“What do you think is the problem? You’re a cute kid-­‐uh, guy. Man. You’re a cuteman.”

“You’re really cute, Midori,” I corrected myself.“What do you mean really cute?”“So cute the mountains crumble and the oceans dry up.”

“That's you, right?' he asks me. 'Yeah.' 'Cute. Not that I, uh, think little kids are cute. Just that you were cute. I mean, you can see how you turned out to be so...oh.”

“Hmmm, I bet you’d be really cute with hornays. Not that you’re not cute right now, but you’re a bit young. You’re only what? Four in human years? Oh wait, that’s wrong, isn’t it? You ninety? (Simi)”

“Hi there! You’re cute. Do you have any girlfriends? ‘Cause Gran says Momma needs a man in her life. Then Pops says, ‘Pfft, Martine, the last thing Elise needs is a man!’ But I think my Gran is right.”“Rennie, for tonight, let’s play the think-about-what-we-say-before-we-say-it-game.”

“Please don’t think of me that way. Let me be the guy at the train station.”“You’re not the guy at the train station. You’re my Blake.”