He scowled at me."You aren't any fun." "Party pooper extraordinaire,that's me.

I could have melted ice, my smile was so bright.

Wake up,' a voice like water rippling over rocks whispered in my ear.

I can’t see through clothes or anything. Just glamour skin. Except I can see through all of you, since your clothes aren’t real.” I stopped, horrified. “I mean, I don’t look—It’s hard to see you, and I like looking at your real face, but I don’t try to see anything, because—Oh gosh, this sounds terrible.” He had a funny look on his face, like he wasn’t sure what to think. “Huh. That’s never been an issue before. Maybe next time you could bring me some shorts.

-'I don't see what good it's going to do for you to waltz back in there and--' -'Can I tango back in there, instead? So much sexier than the waltz.

So who do you want to be?” I smiled, resting my head against his chest. “I’m not sure yet, but I’m looking forward to finding out.

Fun-run" indeed,what a misnomer. That'd be like saying "calm gremlin" or "pleasant hag." Or 'entertaining history textbook.