So far Kat has been through all the Wa's she could think of, but Hale hadn't admitted to being Walter or Ward or Washington. He'd firmly denied both Warren and Waverly. Watson had prompted him to do a very bad Sherlock Holmes impersonation throughout a good portion of a train ride to Edinburgh, Scotland. And Wayne seemed so wrong she hadn't even tried. Hale was Hale. And not knowing what the W's stood for had become a constant reminder to Kat that, in life, there are some things that can be given but never stolen. Of course, that didn't stop her from trying.

Nick sat beside Simon, who was at his computer. Marcus stood at attention beside the food. Hale had his feet on the table, reading the morning paper. And someone had given the Bagshaws a gun. 'Pull!' Hamish yelled, and Angus pulled a cord and sent a skeet flying across the deep blue water. A split second later, a loud crack was reverberating across the deck. Kat jumped. Hale sighed. The shot went far wide, and Marcus never moved a muscle.

Go to bed, Cammie,” my aunt ordered, sounding exactly like my mother. “No,” I said, sounding exactly like my aunt.

"No," Preston snapped. But he didn't protest long because, if I'm going to be honest - which is kind of the point of these reports - I was already unzipping his pants.

The Subject has really blue eyes that twinkle when he looks at someone like she's maybe a little bit insane.

real strength is not hitting when what you most want to do is kill.

He looked as though I'd just run over his pet puppy (though no actual puppies were harmed in the formation of that metaphor).