And as always seems to happen when I have reached the point where I am ready to take decisive action, everything began to happen at once.

For my part, my interest in Paris had faded away completely long ago when I learned that it was in France.

...my conscience has the same hard reality as a unicorn.

I don't do my job to catch the bad guys. Why would I want to do that? No, I do my job to make order out of chaos.

And then more quiet, silence so deep it almost drowned out the roar of the night music that pounded away in my secret self.

It's always me, isn't it? I'm not really a very nice person, but for some reason it's always me that they come to with their problems.

I mean, really: what kind of person could possibly dislike me?