“It was like someone in a suit walked up to me and gave me a certificate, which stated “Roxanne Giselle Logan, Your Life is Fucked”.”
“Tex (wearing a tux, and not happy about it) boomed from across the room, “Roxanne Giselle Lo… I mean, Nightingale! When are those fuckin’ harpists gonna shut the fuck up and so we can get some rock ‘n’ roll?”
“Logan gave me a sultry kiss that should have fogged the windows.”
“You hear even a hint that a blizzard’s coming, Roxanne Giselle, you go straight to the store and buy toilet paper, you hear me? And make a pot of chili or stew. Don’t get caught out. I don’t want a phone call saying you starved to death, stuck in the house with no stew.”
“...but fame didn’t suit you, you compromised, a renegade rebel, you gave me your eyes.”
“Just-fucked hair doesn't suit me.”