“Kincaid! Bolshevik Muppet!”

“So we get a plan," I said. "Any suggestions?""Blow up the building," Kincaid said without looking up. "That works good for vampires. Then soak what's left in gasoline. Set it on fire. Then blow it all up again.""For future reference, I was sort of hoping for a suggestion that didn't sound like it came from that Bolshevik Muppet with all the dynamite.”

“Stop," Kincaid said in a calm voice. "Unclench.""Unclench what?" Murphy demanded."Unclench your ass.""Excuse me?""You're going to trip the beam. You need another quarter inch. Relax.""I am relaxed," Murphy growled."Oh," Kincaid said. "Damn, great ass then.”

“Okay," Kincaid said. "Anyone have any questions?""Why do they sell hot dogs in packages of ten but hot dog buns in packages of eight?”

“Kincaid, evidently exhausted himself, drew a gun, took the safety off, placed it on his chest, and went to sleep too."It's cute," I whispered to Murphy. "He has a teddy Glock.”

“Kincaid rounded the far corner. He was dressed in his customary black clothing again, fatigue pants, and a hunting jacket over body armor, and he had enough guns strapped to his body to outfit a terrorist cell, or a Texan nuclear family.”

“She might be the Archive, but she's still a kid, Kincaid."He frowned and looked at me. "So?""So? Kids like cute."He blinked at me. "Cute?""Come on."I led him downstairs.On the lower level of the Oceanarium there's an inner ring of exhibits, too, containing both penguins and--wait for it--sea otters.I mean, come on, sea otters. They open abalone with rocks while floating on their backs.How much cuter does it get than small, fuzzy, floating, playful tool users with big, soft brown eyes?”