“Your neck smells like cheese,' I said.'Oh,' He said, 'that's my cheese cologne. I have a whole selection. Chedder, American, Swiss.”

“She set her hands neatly in her lap. “But you just said he liked you.” “No, I said he enjoys my company. That is, he enjoys hating me. Or pretending to hate me. I don’t know which. But I’m finding it difficult to completely dislike someone who gets pleasure from having me around. ...“So he likes being mean to you,” she said. “And you like that he likes being mean to you.” “And I like being mean to him, too, don’t forget.” “Of course not. Pleasure from meanness. There’s a name for it: sadomasochism.”

“So he likes being mean to you," she said. "And you like that he likes being mean to you.""And I like being mean to him, too, don't forget.""Of course not. Pleasure from meaness. There's a name for it: sadomasochism.""Thanks a lot." I said. "That's just what I need. A mental picture of Todd Harding laced up in a black leather bodysuit with a whip in one hand and his wang in the other.”

“I jumped up and "casually" strolled a bit closer. I blinked my eyes in the sun. It couldn't be, could it? But it was.Gabe...."You know, if you're going to stalk someone, you should be less obvious."I wheeled around. It was Todd. He'd snuck up on me.He said, "For starters, try not to standing in the middle of a field, gawking at your prey."I kicked at a dusty clump of grass. "Gawking? I... I'm... not gawking. I was just watching your girlfired putting the moves on someone else. Jealous?""Oh Gabe Webber?" Todd laughed. "Uh...no."I shielded my eyes from the sun. "Why? What's wrong with Gabe Webber?""Nothing. As in, there's nothing there. He has the personality of dry toast."How dare he insult my Gabe? "Oh yes. I forgot. You prefer the company of assholes and jerks. As they say, 'Birds of a feather...'""That must be why you hang around.”

“He said, “So . . . do you like music?” It was a pretty stupid question. I mean, who doesn’t like music? Okay, maybe some puritanical zealot out in Hicksville. But really. It was kind of like asking, “Do you like food?” “Isn’t oxygen great?” “Have you got skin? I do.” I knew what he meant, though.”

“I hate dancing. I mean, I don't hate it. I just - I'm terrible. I'm totally into music, but I really can't dance."Phew. Relief. "Yeah, you said that this morning. Neither can I." I hitched my thumb at the couples on the dance floor. "Not that I'd call that dancing.""Heh. Yeah.""Sometimes I wish I lived back when people had balls."Oh God. That did not come out right.”

“I'm telling you, you really should stick to mating within your species, whatever that is.''I would,' I said, 'but unfortunately, there are no gorgeous, all-powerful, all-knowing gods around here. I'd even settle for a demigod. It's a step down, I know. But alas, there are nothing but low-brained mortals here. And half-brains, like you.”