Ever hear of a telephone, asshole?

Nefarious. This is what we get when we hire a Yale boy.” “You missed sacrosanct earlier. And taciturn and glowering,” Jack said. “What’s glowering?” “Me, apparently.” Wilkins pointed. “Now that has to be a joke.” He turned to Davis. “You heard that, right?” Davis didn’t answer him, having spun his chair around to type something at his computer. “Let’s see what Google says… Ah – here it is. ‘Glowering: dark; showing a brooding ill humor.

If we go now, there's no coming back. You're mine all night." Her eyes flashed. "Promise?" That was it. Jack grabbed her hand and pulled her off the dance floor, toward the main entrance of the tent.

Time for Wine Tasting 101. “So here’s how this works. When tasting a wine, as opposed to casual drinking, there are four basic steps you need to remember: sight, smell, taste, then spit or swallow.” Nick paused at that last part and cocked his head. “And your personal preference on the latter would be…?” “Only lightweights spit.” His right eye twitched.

Ever hear of a telephone, asshole?

You are really starting to annoy me, Stanton.” Nick didn’t blink. “Good. By the end of the night I hope to finish the job.

Boyfriend huh? I didn't realize we had taken things to that level." "Oh, I'm sorry--this is my first undercover operation," Jordan said. "I'm a little unclear about the rules. Are we seeing other people in this fake relationship?