“You gotta dance with the devil to get out of Hell.”

“Travis’ mouth fell open. “Oh, hell no. Are you trying to get me killed? You’ve gotta change, Pidge.”“What?” “Get a t-shirt on…and some sneakers. Something comfortable.”“What? Why?”“Because I’ll be more worried about who’s looking at your tits in that shirt instead of Hoffman,” he said, stopping at his door.“I thought you said you didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought?”“That’s a different scenario, Pigeon.” Travis looked down at my chest and then up at me. “You can’t wear this to the fight, so please…just…please just change,” he stuttered, shoving me into the room and shutting me in.”

“If you don’t back away from my girl, I’ll rip out your fucking throat. Right here on the dance floor.”

“I gotta hand it to you, son. You’ve got the biggest balls of anyone that’s come through those doors.”

“Pigeon!”“I’m here!” I called out, running into his arms.Travis looked down and frowned. “You scared the shit out of me! I almost had to start another fight just to get to you… I finally get here and you’re gone!”

“You are officially the coolest person I know." "That's sad, Finch. You should get out more.”

“Let's get something straight; you're not a piece of shit, you're amazing. It doesn't matter who buys me drinks, or who asks me to dance, or who flirts with me. I'm going home with you. You've asked me to trust you, and you don't seem to trust me. - Abby, Beautiful Disaster”