Tmi And

“Step one: Invade your opponet's mind. This is just like using mind-speak. Try it on me."

"That's easy," I said, casting my mental nets toward Dante, ensnaring his mind, and pushing words into his conscious thought. I'm in your mind, having a look around, and it's awfully empty in here.

Wiseacre, Dante returned.

Nobody says that anymore. Speaking of which, how old are you in Nephilim years? I'd never thought to ask.

I swore fealty during Napoleon's invasion of Italy-my homeland.

And that was in what year...? Help me out. I'm not a history buff.

Dante smiled. 1796.

Wow. You're old.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Finale

“Positive. In other news, Marcie's throwing a Halloween party here at the farmhouse."

Patch smiled. "Grey - Millar family drama?"

"The theme is famous couples from history. Could she be any less original? Worse, she's roped my mom into this. They went shopping for decorations today. For three whole hours. It's like they're suddenly best friends." I picked up another apple slice and made a face at it. "Marcie is ruining everything. I wanted Scott to go with Vee, but Marcie already convinced him to go with her." Patch's smile widened.

I aimed my best sulky look at him. "This isn't funny. Marcie is destroying my life. Whose side are you on anyway?"

Patch raised his hands in surrender. "I'm staying out of this.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Finale

“I gave a relenting sigh. "Fine! I'll throw on some clothes. Turn around. I'm in my pj's." Pj's that consisted of nothing but a tank top and boy shorts--an image I didn't want to sear into Scott's mind.

Scott smiled. "I'm a guy. That's like asking a kid not to glance at the candy counter." Ugh. The dimple in his cheek deepened. And it was not in any way cute...”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Silence

“Whatever happened to the dragon?"

I mustered my primmest tone. "He has a name, you know."

Adrian pulled back and gave me a curious look. "I didn't know, actually. What'd you decide on?"

"Hopper." When Adrian laughed, I added, "Best rabbit ever. He'd be proud to know his name is being passed on."
"Yes, I'm sure he would. Did you name the Mustang too?"
"I think you mean the Ivashkinator."

He stared at me in wonder. "I told you I loved you, right?
"Yes," I assured him. "Many times.”
― Richelle Mead, The Indigo Spell