Bring it, Darth Bathrobe!

All right, you primitive screwheads. Listen up. I'm Harry Dresden. I'm the new Winter Knight.

Molly was committing dinner by that time, aided and abetted by Sanya, who seemed to take some kind of grim Russian delight in watching train wrecks in progress.

There is hinkiness afoot with regard to my, ah, disposition.

You're a cop. I need a doughnut.

Heroism doesn't pay very well. I try to be cold-blooded and money-oriented, but I keep screwing it up.

Hospital waits are bad ones. The fact that they happen to pretty much all of us, sooner or later, doesn't make them any less hideous.