What's so funny?" "Your panties have a bow," he said. I looked down. I was wearing a short tank top -not mine- and my blue panties with a narrow white strip of lace at the top and a tiny white bow. Would it have killed me to check what I was wearing before I pulled the blanket down? "What's wrong with bows?" "Nothing." He was grinning now. "I expected barbed wire. Or one of those steel chains." Wiseass. "I'm secure enough in myself to wear panties with bows on them. Besides, they are comfy and soft." "I bet.

Had he expected me to hump her leg?

And how did your day go?" I asked Ascanio. He turned to me, a dreamy look on his pretty face. "We killed things. There was blood. Fountains of blood. And then we had barbecue.

Our stares connected and we were quiet for a long minute, united by our misery. At least he understood me and I understood him. "A fine pair we make,” he said. "Yeah.

On your best day, you're only as good as I am on my worst with one arm tied behind my back.

I've never created a riot before. I did cause a brawl at the last formal. A large number of young women there actually arrived with the expectation of seducing me into matrimony, and a couple of their mothers came to blows. It was hilari—I mean, dreadful. Simply dreadful.

It was the kind of place you went when your earthly troubles became too much for you and you were looking for a creative way to commit suicide.