I'm counting to ten in my head." "Is it helping?" "No." "It doesn't help me with you either. I used to life weights to alleviate frustration, but someone blowtorched my weight bench. How did you do it, by the way?" "I could tell you but then I'd have to kill you.

I know it may come as a shock, but it's sort of considered polite to wait for the consent of the woman. In fact, I'm pretty sure that if you don't wait, you may have to deal with pesky criminal charges like kidnapping and rape.

You fellows ever thought of hiring out as a Christmas lights crew? You’d make a fortune.

I can't give you the white picket fence, and if I did, you'd set it on fire.

Bran grabbed my hand,pulled me to a chest, and swung the heavy lid open. A white cloth covered the contents. He jerked it aside. Human heads filled the chest. "Oh God." He scooped a mummified head from the chest by a scalp lock and thrust it at me. "All of them are mine." This was officially the weirdest version of "come down to my place and I'll show you some etchings" I've ever been hit with.

Oh, I don't know. I might grow on you." She furrowed her pretty eyebrows. "Like a cancer?" "Like a favorite vice.

Jealous of the actors now, are we?" "What, of some fancy boy on the screen? Inconceivable." Oh, this was going to be good.