81
" You're Nash's brother. And a grim reaper?" She blinked again, and I readied myself for hysterics, or fear, or laughter. But knowing emma, I should have known better. " So you, what? Kill people? Did you kill me that day in the gym?" She clenched the headrest, her expression an odd mix of anger, awe, and confusion. But there was no disbelief. She'd seen and heard enough of the bizarre following her own temporary death that Tod's admission obviously didn't come as that much of a surprise.Or maybe Nash's Influence was still affecting her a little." No," Tod shook his head firmly, but the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. " I had nothing to do with that. I do kill people, then I reap their souls and take them to be recycled. But only people who are on my list." " So, you're not...dangerous?" His pouty grin deepened into something almost predatory, like the Tod I'd first met two months earlier. " Oh, I'm dangerous...." " Tod..." I warned, as Nash punched his brother in the arm, hard enough to actually hurt. " Just not to you," the reaper finished, shrugging at Emma. " I see you all the time, but you've never seen me, because Kaylee said if I got too close to you, I'd suffer eternity without my balls." " Jeez, Tod!" I shouted, my anger threatening to boil over and scald us all.The reaper leaned closer to Emma and spoke in a stage whisper. " She's not as scary as she thinks she is, but I respect her intent. "
82
" Aaron’s mouth dropped open when he entered the “room;” it was more like a huge open loft … no walls, huge floor to ceiling windows, shiny hardwood floors … perfect for a studio. He had no idea how Jake had acquired such a huge space in Manhattan.
As if reading his mind, Alyson leaned over and whispered, “He bought the place next door and tore down the walls.”
“Perfect,” replied Aaron, “and did he happen to find a treasure chest hidden in one of the walls as well?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, how the holy hell does he afford this place? He looks like he’s twelve.”
“He’s twenty-two, and he happens to be quite successful.”
“At twenty-fucking-two?”
“He was born with talent?” Alyson said questioningly.
“He’s a lucky wanker who blew the right people?” suggested Aaron.
Alyson tried to scowl but grinned instead, “A child prodigy?”
“A deal with the devil?”
“Naturally gifted?”
“An indulgent sugar daddy?”
“How about ‘c) All of the above’?” asked a third voice from behind the partition at the far corner of the studio. "
― , Take My Picture
85
" You're right, my problems are the biggest problems ever," George said. " No, honestly, it's horrible to be me. I'm rich, talented, and I make girls cry." " How do you make girls cry, exactly?" George turned to her. His blue eyes widened. His lovely face took on a forlorn, deeply troubled expression. He leaned forward, and, in a theatrical whisper, said, " My past is tragic. I wouldn't want to burden you with it. It's a pain I must suffer alone. In the rain. In silence. "
92
" Can you sharpen this for me, please?”
Logan leaned across the table and took the pencil from him. “You want me to play with your pencil, Tate?”
“Hilarious. The sharpener is right by you. You just have to pick it up and slide it in.”
As soon as the words left his mouth and Logan’s quirked into an arrogant line, Tate bit his tongue.
“Really? Did you really just say that to me?”
Feeling more comfortable than ever with Logan and this group, Tate shrugged and nodded. Time to give it to Logan as good as he gives.
“Yeah. Is there a problem? You just line it up...and slide it in.”
“You know, Tate—”
“Don't do it.” Tate cut him off as he moved his foot, the one he’d had sitting between Logan’s feet all night, so his shin bumped Logan’s calf.
“Do what?”
“Say something dirty. I know you're dying to, but just sharpen the pencil.”
Logan picked up the sharpener and made a big show of inserting the tip in the hole.
“Jesus,” Shelly muttered from beside Logan. “I thought Rachel and Cole were bad. "
― Ella Frank , Take (Temptation, #2)
94
" Bang! The end of his little finger, now, and three more pieces of the rest. His middle finger was down to the knuckle, almost. Severard stared, his eyes with with horror, his breath coming short, fast gasps. Shock, amazement, stunned terror. Glokta leaned down to his ear. 'I hope you weren't planning to take up the violin, Severard. You'll be lucky if you can play a fucking gong by the time we're done here. "
― Joe Abercrombie , Last Argument of Kings (The First Law, #3)
95
" And just how did you arrive at that remarkable conclusion, Mr. Mayor?" " In a rather simple way. It merely required the use of that much-neglected commodity -- common sense. You see, there is a branch of human knowledge known as symbolic logic, which can be used to prune away all sorts of clogging deadwood that clutters up human language." " What about it?" said Fulham." I applied it. Among other things, I applied it to this document here. I didn't really need to for myself because I knew what it was all about, but I think I can explain it more easily to five physical scientists by symbols rather than by words." Hardin removed a few sheets of paper from the pad under his arm and spread them out. " I didn't do this myself, by the way," he said. " Muller Holk of the Division of Logic has his name signed to the analyses, as you can see." Pirenne leaned over the table to get a better view and Hardin continued: " The message from Anacreon was a simple problem, naturally, for the men who wrote it were men of action rather than men of words. It boils down easily and straightforwardly to the unqualified statement, when in symbols is what you see, and which in words, roughly translated is, 'You give us what we want in a week, or we take it by force.'" There was silence as the five members of the Board ran down the line of symbols, and then Pirenne sat down and coughed uneasily.Hardin said, " No loophole, is there, Dr. Pirenne?" " Doesn't seem to be. "
97
" He saw a square room furnished as a library. The entire section of the walls which he could spy was covered from floor to ceiling with books. There were volumes of every size, every shape, every colour. There were long, narrow books that held themselves like grenadiers at stiff attention. There were short, fat books that stood solidly like aldermen who were going to make speeches and were ashamed but not frightened. There were mediocre books bearing themselves with the carelessness of folk who are never looked at and have consequently no shyness. There were solemn books that seemed to be feeling for their spectacles; and there were tattered, important books that had got dirty because they took snuff, and were tattered because they had been crossed in love and had never married afterwards. There were prim, ancient tomes that were certainly ashamed of their heroines and utterly unable to obtain a divorce from the hussies; and there were lean, rakish volumes that leaned carelessly, or perhaps it was with studied elegance, against their neighbours, murmuring in affected tones, " All heroines are charming to us. "