They're fanatics. It's like expecting humanity from a falling rock. It's not going to have a fit of compassion and not crack your skull open.

In there?' She nodded. 'You want us to go into the tortoise?' Another nod. 'It's alive.' Another nod.

Help me, I can’t breathe, your ego is pushing all the air out of the room.

He strained to say something else. I leaned toward him. He focused on me. “Rape,” he promised. “Many, many times. Until you bleed . . .” “I’m so flattered.

And then what?" "I'll burn that bridge when I cross it.

So. You refuse my money, you serve me thirty-year-old Highland Park scotch, and we've been in the same room for approximately five minutes, yet none of my bones are broken. This leads me to believe that your back is against the wall and you desperately need me for something. I'm dying to know what that is.

« Are you hungry, baby?” Curran asked. “Starving.” “I think we should go to dinner.” “Great idea.” “What are you going to wear?” “My badass face.” “Good choice,” he said. »