JOHN: here we are. JOHN: ready everyone? ROSE: I guess as ready as one can be, to initiate lethal combat with the extraterrestrial founder of a nefarious baking good syndicate. JOHN: wait, what? JOHN: i thought we were fighting the condesce. ROSE: We are. ROSE: The Condesce is Betty Crocker. JOHN: she is?? ROSE: Yes. ROSE: Wait. John, are you telling me you're only realizing this now? JOHN: um... ROSE: Unbelievable. JOHN: hey, nobody TOLD me, ok? ROSE: There's this thing called inference, John. ROSE: Examining a large body of evidence, putting the pieces together, making certain logical leaps, drawing conclusions... JOHN: sorry, i guess i was too busy saving everybody from dying horribly, to solve a very stupid mystery about a shitty cake woman. :p ROSE: I guess so. ROSE: So what do you have to say about that? JOHN: about what? ROSE: About the alias of the Condesce. JOHN: oh. JOHN: it's fine, i guess. ROSE: Fine? JOHN: yeah... JOHN: what else am i supposed to think about it! ROSE: I don't know. ROSE: I guess I thought you might be floored by this stunning revelation, given your irrational hatred for that particular dessert corporation. JOHN: eh, it's alright. JOHN: sorta makes sense actually. what's the big deal? ROSE: John, you're kind of letting me down here. JOHN: sorry!!! JOHN: i just think we have bigger fish to fry, than... heh heh, fish... JOHN: i mean more important things to do, than get down on the floor, and have a melodramatic tantrum about a ridiculous and stupid fact that doesn't matter. ROSE: John, stop it. ROSE: The degree of maturity you are showing here is really bad for morale. JOHN: oh, shush. JOHN: listen, whatever she is, cake mogul, or alien empress, or queen of derse, or sexy sea lady with too much hair... JOHN: let's just fuck her up! ROXY: yeah!!!