You've got to try this," I told Bones, handing him the glass. "It's like Cristal and O-Negative had a love child.

There is only one way to fight, and that's dirty. Clean gentlemanly fighting will get you nowhere but dead, and fast. Take every cheap shot, every low blow, absolutely kick people when they're down, and maybe you'll be the one who walks away." Bones to Cat

I say, look at the melons on that lass,” Ian exclaimed, his gaze now on the TV. “And hung like a stallion, he is.” “Focus, mate,” Spade muttered.

Kitten, you still haven’t told her? Blimey, what are you waiting for?” “The Second Coming of Christ!” I snapped.

Mencheres slid through the water toward her, drawn by the same inexorable compulsion that led moths to dance with flames. He'd had several lifetimes' worth of reason, cold machinations, and, ultimately, emptiness. Perhaps the moths knew what he didn't, that the joy of the flame was worth the price of destruction.

Kitten, your hands are heaven and your eyes are my home.

Since you and Crispin are now finished and I have a few hours to kill, how about that shag?” he asked with heavy irony. “Bite me,” I sighed, gathering up the pages. He winked. “Of course. My second-favorite thing to do in bed.