Did you get checked out?” “Yeah, by a hot blond who sat in the corner of the bar and made googly eyes at me.” “I meant by a doctor.” “No, but a balding yet bizarrely hot paramedic said I’d be fine." “Oh, and he’s an expert?” “At flirting.

Somebody has to be sane during regular business hours, and it's not going to be me, missy.

SOME GIRLS WEAR PRADA. SOME GIRLS WEAR GLOCK 17 SHORT RECOIL SPRING-LOADED SEMIAUTOMATIC PISTOLS WITH A LOADED CHAMBER INDICATOR AND A NONSLIP GRIP. - T-SHIRT

Never knock on death's door. Ring the doorbell then run. He totally hates that. - T-shirt

I suck at all this supernatural stuff. But I fry a mean chicken. Oh, good. I hate it when the nice ones get fried.

I stood and walked around the desk so I could stand over him. Menacingly. Like Darth Vader, only with better lung capacity.

Oh, my god!” I said to Reyes, my eyes radiating accusations at him. “She took your picture? Just what kind of game are you playing? You’re under arrest, mister.” His mouth tilted and a dimple emerged on one cheek as I took his wrist and threw him against a wall. Or, well, urged him toward it. I held him against the cool wood with one hand and frisked him with the other.