You're just jealous." "Hardly. Been there, done you. Adequate, but unremarkable.

I might be an assassin, but never let it be said I wasn't as gracious a hostess as the next gal.

What did you expect? That he'd send you flowers and write you bad poetry? That dead Nemean prowler is pretty much as close to a stuffed animal as you're ever going to get from a Spartan like Logan Quinn.

Oh, Finn isn’t an assassin,” I cut in. “He’s much, much worse. He’s a banker.

Don't you agree, fuzzball?

I didn't know what would take my mind off the sexy Spartan, except for maybe a total lobotomy.

Well, what did you have for lunch?” I snapped. “Surely that’s not top secret superhero information.” “Steak with mashed potatoes and a side salad,” Striker replied. “And a piece of chocolate cheesecake for dessert.” I gave up on conversation after that. I was too jealous of the cheesecake to continue.