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He’s not like you, Tod. Aside from a couple of notable exceptions, you tend to think things through, but Nash is ruled by his heart—

Rachel Vincent

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Rachel Vincent
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...sometimes compassion is the greater part of honor.
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I’m glad you think so. I’ve always considered my sense of humor to be largely underappreciated, so it’s nice to finally meet a fan.
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So, we wait until tomorrow night, and when you say the word, I cross over and haul you both out. Right? That's it? With any luck, yes. Luck? We were depending on luck? Nash is so screwed.
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Why do I always have to be the one who says 'stop'? I demanded, my voice little more than a moan. You don't. In fact, at this point I'm considering a petition to that word stricken from the English language. His grin was almost lazy, the gleam in his eyes an effortless challenge. If I did, would you sign?
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When you push someone too far, they will push back and they push hard.
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I've seen this episode. This is the one where Sylvester eats Tweety.
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Marc didn’t want to win by default. He wanted to win for real. Forever.
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I was fine with that. The very idea of Death knowing my name made my skin crawl. Even if this particular Death was only one of many, and almost too pretty to look at.
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I laughed and it almost felt good. Is that a dig at my liquor cabinet? Cam smiled. That wasn't liquor, it was swill. And that wasn't a cabinet, it was a drawer.
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Regret couldn't fix what he's broken. Apologies couldn't bring back what he's lost. What we'd lost.
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He shrugged, looking right into my eyes. Right now, this is all I feel. He held our intertwined hands up for me to see and I wanted to look away, but I couldn't break the hold his gaze had on me, like he could see more than anyone else saw. Things I couldn't see myself.
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He’s like the Rasputin of reapers.
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So,would you say I’m closer to a zombie or a vampire? I gotta know—are my parts going to rot and fall off, or am I forever frozen in youthful perfection?
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I realized that I'd rather die with you than live with someone else.
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But all I said, as I dug a five from my pocket to pay for my soda, was, You have a friend? Tod scowled. Well, I wouldn't call him a friend according to the traditional definition, but in the sense that he imposes on me constantly and isn't afraid to point out my flaws, I'd say he qualifies. Sounds more like a cousin.
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Should I assume the lure is a certain attractive young dead man?
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Most aspects of my training didn’t agree with me. There wasn’t as much bossing around as I’d hoped for, and there was way too much following orders.
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