My Name's Jet Steele.

A Gun. I Had Been Brought Down By A Gun. It Was Practically Comical. Cheaters, I Thought.

You Forget: I Have An Addictive Personality. I'm Addicted To You. Somehow I Think You Could Do All Sorts Of Bad Things To Me, And I'd Still Come Back To You. Just Keep Things Honest, Okay? Tell Me What You're Feeling. If You're Feeling Something For Dimitri That's Confusing You, Tell Me. We'll Work It Out.

He Watched As I Slipped One Of The Shoes On. "you Have A Guardian Angel." "i Don't Believe In Angels," I Told Him. "i Believe In What I Can Do For Myself." Well Then, You Have An Amazing Body." I Glanced Up At Him With A Questioning Look. "for Healing, I Mean. I Heard About The Accident.

The Future Of Our Relationship Hinged On Advice From A Fifteen-year Old Girl, A Probably Untrue Story From A One-eyed Chihuahua Trainer, And Me Unromantically – Yet Skillfully – Kissing You On Top Of Silverware And China?

Well, If The Excitement's Over, I Think I'll Take A Bath.' 'wow. The Harsh Lifestyle Of A Succubus. I Wish I Had Your Job.' 'hey, Our Side's Always Recruiting. You Might Need To Be A Little Prettier To Be An Incubus, Though. And A Little More Charming.' 'untrue. Mortal Women Go For Jerks. I See It All The Time.' 'touché.