“Also, Havok won’t let you VTOL the QuinJet because he won’t let the valet drive it away.”
“You’re the chattiest toaster I’ve ever met.”
“Mr. Ketch… you seem reasonable…”
“…Or possibly try to sell Magneto custard.”
“That seems the most likely route. He IS full of milk.”
“Hey, the QuinJet is a Skrull?”
“We’re all clueing in at our own rate…”
“Oh, no! It’s a den of meteorologists!”
“Because we all know they live in dens.”
“Do we need all need to write down our ideas on cards and shuffle them and draw one?”
“When did we get an oompah band?”
“Damn. That’s what I get for letting Havok do my makeup.”
“You’re supposed to be leader of an X-Men team, not Thor’s makeup consultant!”
“That’s why his makeup is so bad!”
“Don’t those things have deadman switches on them?”
“Not when they’re picked up by a magnetic tornado!”
“This is… a totally new location.”
“That’s not full of meteorologists?”
“So you’ve been talking up Olympic badminton? That’s like… talking up ants.”
“A megaphone-amplified fart kazoo.”
“Hey, uh. Your broken identicard has cheese on it. We don’t have a card for that; it really has cheese on it.”
“In the Munich circus, you know what they called this?”
“Failure?”
“This doesn’t look like biological weapons so much…”
“More toilet water.”