Destiny was a machine built over time, each choice that you made in life adding another gear, another conveyor belt, another assemblyman. Where you ended up was the product that was spit out at the end—and there was no going back for a redo. You couldn‟t take a peek at what you‟d manufactured and decide, Oh, wait, I wanted to make sewing machines instead of machine guns; let me go back to the beginning and start again. One shot. That was all you got.

Don't make me flip you off" "Why would I deprive you of a favourite hobby?" "Because my finger's getting sore.

I think you and he need to talk. And once you do, I won’t have to worry about being jumped like a felon again.” Blay frowned. “He and I have nothing to say to each other—” “With all due respect, the ligature marks around my neck would suggest otherwise.

He didn't say anything. Didn't try any of the hugging bullshit, either, which was just as well. Instead, he placed a wooden case next to Tohr on the bed, exhaled some Turkish smoke, and went back for the exit like he couldn't wait to get out of the room. Except he stopped before he left, "I gotchu, my brother," he said to the door. "I know, V. You always have. ~Vishous and Tohrment Lover Reborn

Besides, the mhis that surrounded the compound could scramble anything from GPS to Santa Claus.

What... are you?" she choked out. "No sunlight. Funky choppers." he inhaled raggedly. "Take a guess.

Marissa, " he mumbled, taking her hand. "Don't want to see you drink so much?" Wait, not really what he'd been going for. "Ah...don't you to see me drink so much...want." Whatever. God...he was so confused.~Butch