All those 'bloodys' was a veritable cornucopia of emotion for Barrons.
He was sexual in a way that made women think of deeply repressed fantasies therapists and feminists alike would cringe to hear tell of.
He had a come-and-get-me-baby-I'm-pure-trouble-and-you're-gonna-love-it kind of attitude.
Holy water at my wrists and behind my ears; my version of Eau de Don'tbiteme
I flash him number seventeen of my thirty-five Looks of Death.
You're Mac, and I'm Jericho. And nothing else matters.