If you're going to insist on being reasonable, I'm going to stop hanging with you.

Let him go, V. And let him take her where he needs to go."

As Wrath's voice cut through the drama, the urge to go pyrotechnic became nearly irresistible. Like they needed another kibitzer? And fuck-that on the command.

V squeezed the surgeon's collar trash-bag tight. "You are not taking her anywhere--"

The hand on V's shoulder was heavy, and Wrath's voice had an edge like a dagger. "And you're not in charge here. She's my responsibility, not yours."

Wrong thing to say. On so many levels.

"She is my blood," he snarled.

"And I'm the one who put her on that bed. Oh, and I'm also your cocksucking king, so you will do as I command, Vishous.

Written on the mirror, revealed by the steam, were the words, I love you, Jane.

I don’t think my sister is old enough to have sex.”

“V, she’s the same age you are.”

He frowned for a moment. Was she? Or had he been born first?

The guy stroked his goatee. "What do you call twenty guys watching the world series?"
"The New York Yankees," Butch replied.

You want to poof it or ride back with me?