“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?”

“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.”

“You have a visitor, my lord." I frowned, "What?" "That is why I came in here. You have a visitor waiting for you." I stood up, exasperated. "Why didn't you say so?" Lacuna looked confused. "I did. Just now. You were there." She frowned thoughtfully. "Perhaps you have brain damage." "It would not shock me in the least," I said."Would you like me to cut open your skull and check, my lord?" she asked. Someone that short should not be that disturbing.”

“Uh, the Council," I said. "Big shock, they aren't helping."Murphy looked like she might be asleep, but she snorted. "So we're on our own."Yeah."Good. It's more familiar.”

“Thomas looked like he was about to talk some smack at the malk, but only for a second. Then he frowned and said, "It's odd. You sound like...like a grade-school teacher.""Perhaps it is because I am speaking to a child," Cat Sith said. "The comparison is apt."Thomas blinked several times and then he looked at me. "Did the evil kitty just call me a child?”

“You're such a cynic," Molly said."I think cynics are playful and cute.”

“I'd been to the island on most weekends up until I got shot, and Thomas had often come with me. We'd used some fresh lumber, some material salvaged from the ruined town, and some pontoons made from plastic sheathing and old tractor-tire inner tubes to construct a floating walkway to serve as a dock, anchored to the old pilings that had once supported a much larger structure. Upon completion, I had dubbed it the Whatsup Dock, and Thomas had chucked me twenty feet out into the lake, thus proving his utter lack of appreciation for reference-orientated humour. (And then I'd thrown him forty feet out with magic, once I got dry. Because come on, he's my brother. It was the only thing to do.)”