Abby

“Mr. Paggle lifted his own ale in the air. “What shall we toast to?”
“Yarrow’s right hook?” Peer said.
“Bray’s unladylike nerve?” Arlow suggested.
“To new friends,” Yarrow said.
“New friends,” they agreed. Their glasses clinked merrily.”
― March McCarron, Division of the Marked

“Don’t,” her knee narrowly missed connecting with his groin, “call me woman.”
He smiled at her—his blood-stained teeth stark against his soot darkened face.“Why?” She punched him in the jaw and he reeled, but stayed upright.“Did the Chiona steal your gender as well as your likability?”
― March McCarron, Division of the Marked

“I've not spent much time with arrogant little prats.I don't know what sorts of things your kind talk about.”
― March McCarron, Division of the Marked

“You see, but you do not observe.”
― Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, A Scandal in Bohemia