You know, you sound like birds when you do that chuckle thing. It's nice. Over to the left, Vishous put his head in his hands.

Butch didn't live in his own place. He didn't spend his own money. He had no job, no future. He was a well-kept pet, not a man.

Hey, what are you doing, little one? You want more? You are just too much . . . you . . . oh, no . . . not the quivering lip . . . oh, no.” Nalla let out a giggle. “Outrageous! You want more, and you know you’re going to get what you want because of The Lip. Jeez, you’ve got your father wrapped around your little finger, don’t you.

You're a good Irishman, right?" When Butch nodded, V said, "Irish, Irish… let me think. Yeah…" Vishous's eyes sobered, and in a voice that cracked, he said, "May the road rise to meet you. May the wind always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rains fall soft upon your fields. And… my dearest friend… until we meet again may the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand.

I would do anything for you. Anything." With that, he pushed his way out...and as the door eased shut, she realized that I love you could indeed be said without actually uttering the phrase. Actions did mean more than words.

You are in a prison with no bars. I worry about you.

Can we screw the 'sorry' part and let me hit you back instead?" Vishous to Butch