It is this kindness of his that unsettles me most. I can dodge a blow or block a knife. I am impervious to poison and know a dozen ways to escape a chokehold or garrote wire. But kindness? I do not know how to defend against that.

... then he offers me his arm. As I take it, I wonder what folly decreed that women cannot walk unassisted.

For all that I have kissed before, I have never felt anything like this. It is as if I have swallowed a tiny piece of the sun, its warmth and light reaching into every corner of my soul and chasing away the shadows. I surrender to that kiss - surrender to the strength and the courage and the sheer goodness of the man.

Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours, until Death do us part. Whatever that may mean when consorting with one of Death’s handmaidens.

However, there are those who deserve to die but who have not yet encountered the means to do so—we help them on their way.

When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.

I never skulk, and lurk only sometimes.