That Vala Mal Doran was certainly a strange one. One minute she shot him, the next she healed him. She fought with him, hammer and tongs, tooth and nail; then she came onto him, kissing him lightly but in a way that guaranteed him kissing her back despite himself. When she pulled back, he said the first thing that popped into his head.

“You’re a fruitcake.”

In retrospect, not the best of moves. She head butted him. At least he wasn’t out too long, and was able to zat her. But he felt his assessment was accurate—she’s a fruitcake.

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