, he wasnt really great at insults. "Your overconfident and bad at naming" he said.. before apologizing profusely seconds later

"I'd get a better deal from drinking a bottle of Sunny-D compared to putting up with your overtly-cheerful nonsense."

(Laudomia, 2nd gen)

The fashionista lowered her green glasses down her nose, looked - no, stared - at Harrison for some long instants and then SCREAMED bloody murder!

"In the holy name of Versace, WHAT third class thrift store did that HORROR", she pointed a spindly finger at his coat, "ever come from?!! Just... I cannot... the color, the fabric, it's all wrong! You are all wrong! Look at how faded that shirt is, when did your grandfather even buy it?! I get vintage has its charme but there have been times when people didn't know how to dress properly! I can't, really I can't... and don't get me started on the rest!" Throwing a look at his age-lined face, she started fanning herself vigorously.

"Darling, your poor hair! On the sides, it's all.... discoloured... I can't even bear to look at it..." She was trying to be nice, oh yes she was! Not her fault if people walked around like absolute FASHION DISASTERS, was it? "And those wrinkles around your eyes! Oh, I can't stand it! I'm sure you had an... er... interesting face to begin with and now it's utterly marred! I can't watch people get old and decrepit..."

Wait, had she just mistaken him for Leonard?

"What a church bell!" He gasped out loud, "You should really just shut your sauce box, honestly." Alois spat, raising both of his blonde brows. "You make my maid Hannah seem not so obnoxious!" The blonde propped both thin, pale hands on his hips and gave a wide smirk, enjoying insulting the hell out of Laudomia. "And what in the devil is that bloody thing on your face you're wearing? They look like you squished a lime across your eyes and called it fashion!" He pointed at the green, futuristic glasses the fashionista wore. "I bet you have wrinkles too, just like that old guy over here! You just have so much makeup on, no one can tell!" Alois whipped around, taking one hand off his hip to hold into the air for an exaggerated motion to help prove his point. It seemed he was no better than Laudomia when it came to being loud, dramatic and judgement of others.

Great, Another useless rich brat.

"Oh, great. Another twenty-something-year-old who never outgrew their I'm-so-cold-and-edgy phase." The man proceeded to click his tongue. "I guess not all flowers can bloom on time - or under a winter sun, come to think."

"At least he's not another dime-a-dosen vampire antihero. How does it feel to be a low-grade copy of Blade?"

"Shhhh. There's a pack of crayons over there. You're not you when you're hungry my friend. "

"Y-you... your shirt is rumpled..."

"Not quite an insult, is it?" Ciel approached, "More of a notice of detail than anything."
Ciel leaned on his cane, staring at Pearline through his large, bright blue eye. The other eye covered by a black eyepatch.

"If you cannot pull an insult that is not simply pointing out a wrinkly shirt, then you should not be in this game at all."

Venom growls. "Eddie, why is this kids yapping like an old man?"

Eddie shrugs. "He's a rich brat who likes to ride the high horse but couldn't even save himself. Pathetic."

"Who the hell you talkin with, schizo? Oh god, just what I needed, another sixteen something who missed his meds." That's when it hits Revenant. The oily substance, the stench of death following Eddie Brock, and the dreadful realization he's, in fact, not talking to himself. "OH GOD, WHAT IS THAT?!" It's only by the universal laws ruling over this... Social space that Revenant doesn't reach for his gun. "What the HELL kinda tapeworm is that and wHY-- WHY ARE YOU CHATTIN WITH IT?? Man, I've seen some, and been through, some truly gut-emptying crap, but you might take the excrement cake. You've got some form of worm, parasite, whatever the hell that is, and you're talkin with it??" Revenant repeats it, as if in denial, the thorough repulsion in his ironically somewhat sickly colored features turning into instant hate; "Hell, that thing must've taken over your poor brains, you're gone, brother. You need to be put down. I don't know how I'd live with myself letting a sewage gunk worm with teeth life under mY SKIN, OH GOD, IT'S CRAWLIN UNDER YOUR SKIN, YOU FREAK!!"

The brigand secretly hopes he never has to cross with Brock and his pet symbiote ever again.
Or so he thinks the parasite is the pet.

“For a man who says who seen some stuff, you freak out from that? You need to take your meds and lay down, old man. Retire at some retirement home on some resort world” she laughs as she drinks her stuff drink.

"XCOM 2 called. They said that only thing this demolitionist is gonna explode out here is her career."

"Jeez, can't even tell anyone a little about themselves without asking them to go to some nefarious place outside the city. Must be a 'journalist' with the New York Post."

"Mid that peaked in middle school says what?"