“No, Julian murmured with a shake of his head. No, there's a third option. People like us, we're third option people. We take the gun, stuff it in the person's mouth, and eliminate the problem. Walk off into the sunset with our kitty.”

“I know he's not stupid," Julian whispered in a stricken voice. "He's not...he's not one of us, just like you said. he's the kind of man who if you gave him a gun and two choices--shoot one of your dogs or shoot yourself in the head--he'd put the gun to his ear and pull the trigger.""Hell, Jules, you'd do the same thing if someone did that to your and your goddamned cats," Blake said in amusement. "No," Julian murmured with a shake of his head. "No there's a third option. People like us, we're third-option people. We take the gun, stuff it in the person's mouth, and eliminate the problem. Walk off into the sunset with our kitty.”

“He’s the kind of man who if you gave him a gun and told him he had two choices—“shoot one of your dogs or shoot yourself in the head”—he’d put the gun to his ear and pull the trigger.” “Hell, Jules, you’d do the same thing if someone did that to you and your goddamned cats,” Blake said in amusement. “No,” Julian murmured with a shake of his head. “No, there’s a third option. People like us, we’re third-option people. We take the gun, stuff it in the person’s mouth, and eliminate the problem. Walk off into the sunset with our kitty.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was shot?” he finally asked with a mischievous glint in his black eyes. Cameron stared at him. “Shot? Like, shot? By a gun?” Julian tilted his head and nodded. “It’s hard to be shot with a knife.”

“What do you want, MacGuffin, a duel?”“No.” Julian held out both hands, one palm flat, the other held over it in a fist. “Rock, paper, scissors. Two out of three.”Ty rolled his eyes and held out his fist, apparently willing to play. Julian hit his palm three times, and Ty kept time with his fist in the air. But when Julian threw a paper, Ty reached into his jacket with his other hand and pulled his gun, aiming it at Julian.“Ty!” Zane said in exasperation from the front seat.“Glock, paper, scissors. I win.”“You are an ass,” Julian muttered.”

“Deuce glanced at him before turning his attention back to Zane and Julian. “Dare I ask what you’ve done to deserve protective custody?” he asked Julian. “I deal antiques,” Julian answered in a soft voice. Deuce nodded, looking Julian up and down. He turned his head to look at Ty speculatively. “That’s a euphemism for ‘I kill things’, isn’t it?”

“See, some people, they’re sticky like Velcro. You’re sticky. Your problems stick to you like fuzzballs from the laundry; you take them everywhere with you and people can see them plain as day. Ty, he’s like spandex. Nothing sticks to him, and he’s shiny on the outside”