Intergalactic Summit

Okay. I will order me titanium diborite boxers...
NOT.

Knowing that traitor like you would prefer to see me dead, your care about safety of my lower abdomen looks suspicious.

Dead would be the more likely of those options.

I find it unbelievable that Kim wears any undergarments. How would there be enough room to accommodate that huge stick that's stuck up her butt?

Or it's men's underwear worn backwards.

.

You keep mocking me about that all you like, I'm really very much at peace with the fact that I'm not willing to decapitate somebody who doesn't want me to. As a veteran capsuleer, it's very encouraging to encounter strong proof that I'm not a cold-blooded amoral murderer.

The lesson I learned from you, Diana Kim, is that Yakiya Verin Hakatain is indeed alive and well. Every time you invite me to learn a "new lesson" with that tone of scorn in your voice, you just reveal that your grasp of what happened is characteristically shallow.

You are in serious need of psychiatric treatment. Drugs, counselling, cybernetics, I don't care, but Maker and Winds know, you badly need doctoring. Unfortunately, as a capsuleer and clone, any treatment you received would last only as long as it took for you to suicide or die in battle.

I would much rather see you sane than dead because the former would actually be a permanent and effective solution to the problem you pose. Unfortunately, because we are both Empyreans neither scenario is at all likely, and I'd rather not sully my hands with murder when it wouldn't even solve the problem.

Pilot Nauplius, let us assume for a moment that you correct, that you are in fact one of God’s chosen. Let us also assume that the hellish end your God has deemed necessary has come upon all of us. God and his elect delivering the rest of us heathens over to destruction, all for his glorification.

We the part of a grand creation for which we had no choice but to be a part of, doomed because we were not chosen, thrown out like a spoiled child’s play things, subject to God’s temper tantrum.

Indeed what type of God is so vain as to seek his own glorification through terrorizing lesser beings?

Now, Pilot Nauplius, assume that the show is over, all that is left is God and his chosen elect amongst the ruins of toy blocks and burned dolls. Of course remember you had no choice in being one of the chosen, and God as we know writes the script, and sets the stage. How long will you remain chosen, before it is decided you never were? God pulls the string… Dance puppet!

Of course there is another way, but only you can break the chains.

And the second thing I would like to avoid, is a psychological evaluation, given by a brainwashed gallentean blockhead, who can't analyze even own government crimes.

As citizens can see, such behavior, when these gallentean loudmouth pretend to be medical personnel, is nothing more than typical gallentean propaganda, targeted at loyal Caldari citizens.
There is really no practical sense in talking with such blockheads, since they operate not-existent facts, lies and simple insults. Best way is just kill them on sight.

As I said, I don't need an incompetent evaluation of my mental health by traitor and gallentean bootlicker, who does it only to troll, insult and please his gallentean overlords.