Scott Salisbury

“guard glowered at me in silence, of course. It was an act. No one could resist my bluff and manly charisma. In his heart of hearts, he wanted to be friends with me. I just knew it.”
― Jim Butcher, Skin Game

“Think where you are, sir Knight,” Nicodemus said, his mouth quirking up into a mocking smile. “The Underworld is a prison for souls. Do you think yours is so great as to escape it?” “I am not great,” Michael said quietly. “But God is.”
― Jim Butcher, Skin Game

“Gimme a minute,” I said, and felt myself baring my teeth in a grin. “How does the leg feel?” “I’ve had worse,” Michael said, his voice strained. He shifted his weight, testing the leg, and made a hissing sound—but it supported his weight. “Only a flesh wound.” “Yeah,” I said. “’Tis but a scratch. Come on, ya pansy.” He blinked and looked at me. “Pansy?” “Oh,” I said. “You weren’t quoting the movie. Sorry.” “Movie?” “Holy Grail?” “Nicodemus still has it.” I sighed. “Never mind.”
― Jim Butcher, Skin Game

“I hate dreams like this,” I said. “There’s no plot—just random weird things happening. I get enough of that when I’m awake.”
― Jim Butcher, Skin Game