Hi, Max," she said, pushing her shades up onto her curls. "I hope your wearing sunscreen," i said, “your gonna have hella wrinkles by the time your ten.” “Want some daiquiri?” she offered, pointing at a blender. “Is it traitor flavored?” I asked.

And there I was, pretty as heck, brown eyes, a few freckles, fashion challenged, and a bad attitude. Max II.

A good love story always keeps the pot boiling.

Have you been playing in toxic waste lately?

It's so strange. Everything can be going alone just great, and then one day, whack, you're blindsided-- a lousy, crammy blow you didn't see coming.

Boy, you just can't kill people like you used to.

Walking over to Iggy, he poked him with his shoe. "Does anysing on you vork properly?" Iggy rubbed his forehead with one hand. "Well, I have a highly developed sense of irony." Ter Borcht tsked. "You are a liability to your group. I assume you alvays hold onto someone's shirt, yes? Following dem closely?" "Only when I'm trying to steal their dessert," Iggy said truthfully.