Maybe I should, I don't know leave? Because this is starting to sound like one of those reality shows I don't want to be in. Maybe you guys want to take turns in the confessional booth.

Here. Have a Coke. That’s good for a sore throat, right?” “Good for everything,” Shane croaked, and took the extended cold can with good grace. “Thanks.” “You owe me a dollar,” Eve said. “I’ll add it to the five thousand you already owe me, though.” He blew her a kiss, and she stuck her tongue out at him, and that was the end of the subject, thankfully.

Hey, Mikey? You get her hurt and I'll end you." "You let anything happen to Eve and I'll do the same," Michael said. He'd just finished kissing Eve, too. "While you're at it, don't get yourself killed, either, bro." "Ditto. And don't kiss me.

You're kidding. I thought all geniuses read Latin. Isn't that the international language for smart people?"-Shane (Glass Houses)

Don’t,” Michael said. It was soft, and it was a warning, through and through. “You try to hurt her again and I’ll pull your arm off.

She didn't know what Liam made his coffee with, but it had to be magical sparkles and crack beans, because it was the most delicious stuff she'd ever tasted.

You'd be surprised what people will do for money that they wouldn't do for love. Myrnin.