“I can handle it. But it stinks, if you ask me, really stinks, that you get to go out somewhere drinking beer while I'm stuck at Baby Central. Just because you have a penis."
"We'll think fondly of you over beer, me and my penis."
She ate a little more, then smiled slowly. "You've still got to be in the birthing room when she pushes it out."
"Shut up, Eve."
"Your penis won't save you then, Pal.”
“The worst, the very worst requirement of friendship, in Eve Dallas's opinion, was sitting through an entire evening of childbirth classes.
What went on there--the sights, the sounds, the assault on all the senses--turned the blood cold.”
“He watched, somewhat fascinated as she swished a slice of bacon through the pool of syrup. His steely-minded cop had the appetite of a five-year-old.”
“A lot of people find rural landscapes relaxing.” “Sure, until you start wondering what’s creeping behind those trees, or slithering along in the grass.”
“Might have to go to London," she murmured. "Huh. Wouldn't it be a kick in the head if I really did have to be out of the country hunting a criminal mastermind when Mavis goes into labor?"
"I, my ass. That goes to we or I'll hurt you”
“Sometimes a well-placed lie saved friendships, and sanity.”
“EVE WASN’T SURE WHAT IT SAID ABOUT HER that she was more comfortable in the morgue than in a baby boutique.”
“Peabody only smiled. Guilt was the best tool, she knew. She’d learned that one at her mother’s knee.”
“I can't be in your place as I don't have a fat, knocked-up ass to sit on. Yeah, you asked me for a major, and if you want to come through on it, you'll sit down, shut up, and let me work. Bitch.”
“I wanted to say something to you, before everything changes again. Because I know this is going to change everything. A good change. An abso mag change, but still. Dallas, you're the best person I know."
"Are you sure you haven't had the drugs already?"
Mavis gave a watery laugh. "I mean it. Leonardo, he's the sweetest, but you're the best. You do what's right, you do what matters, whatever it takes. Your the first of my family, and you really started me on the road. I wouldn't be here, wouldn't be doing this except for you."
"I think Leonardo had more to do with it"
Mavis grinned, rubbed her belly. "Yeah, he had the fun part. I love you. We love you." She too Eve's hand, laid it on her belly. "I wanted to tell you"
"Mavis, if I didn't love you, I'd be a thousand miles from this room.”
“You love them. The fives and twenties and the profit margins, overheads, the trading fees and tax-free fuckwhats.” “I love little more than a tax-free fuckwhat.” “How does anybody keep track of money anyway, when it’s zinging around all over the place? This guy puts it here for five minutes into pork asses, then whap! he kicks the asses and slaps it into gizmos, then shuffles some of that into peanut brittle.” “It’s never wise to put all your eggs into one pork’s ass.”
“You’re not going to stay for the thing?” He took a bite of manicotti. “There’s nothing you could do, say, nothing you could possibly offer—including deviant sexual favors—that would induce me to be within a hundred yards of that baby shower.” “Crap.” She forked up a nice chunk of meatball. “Not even if I combined chocolate sauce with the outfit?” “Not even.” “There could be whipped cream. And choreography.” “An”
“I have always had a suspicion that Aunt Dahlia, while invariably matey and bonhomous and seeming to take pleasure in my society, has a lower opinion of my intelligence than I quite like. Too often it is her practice to address me as ‘fathead’, and if I put forward any little thought or idea or fancy in her hearing it is apt to be greeted with the affectionate but jarring guffaw.”
“Thirty-six years old and he knows less than when he started. With the difference that now he knows how little he'll always know.”
“Every few days the letters arrived, tattered and torn, from Lordsburg, New Mexico. Sometimes entire sentences had been cut out with a razor blade by the censors and the letters did not make any sense. Sometimes they arrived in one piece, but with half of the words blacked out. Always, they were signed, "From Papa, With Love.”
“I've lost my mind," Alex muttered, grabbing her knives again and stomping back across the kitchen. "I woke up this morning a boring little chef on planet earth, and somehow ended up in the Twilight Zone as a third-rate stand-in for Buffy the Vampire Slayer".”
“That was also why I loved being a summoner—there were rules when dealing with demons. Dealing with humans was never simple or straightforward.”
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