“He'd stay if Talon wanted him to, if Talon asked. All Talon had to do was ask”

“Talon thought kissing Flit to shut him up might be a good idea. He was wrong. It was a fucking great idea.”

“Definitely not," Talon said. "If you screw up like that, you don't get another chance." "But what if he really loves her and it was a mistake?" "It wasn't," Talon said firmly. "He'd keep his cockadoodle in his pants if he loved her. He wouldn't hurt the person he loved. And she should leave his ass for her own good.”

“I stabbed him,” Flit said weakly, clutching at the tattered remains of Talon’s shirt. “With pens,” Talon agreed. “Is he dead?” Flit’s eyes were huge, the pupils blown black, only a sliver of color showing around the edges. He was probably going into shock.“I don’t think so,” Talon said. “It’s pretty hard to die by pen.”

“And Talon did not understand – no, strike that, he didn‘t want to understand – why seeing Hawk and Roadkill together gave him a funny ache in the pit of his stomach. Every time he looked at Flit, the ache got worse. He needed to get laid.”

“Now he came home to Flit's cheerful smile, and Flit's annoying remarks, and Flit's bossy attitude, and Flit's decorating fanaticism, and Flit's delicious cooking, and Flit's dumb advice column mail, and Flit's kisses, and it was all his. That made it different, because all of it – the good, the bad, the stupid, the annoying – it belonged to Talon.”

“Feather‘s sake, you are so fucking annoying, I love you."Warmth blossomed under Flit's skin, like a spark had been lit inside his heart and it had exploded in his chest, messy and wet and wonderful. "You love me?" "It's that or indigestion," Talon replied gruffly. He peppered Flit's forehead and cheeks with kisses.”