And you work for that demon, right? The one who looks like Matthew Broderick?” “John Cusack,” I corrected. “He looks like John Cusack.” “Whatever.

You've always been my equal, Roza.

How was it that Adrian Ivashkov, who never seemed to take anything seriously was the only one among these "responsible" people who paid attention to such small details? How was he the only one to really understand the magnitude of what I was feeling?

Tawny," I barked. My voice held the authority of a drill sergeant. She jumped. "I am NOT making out with you until the end of time. You want to do this, then you've got to work for it. Now, TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES." "Oh," said Hugh. "I've waited ten years to hear you say that to another woman.

How is Angeline?” asked Dimitri. “Is she improving?” Eddie and I exchanged glances. So much for avoiding her indiscretions. “Improving how exactly?” I asked. “In combat, in following the dress code, or in keeping her hands to herself?” “Or in turning off caps-lock?” added Eddie. “You noticed that too?” I asked. “Hard not to,” he said.

You know, I might miss some of your witticisms when you’re gone, but one thing I won’t miss? Your overwhelming sense of melodrama and despair. It’s too much even for me.

I was so tired of being told reasonable, practical things whenever something went wrong with my life.