“I got a question for you, gonna come over here and kiss me with those pretty lips?”

“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.”

“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.”

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

“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.”

“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.”

“Professional. You live with him, you cook for him, you decorate his house like your own nest – it's totally professional. I mean, it's not like you're in love with the guy.”