“Please. I am the queen of careful. Also, princess of punk fabulousness.”

“Claire - "Go ahead. And thanks. Oh, and be careful?"Eve - "Please. I am the queen of careful. Also, princess of punk fabulousness.”

“Shane dragged Eve's suitcase into the room and dumped it on the floor beside her bed. “Hey, Dark Princess? Here’s your crap. Also, bite me.”

“Eeek,” Shane said. Nothing. Right, Amazon princess, I got the point.”

“Oh -- who's the Queen?""Her, of course. The White Queen. You're just like Alice, you know. Down the rabbit hole with the Mad Hatter.”

“Eve cupped her ear at Claire. "I'm sorry, was that an apology? Because it didn't sound like one.""Don't push it.""I'm not, but you're acting like a drama princess.""Drama queen.""Hello, no. You need a lot more practice at door slamming, flouncing, and pouting before you can even pretend to deserve my throne, bitch. But you're coming along." Eve paused and fixed her with a long, serious look. "That wasn't a compliment, by the way. In case you were wondering.”

“News flash, lady. There are no queens anymore,” Shane said. He loaded shells in a shotgun and snapped it shut, then searched for a place to strap it on that didn’t interfere with the flamethrower. “No queens, no kings, no emperors. Not in America. Only CEOs. Same thing, but not so many crowns.”