But It's Not The Name I'd Give

Because I’ve Got A Lot More Terms Of Endearment To Use. Honey Pie. Sugarplum. Bread Pudding," “why Are They All High-calorie Foods?

It’s Okay. Everything’s Going To Be Okay. You Can Let Go Of The Sword." "i Can’t. I Can’t Leave Him Alone. I Have To Protect Him." "you Have.

Um, Thanks,” She Said. It Was Nice To See One Woman Finally Immune To That Accent. That Wasn’t To Say Rose Wasn’t A Sucker For Accents. She Just Preferred Hers From The Other Side Of Europe.

Are You Some Kind Of Mutant Human? Like A Fire User? And I Use Mutant As A Compliment, You Know. I Wouldn’t Think Less Of You.

If I Was Drunk, I Wouldn’t Be Here At All. And Really, This Is Pretty Good For Four White Russians.” “white What?” I Almost Sat Down But Was Afraid The Chair Might Dematerialize Beneath Me. “it’s A Drink,” He Said. “you’d Think I Wouldn’t Be Into Something Named That—you Know, Considering My Own Personal Experience With Russians. But They’re Surprisingly Delicious. The Drinks, Not Real Russians.