“Name.” It was a demand this time, not a question...“Fuck you.”“Good name. I like it. Easy to remember. Mind if I call you Fuck for short?”

“Just one question, you arrogant fucking cocksucker" said Locke. "I'll grant the Lamora part is easy to spot; the truth is, I didn't know about the apt translation when I took the name. I borrowed it from this old sausage dealer who was kind to me once, back in Catchfire before the plague. I just liked the way it sounded."But what the fuck" he said slowly, "ever gave you the idea that Locke was the first name I was actually born with?”

“Open your eyes and say my name.”I squeeze them shut more tightly.“It would make my cock hard to hear you say my name.”My eyes pop open. “Jericho Barrons,” I say sweetly.He makes a pained sound. “Bloody hell, woman, I think a part of me wants to keep you this way.”I touch his face. “I like how I am. I like how you are, too. When you are…What is that word you used? Cooperating.”“Tell me to fuck you.”I smile and comply. We’re back in territory I understand.“You didn’t say my name. Say my name when you tell me to fuck you.”“Fuck me, Jerricho Barrons.”“From now on, you will call me Jericho Barrons every time you speak to me.”

“What are you?” he demanded. “A slayer?" I rolled my eyes. “The name's Val, not Buffy. Do I look like a blond cheerleader with questionable taste in men?”

“Shit. With Qhuinn looking at him like that, he couldn’t remember his own name. Blaysox? Blacklock? Blabberfox? Who the fuck knew…”

“I may not be able to remember your name, but I remember your address and what time you leave in the mornings. Your name isn’t Rob, is it?”