“Fucking hell.” He sighed dramatically. “I hate you, Beckstrom.” “Hold on to that,” I said. “You know, because anger will get you there.”

“It [the trip] captured five very long hours. If you want to know why, it is because Grandfather is Grandfather first and a driver second. He made us lost often and became on his nerves. I had to translate his anger into useful information for the hero. "Fuck," Grandfather said. I said, "He says that if you look at the statues, you can see that some no longer endure. Those are where Communist statues used to be." "Fucking fuck, fuck!" Grandfather shouted. "Oh," I said, "he wants you to know that that building, that building, and that building are all important." "Why?" the hero inquired. "Fuck!" Grandfather said. "He cannot remember," I said.”

“Why the hell would I bring you?" she exclaimed. All her anger turned at his presumption. It was a sign of her agitation that she'd sworn."Because," he said, face calm, "I can teach you how to stake a Strigoi.""THE HELL YOU CAN," I said aloud to no one.”

“Are you going to spend what might be your last your last few days together in Franklen Grove sulking and sighing? Or are you are you going to make the most of them?" "Im a profetional sulker," Ivy replied "And I have a very dramatic sigh,"Olivia said and sighed dramaticly.”

“I didn’t know what the hell to say to that. I just gave an ungrateful sigh of exasperation and pulled the sweater over my head.‘It’s just your colour,’ Henry enthused.‘And you can fuck right off,’ I said.”

“I was now officially Beckstrom the storm rod. And I hated it.”