“Yeah, ignore me." Aaro pawed through the bags until he found one with stenciled hearts on it. "By the way, you never did tell me your size. Hope nothing binds or pinches your tender pink places, babe."He let the bag fly. It landed on Lily's lap. She shrank back as if it were a venomous snake. Fuck-me-please panties spilled out. A tangle of satin, lace and silk. Red, black, peach, flesh-tone. Bruno growled expletives in a Calabrese dialect as he shoved underwear into the bag. It was his standard tension reliever. None of the people he insulted knew he was commenting on their grandmother's predilection for sex with sheep."I am not wearing that slutty, disgusting stuff." Lily's voice was haughty. "Certainly not after you're pawed it. Dog.""Arf, arf." Aaro's tone was more cheerful than it had been so far any time this morning. "I love it when she spits bile.”

“<…>….That's how he made his living. He gave me a pen and ink. This," he lifted his left arm then dropped it back to the bed. "After he died, I had it inked on me. Took what he gave me to a tattoo parlor right after the funeral and got it started." Her voice held a tone of light dawning as she whispered, "So he was your Ella." Her light dawned clear for her and for Walker because she was right. "Yeah, he was my Ella." "So it was Tuku who brought out my Ty." My Ty. My Ty. Christ. Fuck. Christ. Two words. Just two words. Walker had no clue until that moment that two words could mean so fucking much. He'd never belonged to anyone. He'd never belonged anywhere. Never thought he wanted to. Until he heard those two words. He couldn't keep the thick out of his voice when he confirmed, "Yeah, it was him."<…>”

“Uh, what are you doing?''What does it look like I'm doing?' Jake asks, settling into the seat beside me. The bus jerks forward. 'I'm sitting beside you.''No, you're not. Your seat is in the middle. Nice try, though.'He has the audacity to ignore me, sets his book bag on his lap and rummages through it. After a minute, he pulls out a folded sheet of paper and hands it to me.I unfold it. 'A love letter? How sweet.''No.' He turns pink. 'It's just something I found on the Internet-''Porn? You shouldn't have.”

“Of course." He picked up the brown bag of candy on the table. "What's your . . ." He trailed off as he weighed the bag in his hands. "Didn't I give you three pounds of candy?"She smiled impishly."You ate half the bag!""Was I supposed to save it?""I would have liked some!""You never told me that.""Because I didn't expect you to consume all of it before breakfast!"She snatched the bag from him and put it on the table. "Well, that just shows poor judgement on your part, doesn't it?”

“Just as they reached the door to the accommodation section, it opened, and a small boy towing a travel bag along the floor behind him came through. A small dog poked his head out of one end of this bag—the pup had been zipped up inside.“Out of the way, son,” Harper said.The child stopped, and gaped up at the battle-archon. Behind him, his trapped pup growled. The rear end of the leather and cloth satchel oscillated wildly. “I wanted to see the angel,” the boy said. “Aunt Edith promised I could watch it kill something.”Hasp halted, still reeling, and looked down at the boy and his pet. “You want to see me kill?” he muttered. “Then order me to do so. You’re all Menoa’s fucking people on this train.”The boy brightened. “Do it!” he said. “Kill something now.”“As you wish.” Hasp kicked the dog with all of the strength he could muster.Had the animal been made of tougher stuff than flesh and bone, or had its bag been composed of something more substantial than woven thread, it might have made an impact hard enough to shatter the glass wall at the end of the corridor sixty feet away. Instead, the creature and the torn remains of its embroidered travel bag spattered against the opposite end of the passage in a series of wet smacks, more like a shower of red rain than anything resembling the corpse of a dog.The boy screamed.Hasp cricked his neck, then shoved the child aside and stomped away, his transparent armour swimming with rainbows.”

“He told me to not let my friends throw my clothes out of the window," she paused and looked pointedly at Sally, who had the good sense to look sheepish, "because he had to get my clothes back – which he called souvenirs – from the wolves who apparently found them." She chuckled to herself, knowing she was once again the color of a beet."And from the tone in his voice, said souvenirs must've been my womanly garments."Jacque laughed. "Did you just call your bras and panties 'womanly garments'?""That is classic." Sally laughed along."Could you two Pollyannas focus, please?”