You know the beauty of driving one of these? (Wulf) No. (Cassandra) You can swat a Daimon like a mosquito. (Wulf) Well, since they’re both bloodsucking insects, I say go for it. (Cassandra)
Look at his hair. He looks like his father. (Cassandra) He has your lungs. (Wulf) Oh, please! (Cassandra) Trust me. Every Apollite here knows that my parents were unmarried at my birth, and that if you survive the night, you plan on making me a eunuch. (Wulf)
I’ve even delivered a few of their babies. (Wulf) Really? (Cassandra) Oh, yeah. You have to love the days before modern roads, and hospitals when I was up to my elbows in placenta. (Wulf)
Don’t, Cassandra. (Wulf) Oh, please. I just want to choke her for a few minutes. (Cassandra)
So you guys fought some Daimons, huh? Wish I could. Wulf goes nuts if I even pick up a butter knife. (Chris)
It’s a sun lamp. I thought you might be tired of your pasty-pale complexion. (Chris) Christopher, I happen to be a Viking in the middle of winter in Minnesota. Lack of a deep tan goes with the whole Nordic territory. Why do you think we raided Europe anyway? (Wulf) Because it was there? (Chris) No, we wanted to thaw out. (Wulf)
You can party, but I better not catch you drunk. (Wulf) (Chris rolled his eyes, then bent down to said to Cassandra’s stomach...) Be wise, little guy, stay in there where Lord King Neurotic can’t kill all your fun. (Chris)
Chris would disagree with you. (Wulf) I think Chris would disagree with a signpost. (Cassandra)
Rocking her gently in his arms, Wulf wondered which of them had it worse. The mother who wouldn’t live to see the baby grow, or the father who was damned to watch the baby and all those after him die.’ (Wulf)
I’ll go and help. (Chris) What are we supposed to do with you, Chris? Lob you at them? (Wulf)
What can I get you? (Wulf) How about someone else to have this kid for me? (Cassandra)
Like black, do you? (Cassandra) It serves its purpose. It’s hard to look intimidating in pastels. (Wulf)
I take it that didn’t go well. (Cassandra) About like walking into a bear cave covered in honey. (Wulf)
What an alliance, huh? A Dark-Hunter and a Spathi united to guard an Apollite. Who would have ever imagined? (Wulf) Love makes strange bedfellows. (Acheron) I thought that was politics. (Wulf) It’s both. (Acheron)
Ah, man. (Talon) What? (Wulf) Friggin’ Fabio alert. (Talon) Hey, you’re not too far from the mark either, blondie. (Wulf) Bite me, Viking. (Talon)
How did you know Cassandra was the mother? (Wulf) I know lots of things when I apply myself. (Acheron)