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Excuse me? You're a lady?" "I bought a title on the Internet. I own one square inch of Scotland. And you're changing the subject.
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There were so many layers of reality to the world. Nothing stopped for death; nothing stopped for grief or horror or tragedy.
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He started to touch the mechanism under the keyboard, then pulled his hand back with a snap. "Ah," he said. "Must deactivate the security....Turn around, please." "What?" "Turn around, Claire. It's a secure password!" "You have GOT to be kidding." "Why ever would I joke about that? Please turn.
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Bishop was all done with the witty converstaion. "Will you swear?" And Myrnin said, shockingly, "I will." And he proceeded to, a string of swearwords that made Claire blink. He ended with, "--frothy fool-born apple-john! Cheater of vandals and defiler of dead dogs!" and did another twirl and bow. He looked up with a red, red grin that was more like a leer. "Is that what you meant, my lord?
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Oh -- who's the Queen?" "Her, of course. The White Queen. You're just like Alice, you know. Down the rabbit hole with the Mad Hatter.
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Jeez, Claire. If I didn't love you, you'd scare me.
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Hey,” Shane said from the other side of the bars. “Trade you cigarettes for a chocolate bar.” Funny,” Eve said. She was almost back to her old unGothed self again, though there were still red splotches on her cheeks and around her eyes. “How come you’re always behind bars, troublemaker?” Look who’s talking. I didn’t try to outrun the cops in a hearse.” That hearse had horsepower.” Eve got that moony look in her eyes again. “I love that hearse.
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Another thing I don't want on my tombstone," Shane said. You have others?" Claire asked. He held up one finger. "I thought it wasn't loaded," Shane said. Second finger. "Hand me a match so I can check the gas tank." Third finger. "Killed over ice cream. Basically, any death that requires me to be stupid first.
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I have the feeling I’ve been— unpleasant.
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Keys," she repeated, and slowly stepped back. "What do you mean, keys?" "Car keys. As in, give them up. Now." Shane had that look -- hard, and no bullshit. "We don't have time for your drama, Monica. Nobody does.
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shane:do we have a choice michael:dont think so shane:then screw im gitting tired lets go get eaten.at least then i can get some sleep
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We can be lonely together
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You humans, always eating. I'll make you soup. You can eat it while you keep working." Myrnin set aside his book and walked into the back of the lab. "Don't use the same beaker you used for poisons!" Claire yelled after him. He waved a pale hand. "I mean it!
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Stop being so..." "Charming?Attractive?Irresistible? "I'm going with arrogant.
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When giants fought, ants were crushed.
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You're dead," I repeated. "So why are you in my dream?" He raised the bill of his olive drab ball cap with one finger. " Good question. Morbid, isn't it?" "What?" "Dreaming about dead peolpe. Creepy. You ever see a therapist about that?" "I'm not -" Even in dreams, I couldn't win an argument. Even when he was dead.
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Myrnin, who hadn't said much, suddenly reached out and wrapped his arms around her. She stiffened, shocked, and for a panicked second wondered whether he'd suddenly decided to snack on her neck... but it was just a hug. His body felt cold against hers, and way too close, but then he let go and stepped back. "You've done very well. I'm extremely proud of you," he said. There was a touch of color high in his pale cheeks. "Do go home now. And shower. You reek like the dead." Which, coming from a vampire, was pretty rich.
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Oliver . . . well. Who knew if Oliver’s problem was the disease or just a bad attitude?
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Okay, this was kissing. Serious kissing. Not just a kiss before moving out, not a good-bye, this was Hello, sexy, and wow, she’d never even suspected that it could feel this way.
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The door banged open and Eve rushed out, flushed and mussed and still buttoning her shirt. "It's not what you think." She said. "It was just - oh OK, whatever, it was exactly what you think. Now WHAT?
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What’s her name? Claire, what’s her name?
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Shane - who knows about Shane? Planet Shane is a lovely place a long way from here.
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I have no idea what that is, but yawn, anyway, just on principle. Eat up. Pancakes is brain food. Apparently not grammar food. Wow.You college girls are mean.
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Happy birthday,” she said. “And next time? Eat the stupid cupcake.