“You should hit him in the face with frying pans more often," Said Rhys "he seems to like it”

“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.”

“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.”

“Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind,” he said, “That from the nunnery, Of they chaste breast and quiet mind.”I looked up at him, and said the next line, “To war and arms I fly.”“True, a new mistress now I chase,” he said.“The first foe in the field,” I said, and let him draw me closer.“And with a stronger faith embrace,” he said.“A sword, a horse, a shield.” And the last word was whispered against his chest, still looking up into those eyes, searching his face.“Yet this inconstancy is such, As thou too shalt adore,” he whispered against my hair.I finished the poem with my face pressed against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, that truly beat with my blood. “I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more.”

“I didn’t know what to say to that. I just stared at him. He was right, of course he was right, but… “I can’t do my job like this.” “No,” he said, “you can’t.” Then suddenly I felt the first tear slide down my face. “No crying,” he said. Another tear joined the first. I fought not to wipe at them. His hand dropped to his side and he took a deep breath. “That’s not fair. Don’t cry.” “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to, but you’re right, I think. I’m pregnant, damn it, not crippled.”

“He smiled and extended a hand. "I knew you would do it, ma petite.""You arrogant son of a bitch." I smashed the shotgun butt into his stomach. He doubled over just enough. I hit him in the jaw. . He rocked back. "Get out of my mind!”

“If you are not a lady, then you are a whore. You do not want to know what would happen to a human whore within these walls." He seemed tired as he said it, as if he'd been there, done that, and hadn't had a good time.”