I moved my feet in a vague shuffle, and remembered somewhere that when you walked, you moved them alternately. This improved our progress considerably.
Jim ButcherMy brother threw up his hands. "What does a woman need to do, Harry? Rip her clothes off, throw herself on top of you, and shimmy while screaming, 'Do me, baby!'?" he shook his head. "Sometimes you're a frigging idiot.
Jim ButcherTags: dating-advice subtle-hints
Kincaid rounded the far corner. He was dressed in his customary black clothing again, fatigue pants, and a hunting jacket over body armor, and he had enough guns strapped to his body to outfit a terrorist cell, or a Texan nuclear family.
Jim ButcherTags: fashion-statement
She might be the Archive, but she's still a kid, Kincaid."
He frowned and looked at me. "So?"
"So? Kids like cute."
He blinked at me. "Cute?"
"Come on."
I led him downstairs.
On the lower level of the Oceanarium there's an inner ring of exhibits, too, containing both penguins and--wait for it--sea otters.
I mean, come on, sea otters. They open abalone with rocks while floating on their backs.
How much cuter does it get than small, fuzzy, floating, playful tool users with big, soft brown eyes?
Tags: cute
Molly was committing dinner by that time, aided and abetted by Sanya, who seemed to take some kind of grim Russian delight in watching train wrecks in progress.
Jim ButcherKincaid, evidently exhausted himself, drew a gun, took the safety off, placed it on his chest, and went to sleep too.
"It's cute," I whispered to Murphy. "He has a teddy Glock.
Tags: fashion-statement
It took a freaking genius to put this together, Michael."
I hefted my staff.
"Fortunately," I said, and took a two-handed swing at the nearest stand of slender, delicate crystal. It shattered with gratifying ease, and the encasing light around the greater circle began to waver and dissipate. "It only takes a monkey with a big stick to take it apart.
Tags: destruction
The Senior Council--"
"Couldn't find its heart if it had a copy of Grey's Anatomy, X-ray vision, and a stethoscope.
Mister Hendricks [was] manning a rotating-barreled minigun fixed to the deck of the helicopter--completely illegally, of course.
But then, I suppose that's really one major advantage to working with criminals. They just don't care about that sort of thing.
That was the damnedest thing about these demonic collaborator types. Even though they didn't work out and practice, they still got to run faster than we dedicated roadsters who actually sweated and strained for our ability to haul ass. Jerks.
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