“Jean-Luc glanced at the coach. "Who is that man? What is that machine?""It's a dunking booth.""Ah, I understand." Jean-Luc nodded. "If he dose not drown, then he is a witch""No, he's just a creep. It's a game.”

“But he’s a vampire.” — HeatherFidelia shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect. My second husband—he had six toes on one foot.”“This is a little more serious than that. Jean-Luc is literally dead half the time.”Fidelia nodded. “For most men, that would be an improvement.”

“Her voice was like a line from an old black-and-white Jean-Luc Godard movie, filtering in just beyond the frame of my consciousness.”

“Someone like Jean-Luc Godard is for me intellectual counterfeit money when compared to a good kung fu film.”

“This is not a good time, Miss Implant." Roman felt Jean-Luc jabbing him in the back with his walking stick. "Uh, Porky. No, I mean--" Damn, what the hell was her name?”

“Ignore him," Heather begged. "I do. Constantly." Jean-Luc studied the coach, then turned to Heather with a wary look. "Every man in this town wants you." She laughed. "Yea, right. The old guys from the nursing home go into cardiac arrest whenever I walk by." His gaze drifted over her. "I can believe that.”