“To Madeline, This subtle second selfSheaf of meCan do more than you ever could.Like you, it can leaveAnd goSomewhere else.The night splits me in two.I disconnect —To sink, to fall, to flyAnd rageForeverAnd alwaysWithout you”

“You can touch me, but you can't hurt me.”

“You're really a blond," she said, her tone just short of accusatory."And if you tell anyone, I will come to you in the night and smote your everlasting soul.”

“Please," she murmured at her burger, her voice no more than a squeaky whisper, "Don't do this.”

“I'll keep it," she said. "Then, when you get back, after you and the dark one are done making out and planning a future filled with blond-haired, green-eyed, pigment-challeneged rug rats, I'll bring it over and you can add it to your scrapbook, right before you start cooking me dinner. I like vegetarian lasagna with cottage cheese instead of ricotta.""Gwen?""And don't forget the mushrooms. Garlic bread, too, please. That is, as long as your vampire lover doesn't object.""I want to say thank you," Isobel said. "For... everything.""No," Gwen said. "Thank you for the delicious dinner. I can almost taste the baklava you and Darth Vader will be making for dessert. Something tells me you're gonna have to look that one up, though.”

“As if. You so got it for him. I mean, can we say, 'Uhm, urh, durh, Sloppy Joe'? Psh. Please. Can't hide it from me.”

“Danny, give me the phone." Isobel thrust her hand out for the receiver. "And you can forget the five bucks." "I was gonna charge you three-fifty anyway," he said, holding the phone just out of reach. "He knew he hadn't dialed the wrong number, so I had to tell him you were on the crapper.”