Simply put, my greatest night at the gladiator fights. Greatest night of my life! To see Feyd-Rautha fight in person. If you haven’t witnessed it, you can’t know. We’ve all seen fine displays of blood and brutality that tickle the innards. But this was… religious.

Everyone’s got their favorite fighters, but no one does it with the charm and artistry of Feyd-Rautha. And it is art! Seeing a noble, the nephew of our Baron, down in the fighting pit is spectacle enough, but Feyd-Rautha makes every member of the audience fall in love with him. At the moment before the killing blow, the arena fell silent in awe of witnessing such grace, all of us smiling at the privilege. And I swear to you, as surely as I stand here now, Feyd-Rautha’s opponent smiled in his final moment - maybe the way a lump of clay or blank canvas smiles to realize they are going to be worked on, not by some ham-fisted novice, but by a true paragon of an artist.

Feyd-Rautha: Apologies, sweet uncle, but bull fighting is their tradition. They act like they’ve never seen a bull like that before. Well, to be fair… no one has seen a bull end up quite like that before.
Baron Harkonnen: *unintelligible*
Feyd: Poor taste? That was an artful transgression, I—
Baron: *unintelligible*
Feyd: I—
Baron: *unintelligible*
Feyd: Of course. Forgive my thoughtlessness. The courtship went so well. I was on my very best behavior, and Ariste was quite receptive. I thought she should see some of my hidden depths.
Baron: *unintelligible*
Feyd: She’s still smitten, despite herself. She only acts how she believes her parents want her to act. I could find her. I could—
Baron: *unintelligible*
Feyd: Yes, uncle. Does that conclude the engagement and the peace?
Baron: *unintelligible*
Feyd: I am tracking gore everywhere, aren’t I? I’ll bathe at once. Good evening.
Baron: *unintelligible*
Feyd: You there. Tell a servant to ready my bath. Also, tell them to bring my knives… and another servant. I do not suffer rejection well.