“He almost killed my friends. Fuck that guy.”

“Our guy has a property office, John. And I don't mean the Property Office here in One PP. I mean the huge fucking storage facility. A guy in there, with access to thousands of fucking handguns. Even the ones that other people would be keeping an eye on, like Son of Sam's piece, for fuck's sake - a guy in there who'll just boost them and give them to our guy to kill people with. And if the guns are too famous, he'll cut his own slugs out of the bodies and walk away. This guy, our guy, he's actually starting to scare me a bit right now.""A couple of hundred kills to his name didn't do that?""Meh. I dream about killing two hundred people every fucking night.""You know," said Tallow, "whenever I'm in danger of forgetting you're CSU, you always find a way to remind me.”

“He took a long draw then asked, “What’d I do?”“You knew about the guy threatening my dad?”He paused, shifted in his chair, so freaking busted, it wasn’t funny. “They told you?”“Why, no, Swopes, they didn’t. Instead, they waited until the guy knocked the fuck out of my dad and readied him for spaceflight with duct tape then tried to kill me with a butcher’s knife.”

“He tried to turn me into a buffet?” I gritted my teeth. “Before he killed me? He couldn’t kill me first and then eat me? That’s just fucking rude.”

“The bulls are my best friends."I translated to Brett."You kill your friends?" she asked."Always," he said in English, and laughed. "So they don't kill me.”

“Before I could purposefully kill the mood, Luke did it for me. “Fuck. You guys havin’ a sit down with Darius or an orgy in reception?”