Hey, Macey, sorry to drop in but Cammie just had to be alone with me. You know how she gets.

But in the end she merely shrugged, knowing at the very least it would be interesting. Knowing, in her gut, it might just be the beginning.

Thanks to you, Gabs, we just figured out a half dozen ways not to rob the Henley.

They were both totally laughing, and he was twirling her, and her hair was flying around like she was in a shampoo commercial. Seriously. She could have sold conditioner to a bald man the way she looked out there.

I know in the spy movies it always looks really cool when the operative goes from a maid's uniform to a slinky, sexy, ballgown in the amount of time it takes an elevator to climb three floors. Well, I don't know how it is for TV spies, but I can tell you that even with Velcro, the art of the quick change is one that must take a lot of practice (not to mention better lighting than one is likely to find in a tunnel that was once part of the underground railroad).

Do you want to hold it?' she asked, dangling the padded envelope in front of Hale with two fingers. 'No.' 'Do you want to touch it and kiss it and wear it around your neck?' 'Don't be silly,' he told her. 'Everyone knows green isn't my color.

It's not Cam's fault," Bex told her. "We rigged her bed so that if she gets up, I get an electric shock." "Liz designed it," Macey said, and Bex shrugged "We told you we were taking precautions." Of course. Because at Gallagher Academy, "precautions" usually equals "voluntary shock therapy".