- [Jack has been possessed by a Will o' the Wisp]
- Bricriu: The problem with you mortals in the limited lifespan. Rush, rush, rush, rush, rush. Less than a century to get things done. No time for laughter. Ha! No time to sit back and enjoy life. I weep for ye, I do.
- Fi: Give me my brother back, please.
- Bricriu: Oh, dear girl, all you need do to be rid of me is to say in a loud, clear voice "Be gone from this mortal form."
- Fi: Be gone from this mortal form.
- Bricriu: Hmm... try it louder.
- Fi: [shouting] Be gone from this mortal form!
- Bricriu: Come now, girl, give it some oomph!
- Fi: [shouting] Be gone from this mortal form!
- Bricriu: [laughs] I'm sorry, I forgot one small detail. It doesn't work unless you invoke my one true name.
- Fi: What is it?
- Bricriu: Ah, therein you see lies the sweet spunkie's game. I'll give you a go at guessing my name. Though measured in seven, no more and no less, choose well, me lass, for you've only one guess. You have until I've finished absorbing Jack's memory.
- Fi: How am I supposed to guess your name? It could be anything.
- Bricriu: A hint: it's not Rumpelstiltskin.
- Bricriu: So, what's on your mind, "sis"?
- Fi: I want to make another deal.
- Bricriu: Oh, please...
- Fi: No, I'm serious. I've been checking up on fairy tales. In "Rumpelstiltskin", the girl gets unlimited guesses. I want the same courtesy.
- Bricriu: Unlimited guesses... and in return, I would get - ?
- Fi: You understand Jack now. But you don't understand the mortal world. If I lose, I'll be your guide. You'll be president; heck, I'll be your Secretary of State.
- Bricriu: Hmm, you wicked, wicked girl. I misread you, little duck. Well, I do want to get back, so I'll give you all the guesses you can make in an hour.
- Fi: An hour?
- Bricriu: Best I can do.
- [Fi sets up her laptop where a screen with seven letters is waiting]
- Bricriu: What is that?
- Fi: It's a program Jack made so he'd never lose at Hangman.
- Bricriu: What's it doing?
- Fi: It's cycling through every one of the eight billion seven-letter combinations. Those will be my guesses and, by the way, I won't need the whole hour.
- Bricriu: [nervous] This is cheating! You're not guessing out loud. You're using a *machine* to help you. I don't have to stand here and watch this.
- [he tries to walk away, but he cannot]
- Fi: By the rules of Celtic magic, you do! You are obligated to stand here and wait 'til I'm done with my guesses.
- Bricriu: You don't know what you're dealing with, girl. You need me. You're puny brother can't protect you the way that I can.
- Fi: Yeah, protect me from what?
- Bricriu: Do you really think I chose your brother by accident? Out of all the bodies in the world? They know about you. They know what you're up to.
- Fi: They?
- Bricriu: Those in the spirit world. They've been watching you sniff around, following the lay lines like a little bloodhound. They want you stopped and believe me, I'm a saint compared with that lot. Talk about no sense of humor.