“It's a little scary, what you do." As I tried to figure out how to respond, and with words as sharp and cold as the blade of a knife, Criminy said, "If you're scared of her talent, then you don't truly know what fear is.”

“Criminy?" I asked."Hmm?""What are we doing?""I'm having a meal with a friend while you squirm like a child," he said serenely.”

“Why, Criminy Stain," I said. "You're a romantic.""Oh, no," he said with a grin. "I'm fiendish and unscrupulous, a vicious killer and a thief and a bloodthirsty monster. And maybe a little romantic. But don't tell anyone, or my reputation's shot.”

“I needed to take control of the dream. I held out a hand with fingers splayed and focused my will. “Zzzzzzzsssst! Pshew! Zzzzist!” I said. But nothing happened. “What in Sang are you doing, love?” he asked. My arm dropped to my side. “I was trying to shoot lightning bolts out of my fingertips,” I said. Then, quietly, “It usually works.” “Told you it wasn’t a dream. Do you want to try flying, too?” Sheepishly, I gave a little hop, but my feet came back down to the ground. “No,” I said, feeling sullen and embarrassed and on the verge of outright panic.”

“I watched him playing with the long blades of grass, weaving them into patterns as he hummed an unfamiliar song, a waltz."What are you doing?" I asked him."I'm letting you get used to the idea of me," he said idly. "I'm pretending to be harmless. Is it working?""Until you smile," (...)”

“Dammit, woman! You're scent, your stupid bloody delicious scent lingering in every crevice of my body and my wardrobe, driving me nearly mad. Do you know what it's like to want something so badly, to have it so close, and still feel that it's out of your reach? Out of control?”

“You're here," he said simply. "Do I know you?" I asked, which came out more haughtily than I had intended. "You will," he answered, kicking off the tree and walking toward me. "After all, you're wearing my locket. And I've been waiting for you.”