And speaking of on board, she'd moved into John's room properly. In his closet, her leathers and her muscles shirts were hanging next to his, and their shitkickers were lined up together, and all her knives and her guns and her little toys were now locked up in his fire proof cabinet. Their ammo was even stacked together. How frickin' romantic.

I love her so damned much." Manny heard himself say. “That’s my heart right there. That’s my woman”.

Well...he's back in an exam room. Should I get out a quarter?" Everybody groaned. There was only one He out of the legions of male patients they treated, and coin bingo was typically how the staff decided who had to deal with him.

That's the problem with white horses. You have to pay for them yourself or you'll always be using someone else's reins.

Well, duh. He was six feet, six inches tall and built like a brick shithouse.

My twin's not broken. He's ruined. Do you understand the difference? With broken maybe you can fix him. Ruined? All you can do is wait to bury him.

Even the powerful needed protection sometimes.