Shane? Thank God, somebody sane. Well, sane-ish.

He had on bunny slippers. These had fangs. They all stared at them in silence for about a heartbeat, and then Shane said, "That is impressively wicked. Crazy, but wicked.

Are you in the car that's almost caused three accidents on North Vance?" Hannah asked. "Because I'm following you with my lights flashing, and whoever's driving isn't pulling over." "Let him go," Claire said. "Trust me. You aren't going to get him to stop." "Oh, God. It's Myrnin, isn't it?" "Tell that police lady to stop chasing me," Myrnin said, annoyed, from the front seat. "Really, I'm not THAT bad at this.

And somewhere in heaven, Versace sheds a single, perfect tear.

This won't stop her from getting elected," Shane said. "Stupider people get elected all the time. It's America. We love the sleazy. And the crazy." "I would like to think better of us," Claire said, "but yeah. You're right.

You are so lucky I'm too tired to murder you right now.

You better check your playlist. Because you are on the wrong track.