In diplomacy, like in great many other things, the rules of engagement survive only until one remarkable person decides to break them.

Settle down, Princess. It’s not my first time.

What’s the deal with the hair?” Curran tore his gaze from the book and grimaced. “Grows every flare. Can’t help it." We stared at each other. “Waiting for the Fabio joke,” he said.

It could be worse," he said finally. "Efrenia married an arsonist. Jake's wife is a kleptomaniac. I suppose, a psychopathic spree killer isn't that odd of a choice, considering.

People around me die. They drop like flies. I've gone through life leaving a trail of dead bodies behind me. My mother is dead, my guardian is dead, my aunt is dead—because I killed her, and when my real father finds me, he'll move heaven and earth to make me dead.

You say the sweetest things. And that spaghetti perfume you're wearing is to die for. No hobo could resist." She snarled. Heh.

No, he just needs a moment," Curran said. "Young bouda males. Easily excitable.