Apparently you don't have to observe the Rules of Etiquette when reuniting with a muderous spouse.

And then it hit me. One of those evil thoughts siblings get because, well, that's what we do. Looking over my shoulder I said, "You know, since you have some free time, maybe you could...never mind." "What?" "Well it's just that, all those calories you've been drink - I mean - not burning off have kind of settled on your gut. I didn't want to mention anything," I said as Dave's hand stole to his midsection. "But the general pointed out that you'd lost a few steps training-wise." I laughed and waved my hand. "I'm sure it's nothing switching to a light beer won't cure.

Excellent." As soon as Bergman left earshot Vayl said, "I am going to buy you some pom-poms and a short pleated skirt-" Hey, if Bergman needs a cheerleard, that's what he's getting." Vayl tipped his head to one side and smiled wickedly. "I was just thinking perhaps I need a cheerleader as well." Cassandra got up. "If that's where this conversation is headed, I'm leaving." She wants some pom-poms too," I told Vayl. I do not!

Hey, if you're going to price yourself, I say go high.

Are you suggesting we pull a little good cop, bad cop scenario on him? And You're even letting me be the bad cop?" He bowed his head. "That, my pretera, is how much I love you." "You have never been sexier than at this very moment." "It is a shame we have so much company," he agreed quietly.

That's what I'd call him if he was my dog. Jacket-humper. Kinda had a ring to it. Although it seemed a little long for vet visits and intros to lady dogs.

Still enmeshed from the knees down, Vayl flopped off the cabinet before we realized he needed a hand down, falling fast and hard like a penguin who hasn't bought the whole flightless scenario.