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

It made her eyes fill up with tears, and she for a few more minutes starting it over, replaying it, watching his lips say the words: "We can be lonely together.

Happy birthday,” she said. “And next time? Eat the stupid cupcake.

Yes," he said. "I am sure. I double-checked everything after you went home yesterday. I even made a few improvements, just in case." The first part of that reassured her. The second part... not so much. "What kind of improvements?" "Oh, nothing, really. Mostly just streamlining. You really did very well; I certainly don't want you to think that I am one of those people who has to be in control all the- Oh, well, I suppose that's actually true- I do have to be in control all the time. But only because I am in charge, of course.

Can I come back and see you sometime?" "Long as you bring me some chocolate," Gramma said, and smiled. "I'm partial to chocolate." "Gramma, you're diabetic." "I'm old, girl. Gonna die of something. Might as well be chocolate.

There's a ghost in this house! An unquiet spirit!" Unquiet spirit?" Shane said under his breath. "Is that politically correct for pissed off? You know, like Undead American or something?

Hannah: What's your plan? Claire: Go get him Hannah: Honey, that is not a plan. That's what we in the military call an objective.