Bye-bye, Elan. P.S., Next time you implicate someone falsely, try to pick a pacifist.

Time to the face the music.

His thumb went back and forth over the satin, as if he were rubbing her hip as he had when they'd been together, and he moved his leg over so that it was on top of the skirting. It wasn't the same, though. There was no body underneath, and the fabric smelled like lemons, not her skin. And he was, after all, alone in this room that was not theirs. "God, I miss you," he said in a voice that cracked. "Every night. Every day.

You've got nothing to worry about. The righteous do not always right, but their souls remain pure. -Lassiter the Angel

You're the reason I get out of bed every night. And you're the reason I can't wait to come home every dawn. Not the war. Not the Brothers. Not even Butch. It's...you.

The warrior (Zsadist) rolled his black eyes. "Come on, man. What does it matter to me? You, Tohr. Britney Spears.

I can't... I find that I can't concentrate. On anything. I can't really..." Rhage's eyes drifted to Zsadist. "How do you live with it? All the anger. The pain. The...