They carried on sniping in the front seat, and Mae turned back to Jamie. "You doing okay?" she murmured. "Yes," said Jamie, a bit too earnestly. "I love you, Mae. Your hair is the color of flamingos! And I love Nick as well." He gazed soulfully in Nick's direction. "Sometimes when you are not being psychotic, you are quite funny. And you!" He regarded Seb for a long moment. "No, I still don't like you," he decided. "Maybe I need another drink." "I don't think so," Nick said.

Peter,” Ashley asked softly, “Do you know what that was?” “Of course,” Peter said, much affronted. “A thimble.” “No,” said Ashley, staring, “That was a kiss.” “Didn’t it strike you as a little different from other thimbles you’ve had in the past?” Peter looked shifty. “Well, yes.” “Ha!” “It was my first thimble with tongue.” Peter told her with dignity.

It is always about you for me.

Oh, you need Alan to betray Nick and then you'll steal Nick's powers and kill them both," said Mae. "Great idea. Hey, can i come? I'll bring a picnic lunch if you promise not to let blood get on the sandwiches.

I realise people exist who don't read. But it's like I knew there were people who didn't breathe or eat: I can't imagine a life like that.

Also, you may not have noticed, but this is a cupboard." "I admit that our private office is of modest dimensions," Kami told him, "But that's the way we like it. Just because we're editors doesn't mean we need special privileges. We're not snobs.

And they all lived happily ever after (barring death, divorce, arrest for tax fraud, that incident with the pool boy...)