mon

“You don't even who know I am." "The hell I don't," Wymack said. "You're Neil Josten, nineteen year-old recruit from Millport, Arizona. Born March 31st, five-foot-three, right-handed, stick size three. Starting striker for my Foxes and most improved freshman striker in NCAA Class I Exy. "No," Wymack said, getting louder when Neil started to interrupt. "Look me in the eye and tell me if you think I care who you used to be. Hm?”
― Nora Sakavic, The King's Men

“Can I really be Neil again?" "I told Neil to stay," Andrew said. "Leave Nathaniel buried in Baltimore with his father.”
― Nora Sakavic, The King's Men

“I don't swing either way," Neil said. "Let's go in."
"Bullshit," Nicky said.
"I don't," Neil said, and impatience put an edge in his voice. It wasn't quite the truth, but it was close enough.”
― Nora Sakavic, The Foxhole Court

“I'll always have and be nothing." Andrew reached up and forcibly uncurled Neil's fingers from his mouth. He pushed Neil's hand out of the way and stared Neil down with nothing between them. Neil didn't understand the look on his face. There was no censure over Neil's crooked parents or pity for their deaths, no triumph over having backed Neil into admitting so much, and no obvious skepticism for such an outlandish story. Whatever this look was, it was dark and intense enough to swallow Neil whole.”
― Nora Sakavic, The Foxhole Court