“Yeah, but what if you went back and killed your own grandfather?"He stared at me, baffled. "Why the fuck would you do that?”

“What the fuck do you want?" After a pause, he said in a firm voice, "This is Dylan Keeley, the guy who would've killed to trade places with you until five minutes ago." He met my eyes. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Now why don't you go back to screwing your prom queen and let me do the same.”

“There it is! Done! And you didn't even have to fuck me.”He stared at me.“But you can still fuck me if you want to,” I offered.He kept staring at me.“Like now. Fucking me now would be good,” I prompted.He kept staring at me.“Hello?...Calling Kai Mason, girlfriend needs a good fucking, right...about...now.”That's when he spoke.And this is what he said.“God, I love you.”

“Yeah, I went hunting once. Shot a deer in the leg. Had to kill it with a shovel. Took about an hour. Why do you ask?”

“It [the trip] captured five very long hours. If you want to know why, it is because Grandfather is Grandfather first and a driver second. He made us lost often and became on his nerves. I had to translate his anger into useful information for the hero. "Fuck," Grandfather said. I said, "He says that if you look at the statues, you can see that some no longer endure. Those are where Communist statues used to be." "Fucking fuck, fuck!" Grandfather shouted. "Oh," I said, "he wants you to know that that building, that building, and that building are all important." "Why?" the hero inquired. "Fuck!" Grandfather said. "He cannot remember," I said.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? I just got back and I can barely stand on my own. What do you want me to do? Bleed on them? (Fang)”