“You don't fight fair," he accused.I grinned back at him."Never said I did.”

“I’m just glad you took me back,” he said, grinning widely. Stupid grin. It made me want to kiss him, and I shouldn’t have wanted to kiss him.”

“Yes, I'm back," he said, "And look who I ran into."Horace grinned at him. "i hope you ran into him hard.""As hard as I could.”

“Mercy," he said,"in a fair fight between near equals, I'll back you every time. It's the demons, vampires, and river devils I worry about, and I'm working on that.”

“My name—or the English version of my name—is Fighting Prawn.”“Fighting Prawn?” said Alf.“Does my name amuse you, Englishman?” said Fighting Prawn.“No,” said Alf, his grin evaporating. “If I may ask,” said Fighting Prawn, “what is your name?”“Alf,” said Alf.“Alf,” repeated Fighting Prawn. He said something to the other Mollusk’s, which included “Alf.” They roared with laughter. Fighting Prawn turned back to Alf.“In our language,” he said, “Alf means squid poop.”

“You love it, don’t you? Admit it. I got you excited about football.” He was gloating as he did a little victory dance.You got me excited about something, that’s for sure.“I love it,” I said, grinning back at him. I poked him in the stomach while he danced around like an idiot, feeling his taught stomach beneath my fingers.”