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.

Don't play his game. Play yours.

He hung up on her. She'd just been hung up on by a disembodied brain in a jar. Fantastic.

I'm worried he's going to ... do something crazy." "He lives in a hole in the ground, dresses funny, and occasionally eats his assistants," Eve said. "Define crazy.

I've bowed to you for too long, and if I continue to do it, we will all suffer.

You're dead," I repeated. "So why are you in my dream?" He raised the bill of his olive drab ball cap with one finger. " Good question. Morbid, isn't it?" "What?" "Dreaming about dead peolpe. Creepy. You ever see a therapist about that?" "I'm not -" Even in dreams, I couldn't win an argument. Even when he was dead.

Perv." He pointed to himself. "Male and eighteen. What's your point?