“Thomas was an annoying wiseass who tended to make everyone he met want to kill him, and when I have that much in common with someone, I can't help but like him a little.”

“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.”

“I glanced up at Thomas. "We've still got Hook, right?""He's being held prisoner on a ceramic-lined cookie sheet in the oven," Thomas said. "I figured he couldn't jigger his way out of a bunch of steel, and it would give him something to think about before we start asking questions.""That's an awful thing to do to one of the Little Folk, man," I said."I'm planning to start making a pie in front of him.""Nice.""Thank you.”

“Empty night, Harry. Didn't your little adventure in the lake teach you a damned thing?"I scowled some more. "Like what?""Like life is short," he [Thomas] said. "Like you don't know when it's going to end. Like some things, left unsaid, can't ever be said.”

“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.”

“Thomas grunted. "Might have been smarter for them to have left you alone. Now you know something."I made an exasperated sound. "Yes. Those fools. By trying to kill me, they've revealed their very souls. I have them now."Thomas gave me a steady look. "Being Mab's bitch has made you a pessimist.""I am not a pessimist," I said loftily. "Though that can't last."That made Thomas grin. "Nice.""Thank you.”

“He’s being held prisoner on a ceramic-lined cookie sheet in the oven,” Thomas said. “I figured he couldn’t jigger his way out of a bunch of steel, and it would give him something to think about before we start asking questions.”“That’s an awful thing to do to one of the Little Folk, man,” I said.“I’m planning to start making a pie in front of him.”“Nice.”“Thank you.”