“Yeah, good to see you too.Her hand stays on the gun.“Did I say it was good to see you, Joe?“No, but I always try to read between the lines. Figured you going for your gun was how you express affection these days.”

“--Tell them to drop their guns and fuck off out of my way.--Allow him to--I clamp my arm tight.--That's not what I said.She gets it right this time.--Drop your guns and fuck off out of his way.They drop their guns and fuck off out of my way.”

“That's what happens when you get a regular job, other people's shit becomes your problem. 'Course, by the time you got that figured, it's up around your ears and you're just trying to keep your [expletive]ing mouth shut.”

“She makes a stone-face, drops her voice an octave.-No. No. No. My name is Joe Pitt and I don't do nuthin' I don't want to do and I won't even listen because I don't know a good thing when I have it and I'd rather be all fucked up and tragic and go hurt people.”

“Don’t make me come out there and spray you, blanco.I point at my one eye.“Better have some sharpshooter fucking aim you want that shit to do any good.”

“Like I was ever normal. Like I was ever any different from how I am now. A cure won't make me better. It'll just make me more like a regular son of a bitch. Like the Vyrus makes you into something else. It doesn't. If you get it, if you survive, it's because you were already the kind of person who will drink blood.”

“I could flay you and wear your skin as a cloak, and caper in the streets in the moonlight. But some might consider that crass treatment of a guest."I nod.“Well, some people got no sense of humor, do they?"“I am one of those people.”