Glad it was you and not me," Shane said, and offered Myrin a hand up. "Any brain damage?" "Since the bullet actually passed through his brain, then yes, idiot boy, there's certainly brain damage," Oliver said. "It will pass. His brain's the least fragile thing about him." "You say the nicest things," Myrin said. He was slurring his words, and he threw an arm around Oliver's neck. "Marry me.

Claire. Wake up.” She blinked and realized that her head was on Shane’s shoulder, and Michael was nowhere to be seen. Her first thought was, Oh my God, am I drooling? Her second was that she hadn’t realized she was so close to him, snuggled in. Her third was that although Michael’s part of the couch was empty, Shane hadn’t moved away. And he was watching her with warm, friendly eyes. Oh. Oh, wow, that was nice.

Oh -- who's the Queen?" "Her, of course. The White Queen. You're just like Alice, you know. Down the rabbit hole with the Mad Hatter.

Where's your sense of adventure?" "Off on a beach somewhere with your sanity?

His gaze brushed over her, abstract and hungry. "You burn so very brightly, you know" "Yeah," she muttered. "You said.

See?" she heard Shane yell at the kitchen. "She doesn't stomp around like a cattle stampede!" "Bite me, Collins! No bacon for you, either!

How can you smell this good after the kind of crappy day we've had?" "I sweat perfume. Like all girls.