Much awkwardness ensued.

My foster mother always laughed and said it was his reputation for knowing everything that allowed for him to appear infallible: all he had to do was walk through the room and see who looked guiltiest when they saw him. Maybe she was right, but I tried looking innocent the next time, and it didn't work.

Yes, well," said his da with a hint of a grow that told him just how worried Bran had been about him, "that'll teach you to dodge a bit quicker next time." "Sorry," he apologized meekly as he sat in the passenger seat. "Good," said Bran, shutting the door gently. "Don't let it happen again." -Bran and Charles

Yes,” I told him. “I think the guy playing the Pirate King was awesome.” He stopped where he was. “What?” I asked, frowning at the big smile on his face. “I didn’t say I liked the Pirate King,” he told me. “Oh.” I closed my eyes—and there he was. A warm, edgy presence right on the edge of my perception. When I opened my eyes, he was standing right in front of me. “Cool,” I told him. “You’re back.” He kissed me leisurely. When he was finished, I was more than ready to head home. Fast. “You make me laugh,” he told me seriously.

There is no cash in battling evil: just the opposite in my experience

The warmth of his body shouldn’t have felt good. He was angry and every muscle was tense. It was like being leaned on by a very heavy, warm brick. A sexy brick.

I hope this means you'll quit asking me to kill you. It gives me indigestion.