Just another part of that Spartan killer instinct. I can slay the ladies just as well as I can reapers.

This is an Aston Martin, Gin.You don't run over dead bodies in an Aston Matin.""Tell that to James Bond

This is really good,” Donovan Caine said, attacking his third strawberry pancake. “You sound surprised,” I said. He shrugged. “I just didn’t think an assassin would be able to cook like this.” “Well, I do get lots of practice with knives. You could say I’m multitasking.” The detective froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. “I’m kidding. I enjoy cooking. It relaxes me.

Y’all might as well come on out,” I said. “I know you’re there. I can smell you.”“Smell me? But I just took a shower this morning!” an indignant voice drifted out of the shadows.There was a loud sound, like someone was getting smacked upside the head. Then another voice let out a low mutter.“Shut up, idiot.

All right, baby," Daphne crooned."Talk to Mama and tell me all your secrets. . . .

I know that look. What are you up to, Gwen?""What makes you think I'm up to something?"The Valkyrie snorted. "You're breathing, aren't you?