Shane, honey, in Morganville, friends are the only things that keep you alive.

Are you armed?" Oliver asked her. She glanced down at her backpack and instantly, instinctively held back. "No." "Lie to me again and I'll put you out on the street and do this myself." Claire swallowed. "Uh, yeah." "With what?" "Silver-coated stakes, wooden stakes, a crossbow, about ten bolts . . . oh, and a squirt gun with some silver-nitrate solution." He smiled grimly at the dark windshield. "What, no grenade launchers?" "Would they work?" "I choose not to comment.

Shane settled his flamethrower more comfortably on his shoulders. “Ladies? After you.” “Rude,” Claire said. “I was being polite!” “Not when you have a flamethrower.

I'd blurted out the question only to keep him from noticing that I was working my hands free, but the Warden behind me, some young brown-haired surfer dude, yelled a warning. "She's getting loose!" Narc.

Home," he repeated. "Home is where the heart is. Why don't you leave yours here? I'll take very good care of it.

Why did you destroy Manny's office, then?" "I--can't breathe--" "That is the point of choking you," I pointed out. "Haste, please, if you want to live." -Cassiel

Morely: You're trying to make me [i]Amelie[/i] Oliver: Goodness, no. You'd look terrible in a skirt