To be denied was like getting shut out of a Public Park.

In an earlier life, were you a pair of brakes?" "Try a brick wall.

The human reached inside Wrath’s jacket and started pulling out weapons. Three throwing stars, a switchblade, a handgun, a length of chain. “Jesus Christ,” the cop muttered as he dropped the steel links on the ground with the rest of the load. “You got some ID? Or wasn’t there enough room in here for a wallet, considering you’re carrying about thirty pounds of concealed weapons?

Strong relationships are not rocked by a truth that is grounded by resolute monogamy.

In the center was a tiny handprint in red paint.

It...is for me?" "Aye. So what say you, lover mine.

A hand landed on his shoulder like an anvil. “How’d you like to stay for dinner?” Butch looked up. The guy was wearing a baseball cap and had some kind of marking—was that a tattoo, on his face? “How’d you like to be dinner?” said another one, who looked like some kind of model.