Seth told us good night and left. I watched him go wistfully. “Anyone else here feel like swooning?

Things die. But they don't always stay dead. Believe me, I know.

Sydney: "You can be Jet if you want, but we are not posing as a couple again" Adrian: "Are you sure? Because I've got a lot more terms of endearment to use. Honey pie. Sugarplum. Bread pudding." Sydney: "Why are they all high-calorie foods? And bread pudding isn't really that romantic." Adrian: "Do you want me to call you celery stick instead? It just doesn't inspire the same warm and fuzzy feelings." - The Indigo Spell

Then, his struggles stopped. His eyes stared at me, stunned, and his lips parted, almost into a smile, albeit a grisly and pained one. "That’s what I was supposed to say..." he gasped out. Those were his last words.

ʺWhy,ʺ he began slowly, ʺis Victor Dashkov joining us?ʺ ʺWell, itʹs kind of a funny story . . .ʺ

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

I’ve come to ask you where Seth is.” "Funny,” said Andrea. “We were going to ask you the same thing.” I was taken aback. “How would I know?” They both just stared. "I don’t!