“Now, here. The Warlord sent a likeness of himself.” Sally frowned, but leaned in for a good long stare. “He looks like a dirty fingerprint.” “Of course he doesn’t,” replied her father, squinting at the portrait. “You can see his eyes, right there.” “I thought those were his nostrils.” “Well, you’re not going to be picky, are you? At least he has a face.” “Yes,” Sally replied dryly. “What a miracle.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to go back,” I countered. “Maybe he likes it here.” “With a snack like you hanging on his sleeve, I’m sure he does,” he replied wryly.”

“Ask me again, Tristan read on his cell phone. Ask what? he sent back. Why I call you Sparky. Michael fumbled with the keys, not looking up. Well, sure, why? Tristan sent back. You light me up, came the answer, and Tristan's nimble fingers stopped on the keys. He stared hard at the small screen on his phone, the text message right there, waiting to see if he would send a reply. He just sat and stared till his phone turned off, unable to look up into the oh-so-blue eyes of the man who had sent it.”

“Jen rolled her eyes and let out a huff of air. "You got the knocking part right, fluffy, but you forgot the part where you are asked to come in. You don't just knock and then walk-in." Jen turned to Sally, shaking her head. "You should think they at least have some sort of puppy training class or something.""If you aren't careful, he's going to be picking Jen-kibble out of his teeth after his next meal," Sally whispered under her breath as Decebel continued to stare Jen down. Jen's gaze never wavered as she responded to Sally, "And what makes you think I object to being dinner?”

“I squinted one of my eyes at Daniel.“What are you doing?” he asked.“This is me, giving you the side eye.” I continued to squint.“Well, you look like you’re having a stroke”

“Any other questions?""Just one," I say. "What color are your eyes?" I want to know what he thinks, how he sees himself - the real Ky - when he dares to look."Blue," he says sounding surprised, "they've always been blue.""Not to me.""What do they look like to you?" he says puzzled, amused. Not looking at my mouth anymore, looking into my eyes."Lots of colors," I say. "At first I thought they were brown. Once I thought they were green...""What are they now?" he asks. He widens his eyes a little, leans closer, lets me look as long and deep as I want."Well?""Everything," I tell him, "They're everything.”