shane: so is world war fifteen over out there? claire:i think so

Unless you want to hang a This Vein for Rent sign around your neck, move already!

Me and normal have never really been on speaking terms.

You're kidding," Shane said. "Do you think I want to visit Crazy McTeeth in his lair of insanity?" "No," Claire said, "but I'm pretty sure you won't like it if I go alone when I just kind of promised to be with you. So...?" "Right. I've been missing Nutty McFang anyway." "Stop making up names for him." "What about Count Crackula?" "Just stop.

He (Michael) was gone in a whisper of air, hardly making any sound at all, and Claire shivered and leaned against Shane’s solid, very human warmth. His arms went around her, and he touched his lips lightly to the back of her neck. “How can you smell this good after the kind of crappy day we’ve had?” “I sweat perfume. Like all girls.

Keys," she repeated, and slowly stepped back. "What do you mean, keys?" "Car keys. As in, give them up. Now." Shane had that look -- hard, and no bullshit. "We don't have time for your drama, Monica. Nobody does.

Did that remind anybody else of something?" "Yes," Eve said, tapping her lower lip with a bloodred fingernail. "How much I need to shave her head while she's sleeping.