“Where are you going?” “To get a Coke!” “Would you—” “No!”

“When she set Shane’s glass of Coke down in front of him, she did it with probably a little too much emphasis; he glanced up at her with a question-mark expression.[...] ‘‘What?’’ Shane asked her, and took a drink. ‘‘Did I forget to say thanks? Because, thanks. Best Coke ever. Did you make it yourself? Special recipe?”

“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.”

“No, not you two. Stay here.''Does he just not get how unfair and sexist that is?' Eve asked. 'Men.''You really want to go first?''Of course no. But I'd like the chance to refuse to go first.”

“Here. Have a Coke. That’s good for a sore throat, right?”“Good for everything,” Shane croaked, and took the extended cold can with good grace. “Thanks.”“You owe me a dollar,” Eve said. “I’ll add it to the five thousand you already owe me, though.”He blew her a kiss, and she stuck her tongue out at him, and that was the end of the subject, thankfully.”

“Oh, hey, Claire,” she said, and blinked. “Where are you going?”“Funeral,” Shane said. On-screen, a zombie shrieked and died gruesomely.“Yeah? Cool! Whose?”“Hers.” Shane said.”

“Bathroom, maybe? Which is where I need to go.""Ooh, me, too," Eve said. The boys rolled their eyes, like they'd planned it. "What? It's what girls do. Get over it.”