What's up?" Christian asked. "Need some hairstyling tips?" "Tips you stole from me? No thanks. But I hear you've got a really good bacon meatloaf recipe." It was worth it then and there to see his complete and total surprise. "Since when do you cook?" he finally managed to stammer. "Oh, you know. I'm a Renaissance man. I do it all. Send it if you've got it, and I'll give it a try. I'll let you know if I make any improvements." His smirk returned. "Are you trying to impress a girl?" "With cooking?" I pointed at my face. "This is all it takes, Ozera.

What?" I asked uneasily. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He shook his head, the smile rueful now. "Because sometimes, a person can get so caught up in the details that they miss the whole. It's not just the dress or the hair. It's YOU. You're beautiful. So beautiful, it hurts me.

I’m sorry ma’am,” I said. Really, I had no idea what else to say. I’d spent the weekend caught up in an epic battle to save humanity, and now… jean shorts?

I like you being the sinner you are. -Adrian Ivashkov

She says you're not awake until you're actually out of bed and standing up.

They're true," I replied defiantly. "I came here to kill you. And if I can't do that, then I'd rather die." "You failed, you know. On the street." "Yeah. I kind of figured that out when I woke up here.

I don't suppose you offered to help?" "Sage," Adrian declared. "These hands don't do manual labor." He knocked another ball into a hole. "You want to play?" "What? With you?" "No, with Clarence." He sighed at my dumbfounded look. "Yes, of course with me.