“He sounded harassed more than anything else, like mass home invasion was just something standing between him and morning coffee.”

“He's not doing anything he shouldn't be doing, right?" "Like what?""Like hitting on you.""Ew. No, of course not. He doesn't see me that way." Michael shook his head and went back to his coffee."What? You think he does?""Sometimes he looks at you a little... oddly, that's all. Maybe you're right. Maybe he just wants you for your blood.""Again, Ew! What's with you this morning?""Not enough coffee.”

“I'm gonna kill him," Eve said, or at least that was what it sounded like filtered through the pillow.Stake him right in the heart, shove garlic up his ass, and-and-"And what?" (Michael)When did you get home?" Claire demanded.Apparently just in time to hear my funeral plans. I especially like the garlic up the ass. It's...different.”

“It's not the hair. You just--you're something else, Claire. It's like when all the rest of us don't know where to go, you ... just go. You're not afraid.”

“He swallowed and shifted his weight a little uneasily, and then said, very quietly, his lips almost touching hers, 'Promise me you'll marry me. Not now. Someday. Because I need to know."Claier felt a flutter inside, like a bird trying to fly, and a ruch of heat that made her dizzy. And something else, something fragile as a soap bubble, and just as beautiful. Joy, in the middle of all this horror and heartbreak. 'Yes,' she whispered back. 'I promise.'And she kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, while the sun came up and bathed Morganville in one last, shining day.”

“Promise me you’ll marry me. Not now. Someday. Because I need to know.”Claire felt a flutter inside, like a bird trying to fly, and a rush of heat that made her dizzy. And something else, something fragile as a soap bubble,and just as beautiful. Joy, in the middle of all this horror and heartbreak.“Yes,” she whispered back. “I promise.”And she kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, while the sun came up and bathed Morganville in one last, shining day.”

“I stand corrected. Afternoons are hard. Mornings are pure evil from the pits of hell,”