“Can I take a moment here to tell you both how cute your accents are when you're angry?"Wesley and his father both looked at her, Wesley in shock, his father in disgust."Okay, that's a 'no' then. Carry on.”

“When Søren touched her she became his. When Wesley touched her, she became herself.”

“Wesley looked down at her and Nora could barely meet his brown eyes, which bored into her with the fiery love of a guardian angel. God probably had eyes like Wesley's.....anyone who looked into them wanted to immediately apologize for any and all sins ever committed.”

“God, I know You're probably still pissed about Soren, and I don't really blame You. But please don't take Your wrath out on Wesley. Flog me all You want. He doesn't deserve it.”

“Nothing. I wanted to hit him but hitting a masochist is pretty pointless. Wesley?” She finally looked him full in his face. For a moment his brown eyes turned silver and she saw Michael’s face floating in front of her. “What if I’m a bad person, too?”“You’re not a bad person. If you were a bad person you wouldn’t be sitting fully dressed in a bathtub with no water in it because you’re terrified you might be a bad person. The devil doesn’t worry about going to hell.”“Only because he’s already there.”

“My, my, my…” She sighed, affecting a Southern drawl she no doubt stole from Wesley. “I see temptation has come a knockin’ and you have answered the door…”

“Simple game—he’d fill a wineglass with one of his expensive reds and set it on the edge of the table. Then he would fuck me. Hard.” Nora grinned as Wesley flinched. “If I thrashed too much, or fought him and knocked the glass off…then the wine wasn’t the only red that we spilled that night.”