Kotaa Zun-qin: "I speak your infidel tongue. It tastes like the waste excretions of an ill vhlor on my tongue, but I can speak it. Please, ask me something so I may deny it to you."
Corran: "We infidels don't normally sample the waste excretions of ill animals, so I don't fully understand the reference. I suppose that such delicacies are reserved for the Chosen."