Surely it wasn't possible that Vin diPietro was the first assignment. "Hello?" DiPietro waved. "You in there?" Nah, Jim thought. Can't be. That would be above and beyond any call of duty. Over the guy's shoulder, the commercial that was on the TV suddenly showed a price of $49.99-no, $29.99, with a little red arrow that ... considering where Vin was standing, poined right at his head. "Sh*t, no" Jim muttered. This was the guy? On the Tv screen, some woman in a pink bathrobe smiled up at the camera and mouthed, Yes, it is!

Oh my God..." Xhex's heart stopped as she looked at him in the mirror. Across his upper back, in a glorious spread of black ink...in a declaration that didn't whisper but shouted...in a billboard-size front with flourishes... Her name in the Old Language.

You are perfect the way you are." Blay's voice was strong. "There is nothing wrong with who and what you have always been. I'm proud of you. And I love you. Now ... and always." Qhuinn's vision got wavy. Hard-core. "I'm proud of you. And I love you," Blay repeated. "Always. Forget about your old family ... you have me now. I am your family.

He screamed for all he had lost...screamed for the half male he was...screamed for Jane...screamed for who his parents were and what he wished for his sister...screamed for what he had forced his best friend to do...He screamed, and screamed until there was no breath, no consciousness, no nothing. No past or present. Not even himself anymore. And in the midst of the chaos, in the strangest way, he became free.

You asked me to speak. If this is a problem, the solution is not to get defensive because you don't like what you hear. The answer is to not invite me to talk." iAm ~ Lover At Last

Phury lit a blunt and eyed the sixteen cans of Aqua Net that were lined up on Butch and V's coffee table. "What's doing with the hair spray? You boys going drag on us?" Butch held up the lenght of PVC pipe he was punching a hole in. "Potato launcher, my man. Big fun." "Excuse me ?" "Didn't you ever go to summer camp ?" "Basket weaving and woodcarving are for humans. No offense, but we have better things to teach our youngs.

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.