“I wasn't being a git. I wasn't even being a twat, or a wanker, or any of your other bleeding Briticisms -”
“It wasn't necessarily that I wasn't a fan of fairies. Really. It wasn't that. It was that I wasn't a fan of being taken hostage by a group of fairies.”
“That ain't me, that ain't my face. It wasn't even me when I was trying to be that face. I wasn't even really me them; I was just being the way I looked, the way people wanted.”
“It wasn't like I was some expert on the meaning of being supportive. Was it being loyal even against your better judgement? Or, like Olivia, was it making your displeasure known from the start, even when someone didn't want to hear it?”
“So, did you spend the night with the blond rich wanker or the dark haired posh twat?”
“The way my heart raced like I was being chased through the woods even though I wasn't scared at all.”