Cerise ran through the course in her mind. “Three miles, stream on the right, Mozer Lake, Tinybear, Bigbear, Miller’s Path.” She paused, not sure if she’d said it correctly. “Three miles, stream on the right, Mozer Lake, Tinybear, Bigbear, Miller’s Path.” “Thank you, Dora. Put the sword back into Backpack and we’ll go.” He nodded at the river. “Who is Dora?” “You are. Dora the Explorer. Vamanos. Put the sword away or I will take it from you.

On the other hand it was bad manners to look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if you're getting it from an overweight cracker in a fringe shirt.

You slept with Curran and you didn’t tell me? I’m your best friend.” “It didn’t come up.” “How disappointing for you.” Ha-ha. “That’s not what I meant.

I lied. I need your help." "Who are we killing?" "Do you have a pen?

I can make some calls. There is a guy. Dagfinn Heyerdahl. He used to be with Norse Heritage Foundation." Norse Heritage Foundation wasn't so much about heritage as it was about viking, in the most cliché sense of the world. They drank huge quantities of beer, they brawled, and they wore horned helmets despite all historical evidence to the contrary. "Used to be?" Curran asked. "They kicked him out for being drunk and violent." Curran blinked. "The Norse Heritage?" "Mhm." "Don't you have to be drunk and violent just to get in?" he asked. "Just how disorderly did he get?

We have to get the Diamond. And Cesare’s head.” They looked at me. “Why the head?” Doolittle asked. “Because it’s easy to carry and I can torture it for a long time.” And I didn’t just say it out loud, did I? I checked their faces. Yep, I did.

Big bad merc, down with a basic hip toss. In your place I'd be blushing.