Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” she said, “because if you fall off a skyscraper, I’ll be so mad at you.

What are you doing?” I asked Loretta.
“Stabbing a cushion,” she told me.

Are you . . . lost?”
“Not really,” she told him. “We just don’t know where we’re going.

It was going to be our job to annoy someone?”
“I know—it’s a dream come true!

Uh, she said maybe your eyes matched the Fog like a synchronous magnetic field?”
“I don’t even know what language that is.

Did you just call me ‘sweetie’?” I asked.
She shoved my shoulder. “No.