Is Adrian here?” “Who?” “Adrian. Tall. Brown hair. Green eyes.” She frowned. “Do you mean Jet?” “I … I’m not sure. Does he smoke like a chimney?” The girl nodded sagely. “Yup. You must mean Jet.

Mmm. O positive, my favorite.” “Is it? I thought it was a cabernet sauvignon.” “So it is,” said Adrian, straight-faced. “My mistake.

So. You’re saying my sister’s dressed like a prostitute

Poor Martin. Geek or no, committing his soul to eternal damnation was a helluva price to pay for six minutes.

I did, however, manage to do it without hurting those dogs. Very considerate of me. Don't let it be said I'm not an animal lover-that wretched kitsune aside.

Life, unfortunately, doesnʹt seem to care what we want. Act now while you can actually stop it from being a disaster.

My mom beat me up," I informed my reflection. It looked back sympathetically.