Circe was confused as she spoke on the phone with a "antique imports" dealer she was trying to buy from. "L3 Tankette? Che cazzo è una tankette?"

Circe listened to what Marik had to say. She didn't understand. "What would I do with a light tank?" More listening, "That is what you just said it was!"

More listening, "Well what is the difference then?!"

He sent her a picture. Circe stared. Muffled words came from the phone. Circe was still staring. Shouting came from the fun. "Huh?"

She returns to the conversation, "Dude. It is tiny. Do I look like a child soldier to you? This thing looks like it'd go in a theme park, not a battlefield."

There is some more conversation. Circe frowns, "Cazzate." Pause to listen. "Still shit from the bull." The elfin Fairest snarls, "Really? How high are you?!"

Then she shakes her head, "Che diavolo sto facendo?! I called ya fer AKs. Not midget, midget, whoa." He had said something else. Circe sighs, "Dude, a whole pan of pot brownies. Dude, you need to lay down."

She shakes her head, "I am hanging up now," the growl that Circe lets out gets the voice over the phone to go silent, "You call back today, I hurt ya very, very badly." The call ended.