“You cannot thrash the person who makes you coffee. It's a rule somewhere.”

“See, this was why I liked coffee. You couldn’t screw up making coffee. Even the bad stuff was good.”

“Coffee. I could smell coffee. Coffee would make everything better.”

“It's easier to find a way to make money at something you love than to learn to love a job that you can make money at.”

“I am not going to be the person who completes you,” he said, glancing at me and turning away. “You are one messed-up bitch.”

“Making a spell is easy. It's trusting you did it right that's hard.”

“Shut up," I hissed. Ticked that he was taller than me, I stepped up onto a nearby coffee table. "I'm not in a cage anymore," I said, keeping enough presence of mind not to poke him in the chest with a finger. His face went startled, then cloric. "The only thing between your head and my foot becoming real close and personal right now is my questionable professionalism. And if you ever threaten me again, I'll slam you halfway across the room before you can say number-two pencil. Got it, you tall freak of nature?”