Do you have a sleeping bag?” I stared at him. “No. I lost it in the great salt-dip of ’06.

Adjustment? She called that an adjustment? How about I adjust her right out of existence?

A slow smile curved over my face, and I leaned down over him. "No," I said. "Wishes are lies. Tell me you're going to leave. Tell me you're not going to stay. Tell me that it's only for a while so I can enjoy today," I whispered in his ear, as if saying it louder would break me. "And when you go, don't think me cold when I don't cry. I can't cry anymore, Pierce. It hurts too much.

He just wanted to hold her to him and tell her it would be okay, that she had survived and was beautiful.

But I knew Nick. He was too ugly to die.

But he's Rachel Candy!" -Both Jenks and Al

This is about Ku’Sox, isn’t it,” I said, more of a statement than a question. He made a sighing groan, and I knew it was. “Then you’ve met,” he said, his thoughts clearly on the day-walking demon. “Funny, you don’t look dead.” His hand touched my chin, shifting it so he could see where I’d been pixed, the blisters itchy and red. “I’m surprised you survived the little designer dump. I nearly didn’t.