“I sighed and put Slayer between the front seats. "Stay here. Guard the car."Saiman shut the door. "Is the sword sentient?""No. But I like to pretend it is.”

“Do you like my working persona?" Saiman asked softly. "An aesthetically pleasing combination of intelligence and elegance, wouldn't you say?"Aren't we pleased with ourselves. "Are you Chinese, Japanese, half-white? I can't tell, your features are neither here nor there.""I'm inscrutable, mysterious and intellectual."He forgot conceited. "Did you have any trouble getting that ego through the door?"Saiman didn't even blink. "Not in the least.”

“Curran gave me a flat look. "I can always drive to a burger joint instead." "Oh, so you'd throw a burger down my throat and expect making out in the back seat?"He grinned. "We can do it in the front seat instead, if you prefer. Or on the hood of the car.""I'm not doing it on the hood of the car." "Is that a dare?" Why me?”

“I prefer the term ‘sexual deviant’ myself,” Saiman said.”

“Just so you know: if a rakshasa shows up, I left my sword in the car.”

“Give me an opportunity to fail," Saiman said. "I promise my corpse won't interrupt your 'I told you so' speech.”

“Saiman picked up a coffee mug, stared at it, and hurled it against the wall. It shattered into a dozen pieces. We looked at him. “Your date appears to be hysterical,” Rene told me. “You think I should slap some man into him?"Saiman stared at me, speechless. I had to give it to Rene—she didn't laugh. But she really wanted to.”