It was Sunday morning and the entertainment channel was running a marathon of "How I Met Your Manager."
“You may wear the same uniform, but you certainly are cut from a d i f f e r e n t bolt of cloth than Forrest Oakwood.”
The alley tilted
and spun like a
drunken dancer.
The black spots
came back.
They brought friends.
"I'm SELFISH. I'm not like YOU. I was only thinking of M Y S E L F."
"Well
don't
STOP
now."
The P O I N T was that Marcus had started in on him, and Harry had known many Marcuses. There’d been at least ONE at every school he’d ever been to. Marcuses liked to P O K E things with sticks. If you didn’t stop a Marcus right off the bat with all due and necessary force, he’d leave stick marks all OVER you.
David forgave me. Do you think it matters if I forgive myself?
Lake peered through the tent flap at the tall, aging foursome in torn jeans, leather jackets, and bright red hair. “Who are those guys?”
“The Sandhill Screamers,” Forrest said. “They were a pretty hardcore punk band back in the day, but now they’ll cover just about a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g. if you tip them enough.”
It was the suit, just as tall and
achingly beautiful
as Droje's fractured memory recalled.
He never says anything, but he’s taking some shit out on that p u n c h i n g bag, I can tell you that. Last night I thought he was going to knock the thing loose from the ceiling. He’s like a mountain lion.”
Sari tilted her head to the side, her chin on her hands. “My boyfriend’s so dreamy.”
"We disguise it as something that doesn't look like food."
"Like soy r a t i o n s ?"
Larke dabbed antibiotic ointment on the lip, trying not to notice the velvet texture or the rest of the man's compact, muscular body. He sucked at not noticing
The thing you have to remember about guardians is that while we’re animals who have merged with the human world, they are humans who have merged with the wild. They’re very smart, and that often gets in their way.
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