“I’m busy, you’re busy, everybody’s busy. I’ve got a lot I want to say to you, though.” “All right,” Pia told her. “Hit me with it.” “First, I’m so sorry about what my uncle Urien did to you guys. I hate him, he killed my family, and we’re going to cut off his head, and then I have to be Queen, but before that happens let’s do lunch, okay?”

“My god, Anna,” he says. “I almost lost you.” He has me in his powerful grip. I’ve never felt this safe before.“Never let go,” I say, looking into his beautiful gray eyes.“That could be problematic,” he says. “I’ll have to let you go at some point. What if I have to pee? What if you have to pee?”“I don’t care,” I say.“What if I have an important business meeting and I’m holding you and we’re both covered in urine?”I start to cry. “You’re right,” I say, turning my face away from his gaze. “Nothing lasts forever.”

“But what I don’t like — and what I don’t think either Seymour or Buddy would like, either, as a matter of fact — is the way you talk about all these people. I mean you don’t just despise what they represent — you despise them. It’s too damn personal, Franny. I mean it. You get a real little homicidal glint in your eye when you talk about this Tupper, for instance. All this business about his going into the men’s room to muss his hair before he comes in to class. All that. He probably does — it goes with everything else you’ve told me about him. I’m not saying it doesn’t. But it’s none of your business, buddy, what he does with his hair. It would be all right, in a way, if you thought his personal affectations were sort of funny. Or if you felt a tiny bit sorry for him for being insecure enough to give himself a little pathetic goddam glamour. But when you tell me about it — and I’m not fooling, now — you tell me about it as though his hair was a goddamn personal enemy of yours. That is not right — and you know it. If you’re going to to war against the System, just do your shooting like a nice, intelligent girl — because the enemy’s there, and not because you don’t like his hairdo or his goddam necktie.”

“It's none of his business.""You are my business. I made you my business. I want you to be my business.”

“Let’s get drunk,” I state, clinking my glass with his.“Sure you want to do that?” Dorian says with a raised eyebrow. He gives me that look a lot, probably because of all my questionable behavior. “I’m not sure of anything anymore,” I say with a cynical chuckle. “But I know I’m tired of disappointment. And I’m tired of keeping secrets. And I’m tired of fucking things up!”Dorian nods, understanding my frustration. “Do you want me to help you?” he asks quietly. I know what he means. Dorian is offering to fix me like he did the day before.“No,” I shake my head. “I want you to drink with me. Then I want you to do things to me that are as dirty and immoral as I already feel.” I take another hefty gulp and let the searing burn strip away the guilt and shame in my chest. “Ok, let’s get drunk.” And with that Dorian downs the entire contents of his glass and turns on the music.”

“I have my sources." Somehow, saying I'd heard it from my mom sounded less cool. "You've decided, right? I mean, it sounds like a good deal, seeing as she's going to give you fringe benefits..."He gave me a level look. "What happens between her and me is none of your business," he replied crisply.... Dimitri arched an eyebrow, then jerked his head back where we'd come from. "You hang out in his room a lot?" Several retorts popped into my head, and then a golden one took precedence. "What happens between him and me is none of your business." I managed a tone very similar to he one he'd used on me when making a similar comment about him and Tasha.”