The Bagshaws aren't boys. They're bombs with very colorful fuses.

You don't have to do this, Kat." "I've been hearing that a lot lately." "He's right." "I didn't say who had said it," she countered. "You didn't have to." He looked out at the water. "You two are good together." "We're not together," Kat said automatically. "Sure you are. You just don't know it yet.

And I remembered with a pang what had happened to me the previous summer - that even Gallagher Girls aren't always as strong as they need to be.

Gabrielle, Hale?" Kat smacked his shoulder. "It wasn't bad enough that you got me kicked out of school, but you had to use her to help you? Gabrielle!" "I can hear you," her cousin sang beside her. Hale looked at Gabrielle and gestured at Kat. "She's adorable when she's jealous." Kat kicked his shin.

Of course. Because at the Gallagher Academy, "precautions" usually equals "voluntary shock therapy.

Abby must have been the one who found the safe house, because Townsend didn't like it. "The building across the street is under construction," he snarled as soon as we'd carried our bags inside. "The elevator has key card access, and I've hacked into the surveillance cameras from every system on the block," Abby argued. "We have a three-hundred-sixty-degree visual." "Excellent." Townsend dropped his bag. "Now the circle can see us from every angle." "Don't mind Agent Townsend, girls," Abby told us. "He's a glass-half-empty kind of spy." "Also known as the good kind," he countered. Abby huffed.

Insane means fewer cameras!