“They-" He stopped and just blinked at me for a minute. "You know, people are always saying that you're cuckoo. Looney Tunes. Off the freaking edge. But I tell 'em, no, she's okay. She's got some...anger management issues. But you know what? They're right. You're nuts.”
“I'm fine," I told him tersely."Of course you are. You're one of the strongest people I know."It took me a second to process that, because he'd said it so casually. Like he was talking about the weather or what time it was. Only Pritkin didn't say things like that. His idea of a compliment was a nod and to tell me to do whatever it was I'd just done over again. Like that was usually possible.But that had sounded suspiciously like a compliment to me.”
“I’d like for you to tell me who you are.” The man blinked. “David Dryden.” I just looked at him. “Your one o’clock?” “My one o’clock what?” “Date,” the third vamp said, grinning. “For what?” I asked, confused. “Well, you know.” The mage looked a little awkward suddenly. “The usual.” “I think we’ve got a contender here, boys,” the brunet said. “Smooth operator,” the second vamp agreed.”
“Start ringing things up then. This won't take long.""Which ones?""I don't care." I push some at her. "These.""These?" She looked dubious."Why not these?"She glanced at Ray. "'Cause if that's your man, I'd say you can leave these off.""Oh, no, you didn't." Ray said."What's this shit?" Ray demanded, looking at the saleclerk."Honey, truth hurts, but ain't no way you're a Magnum.""Well, I ain't no medium!"The clerk smiled. "Yeah, but I was being generous.""What are you doing?" The clerk demanded as Ray grabbed another box. "I ain't rung those up yet."Ray pulled out a foil package and tossed the box back on the counter. "So ring it up."She arched an eyebrow, but didn't bother, maybe because she was watching him unbutton his fly. I caught his wrist. "What are you doing?""Proving a point.""Not in the middle of the store, you're not.""Ain't nobody here," the cashier reminded me. "And ain't no way he's filling that thing out.”
“Aw, fudge,' floated down to me, as a couple of golden eyes peered over a third-floor window ledge. 'You're a freaking dhampir. Why are you reading Tolkien?'I shrugged, then had to dodge the potted geranium he threw at me. 'After five hundred years, you've read just about everything. Besides, he had hella world-building skills.”
“I'm not worried about me," I whispered viciously. And as sono as I said it, I knew it was the truth. Apparently, the surefire antidiote for your own fear is concern for someone else.Pritkin looked surprised, the way he always did at the idea that anyone might actually care about him. It made me want to hit him. Of course, right then I wanted to do that anyway."Nothing is going to happen," he repeated. "But even if it did, you don't need me. You don't need -""That isn't true!""Yes, it is." He looked at me and his lips quirked. "You can't fire a gun worth a damn. You hit like a girl. Your knowledge of magic is rudimentary at best. And you act like I'm torturing you if I make you run more than a mile."I blinked at him."But I've known mages who aren't as resilient, who aren't as brave, who aren't -" he looked away for a moment. And then he looked back at me, green eyes burning. "You're the strongest person I know. And you will be fine.”
“I don’t know. Just pick one.” “Well, there’s a lot of choice. I mean, you got your flavored, your ridged, your pre-lubed, your thin, your super-ultra-thin, your super-ultra-thin-pre-lubed, your…Huh.” “Huh what?” “Would you look at this?” he asked, examining a small box. “It says it glows in the dark.”