“I wish to God,” said Gideon with mild exasperation, “that you’d talk—just once—in prose like other people.”
“Sir, no insult intended, but you said to me once that you don’t like kiss-asses and that you’d rather work with people challenging your perceptions.”
“I'm sick of just liking people. I wish to God I could meet somebody I could respect.”
“I swear, talking to you is like talking to a really good-looking and mildly stupid brick wall.”
“But if they loved each other so much, couldn’t they talk it out?” Toby gave an exasperated laugh. “You get into habits. Ways of being with certain people.”
“I wish I could take my brain and put it inside your head,” Winslow said. “Just for a moment. Then you’d know what all I can’t find how to say.”