And the truth was that most of Nash's friends weren't that bad. Their girlfriends were another story. Speaking of bloodthirsty hyenas...

Sabine gestured to him with the half-eaten crust. "I like him. Not sure why he's wasting his time with the pole dancer, though." Tod laughed out loud and I groaned. "Sophie takes ballet and jazz. She's not a pole dancer." "There's more money in pole dancing," Sabine insisted.

So, what now? We’re friends?" Yeah. If friends could be in love, but not together. In sync, but out of touch. Willing to die for each other, but unable to trust.

I think I was born 'in to deep,' and bad things happen every day. Sometimes I have to stab hellions. Sometimes I have to frame friends for murder, and stab evil math teachers, and watch my best friend die. Again. We deal with it, then we move on.

This would be so much easier if they actually issued black hoods.

That's because Tod never brings anything but death and bad advice," I snapped. "That's not true." Tod tried to grin, "Sometimes I bring pizza.

Even if they were willing to let you remove your Pride from the council's collective influence—and they won't be—there's a reason the council exists. We band together because there's strength in numbers. Because in its unperverted state, the council ensures representative government and a pooling of resources and ideas that benefits everyone." "Yes, but the operative word there is unperverted, and right now, you guys are operating under the thumb of the biggest power-pervert ever to swish his tail in the U.S. He's like Hitler with fur.