“Do you practice the laugh, or is it a natural talent? Naw, I’m betting you practice.” Jean-Claude’s face twisted. I couldn’t decide if he was trying not to laugh, or not to frown. Maybe both. I affected some people that way. The laughter seeped out of her face, very human, until only her eyes sparkled. There was nothing funny about the look in those twinkling eyes. It was the sort of look a cat gives a small bird. Her voice lifted at the end of each word, a Shirley Temple affectation. “You are either very brave, or very stupid.” “You really need at least one dimple to go with the laugh.” Jean-Claude said softly, “I’m betting on stupid.”

“Oh, ma petite, you are growing gargantuan."I looked at him and it was not a friendly look. "Never tease a woman about her weight, Jean-Claude. At least not an American twentieth-century one."He Spread his hands wide. "My deepest apologies.""When you apologize, try not to smile at the same time. It ruins the effect.”

“His dark blue shirt was plastered to his chest, covered with werewolf goop and tears. "Now we both need a bath," I said."That can be arranged.""Please, Jean-Claude, no sexual innuendo until after I'm clean.""Of course, MA PETITE. It was crude of me tonight. My apologies."I stared at him. He was being far too nice. Jean-Claude was a lot of things, but nice wasn't one of them."If you're up to something, I don't want to know about it. I can't handle any deep, dark plots tonight, okay?"He smiled and gave a low, sweeping bow, never taking his eyes off me. The way you bow on the judo mat when you're afraid the person may pound you if you look away.I shook my head. He WAS up to something. Nice to know that not everyone had suddenly become something else. One thing I could always depend on what Jean-Claude. Pain in the ass that he was, he always seemed to be there. Dependable in his own twisted way. Jean-Claude dependable? I must have been more tired than I thought.”

“Auggie said you were too sentimental for your own good sometimes."Out loud he said, "Perhaps, but you have taught me that sentiment is not always a bad thing."I stared up at that impossibly beautiful face, and felt love swell up inside me like a physical force. It filled my body, swelling upward until it made my chest ache, my throat tighten, and my eyes burn. It sounded so stupid. But I loved him. Loved all of him, but loved him more because loving me had made him better. That he would say that I had taught him about being sentimental made me want to cry. Richard reminded me at every turn that I was bloodthirsty and cold. If that were true, then I couldn't have taught Jean-Claude about sentimentality. You can't learn, if you don't have it to teach.He kissed me. He kissed me softly, with one hand lost in the hair to the side of my face. He drew back and whispered, "I never thought to see that look upon your face, not for me.""I love you," I said, and touched his hand where it lay against my face.”

“Jean-Claude gave a low theatrical bow, never taking his eyes from her. "After you, my sweet. A lady should always walk before a gentleman, never behind.”

“That disapproving look was back in her eyes. Her teacher face. The one that could make you squirm from ten paces, even if you were innocent. And I hadn't been innocent for years.”

“Who hit you?""Why, so you can go beat him up?" "One of the fringe benefits of being my human servant is my protection.""I don't need your protection, Jean-Claude.""He hurt you.""And I shoved a gun into his groin and made him tell me everything he knew," I said.”