“She tapped her foot. “Sometimes I swear you’re your father except with lady parts. You act exactly like him!” -Gram to Sophie”

“Sophie, displaced to the chair next to Lulu, dug her in the side. "Keep him," she whispered. "Nail his foot to the floor if you have to. He's gold.”

“Thank you sensei,” I crossed my arms over my chest as she locked up the door. Gram chuckled and said, “Oh Sophie, your sarcasm never ceases to amaze me.”

“I wanted to say something to cheer her up. I had a feeling that cheering her up might be a lot of work. I was thinking of how sometimes, trying to say the right thing to people, it’s like some kind of brain surgery, and you have to tweak exactly the right part of the lobe. Except with talking, it’s more like brain surgery with old, rusted skewers and things, maybe like those things you use to eat lobster, but brown. And you have to get exactly the right place, and you’re touching around in the brain but the patient, she keeps jumping and saying, “Ow.”

“I knew your father. I hated him.""That surprises me your Majesty." Loki smiled broadly at her. "My father was a stone-cold jerk. That sounds like your taste exactly.”

“She clutched him, her fingers digging in like she needed to gather parts of him to act as her own second skin for the rest of her life.”