Work Text:
"How do I love thee?" quoth Qualitative, "Let me count the ways."
Quantitative smiled. "Now, that's what I like to hear. Go on."
"I love thee to the depth and breadth and height / My soul can reach," Qualitative continued, when Quantitative interrupted.
"Wait, how deep is that? How high? How broad? In metric or Imperial measures?" it demanded.
Glowering, Qualitative continued, "When feeling out of sight / For the ends of being and ideal grace."
"Where do they end?" asked Quantitative. "How do you determine whether the ideal is truly optimized?"
Qualitative plowed doggedly on, gritting its teeth, "I love thee to the level of every day's / Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light."
"This is SHITE!" yelled Quantitative, totally fed up. "WHAT level? HOW quiet? Are you controlling for variation in light source, or just assuming? I don't want to hear this, I want hard facts!"
"Hard facts?!?!" screamed Qualitative, "Hard facts? FUCK hard facts! There's no such thing!"
"Fuck hard facts? You wanna fuck hard facts?" Quantitative leered, stroking the leptokurtic bulge in its trousers. "I'm going to shove my hard facts so far up your soft assertions that even you won't be able to deny my conclusions, you loose little slut."
And Quantitative bent Qualitative over the table and proceeded to do just that.