I really hate Squires. (Syra)
(She pulled another flat bolt out and loaded it, then shot it at Otto. Moving so fast he could hardly be seen, the Squire turned around and caught it without flinching. He held the bolt up to his nose and inhaled it lovingly.)
Mmm. Rose. My favorite. (Otto)
Perhaps we should leave you two alone. (Jess)
Yeah, this does remind me a bit of the mating rites of the mean and the surly. (Allen)

Auteur: Sherrilyn Kenyon