“She got in, as she had persuaded Jerott Blyth to bring her half across France, by force of logic, a kind of flat-chested innocence and the doggedness of a flower-pecker attacking a strangling fig.”

“There's no bright side," Phineas objected. "The man's got no gonads.""But she hit the target," Carlos said."The man has got no gonads," Phineas repeated forcefully."It was an accident." Caitlyn set her gun on the counter. "I was aiming for his chest.""You blew his pecker to Connecticut," Phineas muttered.She grinned. "I think you have issues, Phineas. It was only a paper pecker.”

“She smiled, and there it was again, that aching pressure in his chest. Love, or a heart attack. Kind of the same thing.”

“Jazz hadn't given her many details of exactly what life in the Dent house had been like, but he'd told her enough that she knew it wasn't hearts and flowers. Well, except for the occasional heart cut from a chest. And the kind of flowers you send to funerals.”

“I ask you, is it the fig tree's fault that it's not the season for figs? What kind of thing is that to do to an innocent tree, wither it instantly?”

“Fig leaned in close, his chest pressed to her back, his palm flat on her belly. “Time to muster up some moxie, Roxie,” he whispered. “Every woman in this bar is wishing she had a body as gorgeous as yours, and every man is wishing he had your long, beautiful legs clamped around his butt.”Roxie relaxed. Smiled even. “Does that include you?” [...]“Nah.” [...] “My wish involves them wrapped around my head.”