“THAT’S MY WIFE, EVERYBODY!”

Ignore the fact that the whole point of this ceremony is that they’re not married yet. Ignore that Comstar is obviously posing and trying to make it sound like she’s still being talked about. Ignore the motorcycle and the thugs in suits and gowns.

Just focus on the adoration and [i]joy[/i] in Sara’s voice. And how it’s one of those sentences that changes with the inflection. She could have gone with “[i]that’s[/i] my wife” or, more on brand, “that’s [i]my[/i] wife.” But no, she went for “that’s my [i]wife.[/i]” Wife. Wow. They’re going to be wives. Has that sunken in yet? Maybe not. From the look of worshipful awe on Sara’s face, she’s finding new facets of delight even now at the altar.

“She means that, by the way. She’s going to make a [i]point[/i] of breaking people’s legs. She’s switching off the limiters that [i]stop[/i] her from snapping them like twigs when she steps on them [i]right now.[/i]”

She stops, pecks her battle bride on the cheek, and then adds in a stage whisper that provokes nervous laughter from the audience: “Can you see about breaking Comstar’s jaw, too? We still owe her another asskicking over [i]that[/i] incident...”