“This softening she sees in me isn't enough to make me affectionate, but it's just enough to render me inept. I can't give her what she wants — virtuousness — or what she needs — protection.”

“If she sees him again, she isn't sure what she might do. Only that it will include grievous bodily harm and possible grounds for her own firing.”

“I wasn't a complete bastard. If she liked to think she saw good in me, if she wanted to take credit for it, I'd let her. She deserved that much.”

“You think you fucking know me? I'm an assassin. I kill people for a living. Good people, bad people, it makes no difference to me as long as I get paid." I spoke slowly, giving each word time to sink in. "And that girl you just sold out? She's the only thing in this world that makes me even remotely human.”

“What's happening to me?" she whispers to the quilt. "I'm losing my mind."Though that implies that I had one to begin with.”

“Why do you fight me?" His voice is soft again, as textured as velvet. "Can't you see I'm doing everything I can to help you?""Help yourself off the edge of a cliff," she growls.”

“That's not cruel. This is. You come here in the middle of the night, expecting me to be awake, and ask—no, demand—me to give you things that belong to me as much as they belong to you. Never mind what it does to me. Never mind that each time I see you, I wonder if I'll ever hold you in my arms again, or be able to touch you without you cringing away like I'm a monster. I think it's fair to ask if there's an 'us,' my dear, because I suspect you're trying to use me just now. Tell me that's not cruel, and I'll let you go.”