“Well, lookee there. Be a fuck of a night, yay?”

“Now mayhap you quit givin Terrible the fuckin slurpy-eyes an give Bump the listening, yay? Thinkin you can? Gots some fuckin chattering wants doin, needs you fuckin head on straight up.”

“But she'd forgotten. She'd forgotten because she'd been so busy thinking of her own fucking feelings. As if she fucking mattered.”

“She was alive, and she was stuck in this fucking tunnel, and she had just broken a fuck of a hex ward, and now she was going to have to walk through the toad-door into who-the-fuck-knew-what with someone who touched her only under duress. Some days it just didn’t pay to get out of bed.”

“She’d really made the fuckup that kept on fucking up, hadn’t she?”

“Fuck, she was so sick of herself-herself and her fucking emotional retardation. How did people do this shit all the time, this wanting people, caring about them? How did they stand it, how did they ever get anything done? She was sick of being lost.”

“Oh, who was she kidding? She wasn’t fucking lucky. But hope sprang eternal, for whatever stupid reason.”