“They don’t eat that much.” “In comparison to what? Starving marines?”

“Not really hungry.""She’ll eat." Pritkin said curtly."I said —""If you starve to death it would damage my professional reputation.""I eat plenty.""The same does not apply should I strangle you in understandable irritation, however.""I’ll have a sandwich," I told Nick. "No meat.”

“Pritkin kissed like he did everything else, straightforward, accepting no prisoners and with an intensity that left me breathless. It was hot and hard and desperate, like he was starving for it, and I opened my mouth and took it, because, God.”

“I didn't eat.""What difference does that make?""I'm not like you. I can't recharge by feeding off someone. I need food.""I know that! When was the last time you ate?""Yesterday.""Yester--why the hell didn't you eat?""We had to go buy condoms, remember?""And you couldn't grab a sandwich on the way out?" he said hysterically. "I'm gonna die because you couldn't grab a sandwich?”

“I have to fix this,” I told him, as clearly and calmly as I could. “If you want to help me, then help me. Don’t shield me, don’t protect me, don’t bury me alive. Help me .”

“Where. Is. He?" Alphonse repeated, although it sounded more like "Don't make me eat your face.”

“We’re going jogging.”“I don’t run for recreation. I run when someone’s after me with a weapon.”“That can be arranged,”