Etiquette? What kind of etiquette was there in someone trying to murder me?

Kiss me or let me go. I don’t care anymore.

It was better to know what people were really like than put your trust in someone who just wanted to hurt you in the end.

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.

The two men stared at each other. Assumptions were made, judgments rendered, dicks measured.

I eat haughty, arrogant, manipulative, self-important bitches like you for breakfast, sugar. And then I go back for seconds.

He realized something was going on between Logan and me. I wish he'd clue me in on exactly what it was, because I had no idea.