If he just wanted sex from her, everyone knew the fastest approach to that end was just to enquire bluntly if she was interested. She was either willing to kill some time, or she was too busy killing. 

...delayed gratification? “Is that where I tie you to the bed, go out and kill a platoon of ogres before returning to have my wicked way with you?” “Sounds like we have our first anniversary plans already locked and loaded.

Valkyrie? Well, well, aren’t you full of surprises? Not just another blonde bimbo. You’re like a collector’s edition Barbie, with your gold accessories and rather snazzy boots.

Do you get a percentage for every soul you corrupt or is this just how you get your kicks?” I enquired.“Take it as a compliment. I only try to corrupt people I like.

I’m related to one. Can you believe that? It was bad enough thinking I was paranoid, going crazy or maybe just cursed, but to find out Gods are real and that I’m related to one… life sucks lemons and I’ve run out of tequila and salt.

...she was faced with an annoying, irritating Demon. One she wasn’t allowed to kill. Unless she made it look like an accident. But she had a feeling that even the lazy heifers in the Legal Department would get suspicious if she wrote under cause of death; fell on my hatchets seventeen times.

Hey.”  Erik was now eye level with Cara’s breasts and thoroughly enjoying the view.  Maybe he should try and strike up a conversation.  “Come here often?”“Are you talking to my breasts again?”  Cara huffed in exasperation.“Oh… do that again, the huffing thing.”Cara grabbed a fistful of the hair on his clearly undamaged head and yanked so Erik was forced to sit up and make actual eye contact with her.  “I can’t tell if you’re brain damaged or if you’ve always been like this. 

...she was faced with an annoying, irritating Demon. One she wasn’t allowed to kill. Unless she made it look like an accident. But she had a feeling that even the lazy heifers in the Legal Department would get suspicious if she wrote under the cause of death; fell on my hatchets seventeen times.

Ben wasn’t sure when it had all started to go so wrong but it had definitely been the Lemon Puff’s fault. What a screw up. First she brains him in the head with a drawer, then she almost suffocates him, then she pins him to the floor, proving exactly what he knew already, this girl was no lightweight. Being dragged face down across the bank floor by his ankles was no picnic either.