There was something very comforting about him, and I was not sure if it was his easy manner or his complete immunity to my scowling.

What did you write on here? ‘Don’t die’?” “No, I wrote, ‘Don’t be an asshole!’”I headed for the house. “On yours or mine?” “On yours.” “Well, in that case, your magic isn’t working. I’m still an asshole.

Behind him Kaldar nudged Urow's youngest son. "Bet you he lasts at least thirty seconds." "Um..." Gaston looked at him. "No he won't." "Bet me something." "I don't have anything." Kaldar grimaced. "Pick up that rock." Gaston swiped the rock off the ground. "Now you have a rock. I bet this five bucks against your rock." Gaston grinned. "Deal.

The decorator of Las Colimas must have been a great admirer of both early Aztec and late Taco Bell architectural styles.

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

Keeping you safe keeps me in shape.

A girl half my age swept by and slammed two giant tankard filled with beer on the table. Ragnvald held his up. I smashed my tankard against his. Beer splashed. We raised the tankard and pretended to take much bigger gulps than we did.