Bouncing in hoppy little circles like a demented Goth bunny.

Shane? Thank God, somebody sane. Well, sane-ish.

claire:Now shane was talking sense?Wow was it opposite day?

I love arguing with you, Claire. You always surprise me. And occasionally, you even make sense.

Is it him?” Dad asked. “Did he get you into trouble?” “Not me,” Shane said. “I’ve just got that kind of face.

Eve hugged her, hard. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “What happened to the old frosting?” Shane, sitting at the table, raised his hand. “Took one for the team.” “Jesus, you ate it? All of it?” “Nah.” He held up the bowl that was sitting in front of him. There was still about half a cup left. “Couldn’t finish it all.” Eve blinked and looked at Claire, who shrugged and said, “I always thought he was sweet.

And before you ask, no, you're not driving, Myrnin. I remember the last time." "That accident was not my fault." "You were the only one on the road, and the mailbox actually didn't leap out in front of you. No arguments. You sit in the back, too.