“How was your day?” she whispered.“It went as expected,” he said. “Mostly. No one died. All of the sentinels went through to the next round, but then nobody believed anything different would occur. Graydon—” His gold eyes danced suddenly. “You know what a big motherfucker Graydon is. He turned into a gryphon, and then he just sat down and looked at his opponent, who forfeited. It was the fastest bout of the day.”

“Will," she said softly, sleepily. "Last night--" You were kind to me, she was going to say. Thank you. The glare from his blue eyes stabbed through her. "There was no last night," he said through his teeth. At that, she sat up straight, almost awake. "Oh, truly? We just went right from one afternoon on through till the next morning? How odd no one else remarked on it. I should think it some miracle, a day with no night--”

“I brought us all Big Macs,” he said happily. “I know you dig ’em, remember?” “What the…” Tohr tightened his grip on his shellan, just in case . . . well, shit, with the way things were going lately, anything could happen. “What are you doing here?” “It’s your lucky day, motherfucker.”

“Rothman gave me another sharp look, and then he looked down at his desk. 'Lou' he said softly, 'do you know how many days a year an ironworker works? Do you know what his life expectancy is? Did you ever see an old ironworker? Did you ever stop to figure that there's all kinds of dying, but only one way of being dead?”

“A dragon just gave me a piece of jewelry,” she said. She took another swig and handed the bottle back to Graydon. “Have I been added to his hoard?”He shook his head and drank too. “No, cupcake,” he said. “I’m pretty sure you’ve replaced it.”

“He wondered where that stuff went to, where love went to, how a person could just love somebody one day and boom –- the next day love somebody else.”