“Alex grinned and then walked past him, murmuring, "I applaud you for your courage."
"Courage?" he asked with confusion.
"Hmm." She headed for the door to the hall, swinging her purse gaily as she went. "Many men find it difficult to come out of the closet.”
“I thought you said that after this many years nothing should embarrass him?" Leigh said with gentle amusement.
Lucian grunted. "I guess he's more sensitive than I thought."
"I am NOT sensitive," Cale snapped, irritated by the very suggestion.
"It's probably his mother's fault," Lucian said, ignoring him. "Martine named him after Caliope, the muse of poetry. Between that and his father dying when he was only fifty, he's probably suffered under Martine's namby-pamby influence.”
“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".”
“I'll talk to Mortimer and see what he thinks, and then get back to you tomorrow. In the meantime, you should really get to sleep and get those shared dreams going."
Cale grimaced at the suggestion, and reminded him, "She has a splitting headache, Bricker."
"I thought that was a married woman's complaint?" Bricker responded quickly, and then laughed at his own joke as he hung up.”
“Dear God, surely you aren't the chef Sam was talking about?"
"No," he said with a laugh, and gestured behind him with a thumb. "Cale here is."
"Kale?" Alex echoed blankly, her eyes sliding to the still half-closed door. She didn't see any evidence of a second man. Frowning, she set the phone back in its receiver and leaned to the side, trying to see out into the kitchen as she muttered, "Kale is a vegetable.”
“Sitting in a van twiddling my thumbs while you bone up is one thing, but attacking her? No way."
"Bone up?" Cale asked uncertainly.
"Get a boner," the man explained, and then added, "Or an erection to those of us too damned old to know modern lingo... not to mention be able to judge character anymore.”
“There comes a day when every girl loses the stars in her eyes. And then she can see clearly.”
“Your character, your heart, your essence, that’s what’s important, because that’s the real you. All the rest, our looks, the material stuff? It's just meaningless bullshit.”
“You idiot! You misbegotten son of a jinn’s meeting with a jackass, may the grave of your maternal grandmother be defiled by the dung of ten thousand syphilitic she-camels!”
“Elspeth had the joyous task of breaking the news to the rest of the Council. There was no such accord among the political leaders of Valdemar as there was among her military leaders.
Lord Gartheser was speechless with outrage and shock; Bard Hyron was dazed. Lady Kester and Lady Cathan, still seething over Orthallen's accusations of complicity with the slavers, were surprised, but not altogether unhappy. Father Aldon had closeted himself in the tiny chapel of the Keep; Lord Gildas was with him. Healer Myrim made no attempt to conceal the fact that Orthallen's treachery had not surprised her. Nor did she conceal that his demise gave her a certain grim satisfaction. But then, she might well be forgiven such uncharitable thoughts; she was one of the four Healers who were tending Talia's wounds.
Once the bare bones had been told to the Councillors as a group, Elspeth went to each of these Councillors in turn, privately. She gave a simple explanation of what had occurred, but would answer no questions. Questions, she told them, must wait until Talia had recovered enough to tell them all more.”
“I think most of us tell ourselves we don't want what we think we can't have just to make life bearable.”
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