“You picked the seats you did for a reason, right? Familiarity. Too bad the best sleuths avoid familiarity. It dulls the investigative instinct.”

“Being with you never felt wrong. It's the one thing I did right. You're the one thing I did right.”

“He felt warm and familiar. He felt solid and safe. I wanted to cling to his shirt, bury my face into the warm curve of his neck, and never let go.”

“You should shower," I said. "Right now.""I smell that bad?"Actually, he smelled that good.”

“Your file was empty. Nothing. Not even an immunization record.” He didn’t even pretend to look surprised. He eased back in his seat, eyes gleaming obsidian.“And you’re telling me this because you’re afraid I might cause an outbreak? Measles or mumps?”“I’m telling you this because I want you to know that I know something about you isn’t right. You haven’t fooled everybody. I’m going to find out what you’re up to. I’m going to expose you.”“Looking forward to it.”I flushed, catching the innuendo too late.”

“I love you, Nora. Whatever happens, promise me you'll remember that. I don't care why you came into my life, only that you did. I don't remember all the things I did wrong. I remember what I did right, I remember you. You made my life meaningful. You made my life special.”

“Since we're keeping it primal, you smell good," he observed. "It's called a shower...," I began automatically, then trailed off. My memory snagged, taken aback by a compelling and forceful sense of undue familiarity. "Soap, shampoo, hot water," I added, almost as an afterthought. "Naked. I know the drill," Jev said, something unreadeble passing over his eyes.”