I don't do farm animals. Can't stand hay in your leathers? Or wool in my teeth.

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.

End of the day, the quick and the dead are the same. Everyone's just looking for home.

I do not crave this" But he needed it before he became a danger to himself and others.

After a moment the king said, "So be it." Zsadist cursed. Butch whistled low. Rhage bit into a Tootsie Pop.

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.

Man, some open doors were not welcoming, and that was so the case here—less hi-how’re-ya, more come-in-so-your-skin-can-be-used-to-make-a-super-hero-cape-for-one-of-Hannibal-Lecter’s-patients.