He looked glad to be on his way and made a beeline for the exit. Just as he was out the door, however, he stuck his head back in. “I don’t mind foreigners. God save the queen!” he squeaked, and ran. Bones arched a brow. I sighed. “Didn’t hear that part? Never mind. Don’t ask.

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

She's my kitten, and no one else's.

Usually my form of turning someone down was shoving a stake through his heart while smirking, Gotcha!

Oh, I have feelings for him, all right. I'd like to put him in the ground myself, believe me. Still, it would be wrong. Promise me." "Fine. I promise I won't kill him." He said it too easily. My eyes narrowed. "Promise me right here and now that you will also never cripple, maim, dismember, blind, torture, bleed, or otherwise inflict any injury to Danny Milton. Or otherwise stand by while someone else does as you watch." "Blimey, that's not fair!" he protested

Are you having performance issues?” I asked in surprise. “Bite your tongue,” Vlad said, with a snort. “I was seeing if Dermot understood sign language, but from the look on his face, it seems not.

Hearing that I'd come so close to dying should've terrified me, but all I could muster up was a weary "This day sucks.