“They?" he said, sounding apprehensive."Me. They're like me.""Don't be a jackass," Roswell said, but not meanly. "No one's like you.”

“You make me sound like an arrogant ass," he said."Are you?""No! I'm just me.”

“You think they liked me?''Sure they did. Who cares, though? They're just parents.''They're your parents,' he said, glancing over at me. 'Plus, I like being liked. Is that crazy?”

“She set her hands neatly in her lap. “But you just said he liked you.” “No, I said he enjoys my company. That is, he enjoys hating me. Or pretending to hate me. I don’t know which. But I’m finding it difficult to completely dislike someone who gets pleasure from having me around. ...“So he likes being mean to you,” she said. “And you like that he likes being mean to you.” “And I like being mean to him, too, don’t forget.” “Of course not. Pleasure from meanness. There’s a name for it: sadomasochism.”

“It means my luck sucks," she said. "It was nice dating a guy wo treated me like a friend instead of a blow-up doll.""You were the one trying to unzip my pants in the truck!""Yeah, well, I thought you weren't interested. I didn't realize that your divining rod just pointed into a different direction.""You're killing me," he said. But it sounded like he was smiling.”

“Elodin looked at me. "What a remarkably honest threat," he said. "Normally they're much more growlish and gristly than that.""Gristly?" I asked, emphasizing the 't.' "Don't you mean grisly?""Both," he said. "Usually there's a lot of, 'I'll break your knees. I'll break your neck.'" He shrugged. "Makes me think of gristle, like when you're boning a chicken.”