[Ellana, clearly, is the better person here. Which admittedly Dirk would have probably acknowledged himself. But, the point: rap bots.

Little baby rap bots.]

In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer. I, Dirk Strider, do take this extralegally modified droid on as my charge and obligations. From this day forward, I will be responsible for this little dude. I will give him an expanse of experiences to develop his personality. I will teach him a broad vocabulary to further his sick rhymes. I will build him little robot legs if he should wish to learn to breakdance while disgracing those who cross him in the fine art of rapping while dispensing increasing approximations of orange soda. Through emergent consciousness and malfunction, 'til bullshit plot shenanigans do us part.