As she turned to concentrate on the portal, Eve tugged on Claire's shirt. "What?" "Ask him where he got the boots." "You ask." Personally, Claire wanted the vampire bunny slippers.

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.

Want me to warm up the sauce?” “Do we do that? I mean, it’s in a jar, right? Can’t you just dump it over the pasta?” “Well, you can, but it tastes better if you warm it up.” “Oh.” Eve sighed. “This is complicated. No wonder I never cook.

I never meant it," he was saying. "Never meant it to happen. Can't stand it, seeing her suffer. Must do something, do something... What do I do? What can I do...?

Michael!” Oliver’s voice came faint through the front door. “Something you should see, my boy! Look out your windows!” “Trap,” Shane said instantly, and reached out to grab Michael’s arm as he walked by. “Don’t, man.” “What’s he going to do? Make faces at me?

Sometime, somewhere, life always comes to a fight, and peace always comes to an end.

Oliver: Fear is the natural state of anything that dies.