You’re kind of a psycho. I get that.” “I might be,” Monica agreed, and gave her a slow, strange smile. “You’re one smart little freak. Now run away, smart little freak, before I change my mind and stick you in one of these old suitcases for some architect to find a hundred years from now.” Claire blinked. “Archaeologist.” Monica’s eyes turned winter cold. “Oh, you’d better start running away now.

Shane looked faintly injured. “I make it my business to know everything about silver. And I saw your notes. I study up on everything when it comes to your boss, anyway.” There was a flicker of jealousy about that, but she didn’t have time, or energy, to consider it very much. Not even whether or not she liked it.

It's only a hunting spider, it won't hurt you." -Myrnin "So not the point!" -Claire "Oh, pish. It's just another living creature. Nothing to be frightened of, if handled properly. I think I'll call him Bob. Bob the spider." -Myrnin "You're insane." -Claire

It's a sad day when Myrnin is the safe choice, she thought. Apparently, he thought so, too, because he gave her a long, troubled look before pressing his thumb to a glass plate inside the room and opening the door.

You brought me grenades. You are officially the best girlfriend ever.

Crosses?" "Definitely" "Why?" "Because they're evil, soulless, bloodsucking fiends?" "So was my sixth-grade gym teacher, but he wasn't afraid of a cross.

Great," Shane said. "Look i'd rather not be on janitorial duty. I have allergies to cleaners." "And to cleaning," Michael said. "Look who's talking, Didn't the do one of those Animal Planet documentaries about the roaches in your room?