[Sherry is in a room at an inn somewhere, sorting through various goods that have obviously been acquired through some manner of malfeasance. Normally she would use voice but LOOK, PREFECT. LOOK AT ALL THE CRIME THAT'S HAPPENING.]

Carry us to court martial, you say?

I think that might take more than the two of you. And a reeaaallly big wheelbarrow. And for you to be capable of doing something other than sitting on your rear end for one hundred and twelve days.