Midnight Alley

Perv." He pointed to himself. "Male and eighteen. What's your point?

But that quickly faded, and he frowned. "You're bleeding," he said. "What happened?" Claire sighed and held up her wrist to show him the bandage. "Man, you would be so embarrassed if I said it was something else." Michael looked blank. "I'm a girl, Michael, it could have been all natural, you know. Tampons?

Eve: She told me last! Shane: Boyfriend! Michael: Landlord! Eve: Crap. Right. Next time you sell your soul to the devil, I get first contact!

If you ask me if I'm okay again, I'm going to smack myself in the face just to punish you.

You shouldn't be afraid of me because I'm a vampire. You ought to be scared because you just trash-talked my girlfriend to her face.--Michael

Oliver: You turned me down. So why, I wonder, did you decide Amelie would be a better choice? Claire: She smells better. And she made me cookies.

Where's your sense of adventure?" "Off on a beach somewhere with your sanity?

I like the sound of that, crashing Monica's party," he glanced at Michael, then quickly away. "What about you? That break some kind of vampire rules or something?" "Blow me Shane." "Boys," Eve said primly. "Language. Minor at the table." "Well," Shane said, "I wasn't actually planning to do it." Claire rolled her eyes. "Not like it's the first time I've heard it. Or said it." "You shouldnt say it," Michael said, all seriousness. "No, I mean it. Girls should say 'eat me' not 'blow me'. Wouldn't recommend 'bite me' though. Not around here.

Parents had some kind of sin radar, Claire thought. They always called when you were in the middle of something you just knew they'd consider wrong. Or at least risky.

You know what we call pedestrians in Morganville? Mobile bloodbanks.

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.

He broke the kiss and leaned against her, breathing hard. "Good morning to you, too. Man, I just can't stay mad when you do that.

Monica's eyes were fierce and fiery, but she didn't move, and after a second she turned and ran up the steps to the second floor, where her formally dressed friends were huddled like the cast of Survivor: Abercrombie & Fitch Island.

And about Shane, I swear, if he doesn't snap out of it, I'm going to punch him in the face. Well, punch him in the face and then run like hell." - Eve Rosser

Besides," Shane said "I want to see Monica's face when she catches sight of the two of you. Kodak moment.

Girl, it's an umbrella, not a Lamborghini,

You were leaving, and you didn't even know if I was okay.

And somewhere in heaven, Versace sheds a single, perfect tear.

Trav, if you cross us -- " "I know. You'll get me. I'll try not to pee all over myself in terror.

She smells better," Claire said. "And she made me cookies.

Science is a method, not a religion, yet it can be just as close-minded. Open minds here Claire. Always open minds. Question everything, accept nothing as fact until you prove it for yourself.

How you going to stop me, cupcake? Hit me with your book bag?" "If I have to.

Give the girl some credit. At least she told you, instead of letting you figure it out on your own." "Yeah, and she told me last!" Eve glared at the two boys, hands on her hips. "Boyfriend," Shane said, holding up his hand. "Landlord," Michael chimed in. "Crap," Eve sighed. "I guess that does leave me in last place.

Home," he repeated. "Home is where the heart is. Why don't you leave yours here? I'll take very good care of it.

I'm more worried about you," she said. "You and trouble..." "yeah." She heard the smile in his voice. "We're like that.

His gaze brushed over her, abstract and hungry. "You burn so very brightly, you know" "Yeah," she muttered. "You said.

Shane groaned. "Yo, Drama Princess, want to tone it down a little? Somewhere, Sandra Bernhardt wants her tantrum back.

Claire sighed. She supposed people always did like that sort of girl, and always would. And secretly? She envied Monica's confidence. Maybe just a little, traitorous bit.

She's nice when it suits her. That doesn't mean she's nice.

It's called being polite; they probably didn't teach you that at home. Doesn't mean I like you or anything.