Two students severely injured, you yourself covered in blood, a Reaper on the premises, a Fenrir wolf running around loose somewhere, and extensive property damage to the resort. Well?" Nickamedes snapped. "What do you have to say for yourself, Gwendolyn?" I thought for a second, then grinned at him. "I followed your directions exactly. I never set one foot outside the hotel.
I eat haughty, arrogant, manipulative, self-important bitches like you for breakfast, sugar. And then I go back for seconds.
Always take the most unexpected route
I used to murder people for money, but these days it’s more of a survival technique.
Can you play the piano like Beethoven? Or sing like Carly Simon? Can you take fie pages' worth of quotes and turn them into a usable story ten minutes before deadline? I don't think so, unless you have more hidden talents I don't know about. We all have our special sills. They don't make us better or worse than each other. Just different
Killing people was far easier than making polite chitchat.
Come on, Gypsy girl. I'm bleeding to death here, in case you haven't noticed. At least make it worth my while and kiss me before I die.
I'm crazy about you, Spartan.
It was better to know what people were really like than put your trust in someone who just wanted to hurt you in the end.
You do realize that the cost of that bracelet is within spitting distance of my going rate as an assassin, right?” “You mean your going rate back when you were actually killing people for money,” Finn said. “Or as I like to call them— the good ole days.
This is really good,” Donovan Caine said, attacking his third strawberry pancake. “You sound surprised,” I said. He shrugged. “I just didn’t think an assassin would be able to cook like this.” “Well, I do get lots of practice with knives. You could say I’m multitasking.” The detective froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. “I’m kidding. I enjoy cooking. It relaxes me.
Etiquette? What kind of etiquette was there in someone trying to murder me?
I did not glow with the thrill of battle. Cringe, yes. Glow, no.
What was it with people always trying to kill me in the library? Nickamedes so needed to put up warning signs. Danger: Working here could be hazardous to your health.
No matter what happens, I'll always come back to you." "Promise?" I asked in a shaky voice. Logan's eyes burned with icy determination. "Promise.
Oh, Finn isn’t an assassin,” I cut in. “He’s much, much worse. He’s a banker.
I will destroy you. No matter how long it takes, no matter what it costs me. I won’t sleep, I won’t eat. I won’t do anything but plot your downfall. I will mow down your men like they’re weeds. I’ll kill so many of them so viciously, so brutally, so horribly that no one will dare to work for you. And sooner or later, I’ll get you too.
I wouldn't say hate, exactly. You're kind of like fungus, Gwen. After a while, you just start growing on people.
You're mine," "Not his. Mine. Only mine. Always mine.
The wolf stared down at me, paws still on my chest, its shaggy tail thumping from side tot side and spraying us both with snow. It seemed like...it expected me to do something. Maybe my mind was completley gone, because there was only one thing I could thing of right now that might satisfy it. I reached up en awkwardly patted the side of its head, since that was al i could reach. "Nice puppy," I whispered, and passed out.
I know that maniacal twinkle in your eye. You're up to something Gwen," he said.
Since coming to Mythos, I'd almost been run through with a sword and mauled to death by a killer kitty cat. Dirty looks didn't faze me anymore.
It'll be okay, I promise. No matter what I see or feel. You'll still be Logan and I'll still be your Gypsy girl.
And that's when I snapped up my left hand and smashed him in the face with the hammer I'd grabbed.
I didn't know if he really meant talk, make out, or something else completely, but I'd be happy with any of them.
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