“If your new boss wanted yo on the island, wouldn't she just have told you to go there?" Thomas asked."Seems like," I said. "Taking her orders is pretty much my job now."Molly snorted softly."Maybe I'll grow into it," I said. "You don't know."Thomas snorted softly.”

“How busy are you today?""Oh," he [Thomas] mused. "I don't know. I mean, I've got to get a new shirt now.""After that," I asked, "would you like to help me save the city? If you don't already have plans."He snorted. "You mean, would I like to follow you around, wondering what the hell is going on because you won't tell me everything, then get in a fight with something that is going to leave me in intensive care?""Uh-huh," I said, nodding, "pretty much.""Yeah," he said. "Okay.”

“Molly blinked, then looked at Thomas and said, "Wait a minute.... We're his flunkies.""You, may be," Thomas said, sneering. "I'm his thug. I'm way higher than a flunky.""You are high if you think I'm taking any orders from you," Molly said tartly.”

“Thomas took a slow breath. His silver eyes grew even brighter. It was creepy as hell and fascinating. "I was hoping you knew a good spot. I sure as hell can't take him to my place."Molly's voice sharpened. "I don't even have a place," she said. "I still live at my parents' house.""Less whining," Thomas said, his voice cool. "More telling me a place to take him where he won't be killed.”

“Butters blinked at looked at Thomas. "My God," he said. "You've been shot."Thomas hooked a thumb at Butters. "Check out Dr. Marcus Welby, MD, here.""I'd have gone with Doogie Howser, maybe," I said."Split the difference at McCoy?" Thomas asked."Perfect.”

“Da. This is going very well already."Thomas barked out a laugh. "There are seven of us against the Red King and his thirteen most powerful nobles, and it's going well?"Mouse sneezed."Eight," Thomas corrected himself. He rolled his eyes and said, "And the psycho death faerie makes it nine.""It is like movie," Sanya said, nodding. "Dibs on Legolas.""Are you kidding?" Thomas said. "I'm obviously Legolas. You're . . ." He squinted thoughtfully at Sanya and then at Martin. "Well. He's Boromir and you're clearly Aragorn.""Martin is so dour, he is more like Gimli." Sanya pointed at Susan. "Her sword is much more like Aragorn's.""Aragorn wishes he looked that good," countered Thomas."What about Karrin?" Sanya asked."What--for Gimli?" Thomas mused. "She is fairly--""Finish that sentence, Raith, and we throw down," said Murphy in a calm, level voice."Tough," Thomas said, his expression aggrieved. "I was going to say 'tough.' "As the discussion went on--with Molly's sponsorship, Mouse was lobbying to claim Gimli on the basis of being the shortest, the stoutest, and the hairiest--"Sanya," I said. "Who did I get cast as?""Sam," Sanya said.I blinked at him. "Not . . . Oh, for crying out loud, it was perfectly obvious who I should have been."Sanya shrugged. "It was no contest. They gave Gandalf to your godmother. You got Sam.”

“Right,' Thomas said. 'Where are we headed?''To where they treat me like royalty,' I said.'We're going to Burger King?'I rubbed the heel of my hand against my forehead and spelled fratricide in a subvocal mutter, but I had to spell out temporary insanity and justifiable homicide, too, before I calmed down enough to speak politely. 'Just take a left and drive. Please.''Well,' Thomas said, grinning, 'since you said 'please'- Thomas Raith & Harry Dresden, Small Favor, Jim Butcher”