The guy in the Red Sox hat came in with an astonishingly beautiful blond woman at his side. He stood close to her, and though they weren't touching, it was clear that they were a couple. They just belonged together.

Qhuinn smiled, baring his fangs. 'Has anyone ever shown you the difference between good touch and bad touch? 'Cause I'd love to demonstrate. We could start right now.

He was having an illicit affair... with his own mate.

I'll call you," Manny said. "You do that, my man. You frickin' do that." -Manny to V

I thought symphaths didn't have a conscience." "I'm half my mother's boy, too. So I have a little." "Aren't you lucky." The Reverend's chin dipped down, and his eyes flashed pure, purple evil for a split second. Then he smiled. "No… all the rest of you are fortunate.

Please, if you would," the butler said, "no throwing the linens. Peaches, anyone?" -Fritz

Too bad the freedom seemed like a prison. As his boots hit the mosaic floor at the bottom of the stairs, John Mellencamp's old-school, bic-lighter anthem echoed in his head-and though he'd always like the song okay, he'd never truly understood what it meant. Kind of wished that were still the case. Life goes on...long after the thrill of living is gone.