“You want to go play with your new friends back there? The really pale ones with the taste for plasma? --Shane”

“Shane looked…pale. Pale and shaken and—how predictable was this?—pissed.”

“Well, friend, I don’t know about your tastes, but I tend to like it very bloody,” Myrnin said. He shifted position, dragging Claire along like a rag doll without any effort at all. “Have we been introduced?”“Probably not. Why, are you asking me out, sweetheart?”“You’re not my type, darling. Is this one yours?”“No,” Frank said, and looked at Shane, just in a quick flicker. “Let’s say she’s a friend of the family.”

“Shane, honey, in Morganville, friends are the only things that keep you alive.”

“Me neither,” Shane put in. “Homie don’t play that.”“I wonder, sometimes, if your generation speaks English at all,” Amelie said.”

“Fate" Eve said with a sigh"I'm not sure fate had to burn up your car to get the point across," Shane said, buckling his own seatbelt."No, not that. The hearse. I'm going to name it Fate."Shane stared at Eve for a long, long few seconds, then slowly shook his head. "Have you considered medication, or-"She flipped him off."Ah. Back to normal. Excellent.”

“You know it's desperate," she said. "Shane is going to the library. ”