“―What about you, Con? Shade asked, and Con took two deep, calming breaths before he answered.―What about me?―You aren‘t a danger to her, right?―No, Con said levelly. ―I‘m not. But even he didn‘t believe his own words.Wraith flipped a blade in the air, a very Sin-like move. ―Okay, what the fuck is all the subtext here? He blinked when everyone stared at him. ―What? Like I don‘t know what subtext is? I watch movies.―That‘s because you can‘t read, Tayla said brightly, and the demon shot her the finger.”

“The entire hospital seemed to go still, watching and waiting, and what the hell was up with Sin and guys on horses anyway? "Well, who is he?""War."Con stared at her. "War. Just...War. What kind of name is that?" Nope, not jealous at all of muscle-bound handsome guy."Yeah, you know, the original War. Second Horseman of the Apocalypse?"Con nearly swallowed his fucking tongue. Everyone else in the ER scrambled backward. Even Eidolon backed up a step as the guy swung down from the horse. Christ, standing, the guy was damned near seven feet tall."Sin," he said in an impossibly deep voice. He approached her, bent to kiss her cheek, and Con bristled."Big horse," Con ground out. "Compensating much?”

“Con! Fuck!"Male voice. Deep.Con blinked, coming out of his haze to see Shade beneath him. Con's erection was pushed hard against Shade's thigh, and yeah....not cool.Panting and shaking like a leaf, Con scrambled off him. "Ah...I don't...that was, ah...not for you.""I fucking hope not," Shade muttered.~Con/Shade”

“Halt waited a minute or two but there was no sound except for the jingling of harness and the creaking of leather from their saddles. Finally, the former Ranger could bear it no longer.What?”The question seemed to explode out of him, with a greater degree of violence than he had intended. Taken by surprise, Horace’s bay shied in fright and danced several paces away.Horace turned an aggrieved look on his mentor as he calmed the horse and brought it back under control.What?” he asked Halt, and the smaller man made a gesture of exasperation.That’s what I want to know,” he said irritably. “What?”Horace peered at him. The look was too obviously the sort of look that you give someone who seems to have taken leave of his senses. It did little to improve Halt’s rapidly growing temper.What?” said Horace, now totally puzzled.Don’t keep parroting at me!” Halt fumed. “Stop repeating what I say! I asked you ‘what,’ so don’t ask me ‘what’ back, understand?”Horace considered the question for a second or two, then, in his deliberate way, he replied: “No.”Halt took a deep breath, his eyebrows contracted into a deep V, and beneath them his eyes with anger but before he could speak, Horace forestalled him.What ‘what’ are you asking me?” he said. Then, thinking how to make the question clearer, he added, “Or to put it another way, why are you asking ‘what’?”Controlling himself with enormous restraint, and making no secret of the fact, Halt said, very precisely: “You were about to ask me a question.”Horace frowned. “I was?”Halt nodded. “You were. I saw you take a breath to ask it.”I see,” Horace said. “And what was it about?”For just a second or two, Halt was speechless. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then finally found the strength to speak.That is what I was asking you,” he said. “When I said ‘what,’ I was asking you what you were about to ask me.”I wasn’t about to ask you ‘what,’” Horace replied, and Halt glared at him suspiciously. It occurred to him that Horace could be indulging himself in a gigantic leg pull, that he was secretly laughing at Halt. This, Halt could have told him, was not a good career move. Rangers were not people who took kindly to being laughed at. He studied the boy’s open face and guileless blue eyes and decided that his suspicion was ill-founded.Then what, if I may use that word once more, were you about to ask me?”Horace drew a breath once more, then hesitated. “I forget,” he said. “What were we talking about?”

“Okay," I said, "what's your biggest fear?"As always, he took a second to think about the answer."Clowns," he said."Clowns.""Yup."I just looked at him. "What?" he said, glancing over at me."That is not a real answer," I told him."Says who?""Says me. I meant a real fear, like of failure, of death, of regret. Like that. Something that keeps you awake nights, questioning your very existence."He thought for a second. "Clowns.”

“An old love of my uncle's. Her name was Nott.""Not what?""Nott. Just Nott."Mack waited as long as he could before asking, "Not what?""Nott. That was he name. Nott.""Is that a joke?" Mack asked. "Like one of those 'not' jokes? Like if I said, 'I like your dress...not.'""What's the matter with my dress?" Xiao asked, a little irritated.Leaning forward, Jarrah asked, "Not what?""Not a what, a who," Mack explained to Jarrah. "Nothing!" he answered Xiao's question."Okay, then," Jarrah said. "Not who?""Are we there yet?" Stefan asked."I think Nott was Shen Long's girlfriend," Mack yelled back to Jarrah. The wind was fierce and cold now that Shen Long was picking up speed."Then what's this about nothing?" Jarrah asked."It's not about nothing," Mack said. "It's about Nott."There was a moment or two of silence. Then Jarrah said, "You know, I could push you right off this dragon's back."Mack thought that over for a second or two then said, "I'd prefer you not. Heh.”