“Feeling like a caveman tonight? Or do you still insist you’re immune to such primitive impulses?”

“Something’s different,” Carlos continued. “Tonight you came in with no scowling or growling. Why thechange?”Robby shrugged one shoulder. “I’m trying to convince you I’m no’ crazy. If I kept doing the same thing when itwasna working, would that no’ be crazy?”“Good point.” Carlos rinsed the bowl and placed it in the dishwasher. “So you’re trying a new strategy tonight.”Robby removed the bottled blood from the microwave and filled a glass. “Tonight I saw an angel.”Carlos’s eyes widened. “And you’re still trying to convince me you’re not crazy?”

“I’ve come to ask how you do it. How you feel what I know you’re feeling and then walk away like that.”

“Come, come," I said. "You may be a lord someday, but you aren't one yet. No need for the courtly manners, and certainly not the moody temper. If you're to be my escort tonight, I insist you be a cheery one. You can even insult me if you like. It always makes you feel better.”

“... the repression of primitive, violent impulses in favor of civilized behavior was a control mechanism for the more shrewdly aggressive dominators who successfully channeled *their* primitive, violent impulses into a socially acceptable form known as 'ruthlessness,' while monopolizing the right to use outright violence as a last resort for maintaining an otherwise indefensible accumulation of power and wealth.”

“I didn't know you were such a caveman.""I'm a damn contractor. Of course I'm a fucking caveman.”