“You can call me Patch. No really. Call me.”

“Call me Patch. I mean it. Call me.”

“Your name?” I repeated, hoping it was my imagination that my voice faltered.“Call me Patch. I mean it. Call me”

“My arms hurt from how tightly Patch held me. “Now that’s what I call a scream,” he said, grinning at me.”

“Nora: What are you planning?Patch: I wouldn't call this planning. I'd call this throwing a Hail Mary with seconds left on the clock.”

“Can you climb trees? Tell me you can climb a tree!”Patch grinned. “I can fly.”

“She'll kill me if she finds you in here. Can you climb trees? Tell me you can climb a tree!"Patch grinned, "I can fly.”