“It took a freaking genius to put this together, Michael."I hefted my staff."Fortunately," I said, and took a two-handed swing at the nearest stand of slender, delicate crystal. It shattered with gratifying ease, and the encasing light around the greater circle began to waver and dissipate. "It only takes a monkey with a big stick to take it apart.”

“I looked from the gadget-readied spear and body armor to my slender staff of plain old wood and leather duster."My dick is better than your dick," I said.”

“I took a big dose of Tylenol the original, since I didn't have my Tylenol 3 or its lesser-known, short-lived cousin, Tylenol Two: The Pain Strikes Back.”

“It isn't a club," I said calmly. "It's a walking stick.""Six feet long.""It's traditional Ozark folk art.""With dents and nicks all over it."I thought about it for a second. "I'm insecure?""Get a blanket." He held out his hand. I signed and passed my staff over to him. "Do I get a receipt?"He took a notepad from his pocket and wrote on it. Then he passed it over to me. It read: Received, one six foot tall traditional Ozark walking club from Mr. Smart-Ass.”

“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.”

“On the whole, we're a murderous race. According to Genesis, it took as few as four people to make the planet too crowded to stand, and the first murder was a fratricide. Genesis says that in a fit of jealous rage, the very first child born to mortal parents, Cain, snapped and popped the first metaphorical cap in another human being. The attack was a bloody, brutal, violent, reprehensible killing. Cain's brother Abel probably never saw it coming. As I opened the door to my apartment, I was filled with a sense of empathic sympathy and intuitive understanding. For freaking Cain.”

“There was a click of high heels in the hall behind us, and a young woman appeared. She was pretty enough, I suspected, but in the tight black dress, black hose, and with her hair slicked back like that, it was sort of threatening. She gave me a slow, cold look and said, "So. I see that you’re keeping low company after all, Ravenius."Ever suave, I replied, "Uh. What?""’Ah-ree," Thomas said.I glanced at him.He put his hand flat on the top of his head and said, "Do this."I peered at him.He gave me a look.I sighed and put my hand on the top of my head.The girl in the black dress promptly did the same thing and gave me a smile. "Oh, right, sorry. I didn’t realize.""I will be back in one moment," Thomas said, his accent back. "Personal business.""Right," she said, "sorry. I figured Ennui had stumbled onto a subplot." She smiled again, then took her hand off the top of her head, reassumed that cold, haughty expression, and stalked clickety-clack back to the bistro.I watched her go, turned to my brother while we both stood there with our hands flat on top of our heads, elbows sticking out like chicken wings, and said, "What does this mean?""We’re out of character," Thomas said."Oh," I said. "And not a subplot.""If we had our hands crossed over our chests," Thomas said, "we’d be invisible.""I missed dinner," I said. I put my other hand on my stomach. Then, just to prove that I could, I patted my head and rubbed my stomach. "Now I’m out of character—and hungry.”