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“I needed to say something. Something romantic! Something to sweep her off her feet.
"You're like a potato!" I shouted after her. "In a minefield.”
― Firefight
"You're like a potato!" I shouted after her. "In a minefield.”
― Firefight
“Reckoner Super Plan for Killing Regalia...
Step One: find Regalia, then totally explode her. Lots and Lots.
Step Two: put Val on decaf.
Step Three: Mizzy gets a cookie.”
― Firefight
Step One: find Regalia, then totally explode her. Lots and Lots.
Step Two: put Val on decaf.
Step Three: Mizzy gets a cookie.”
― Firefight
“As she’d left, I’d glanced at her gun.
This time, when she’d pointed it at me, she’d flicked the safety on. If that wasn’t true love, I don’t know what was.”
― Firefight
This time, when she’d pointed it at me, she’d flicked the safety on. If that wasn’t true love, I don’t know what was.”
― Firefight
“I needed to say something. Something romantic! Something to sweep her off her feet.
"You’re like a potato!" I shouted after her. "In a minefield."
She froze in place. Then she spun on me, her face lit by a half-grown fruit. “A potato,” she said flatly. “That’s the best you can do? Seriously?”
“It makes sense,” I said. “Listen. You’re strolling through a minefield, worried about getting blown up. And then you step on something, and you think, ‘I’m dead.’ But it’s just a potato. And you’re so relieved to find something so wonderful when you expected something so awful. That’s what you are. To me.”
“A potato.”
“Sure. French fries? Mashed potatoes? Who doesn’t like potatoes?”
“Plenty of people. Why can’t I be something sweet, like a cake?”
“Because cake wouldn’t grow in a minefield. Obviously.”
She stared down the hallway at me for a few moments, then sat on an overgrown set of roots.
Sparks. She seemed to be crying. Idiot! I thought at myself, scrambling through the foliage. Romantic. You were supposed to be romantic, you slontze! Potatoes weren’t romantic. I should have gone with a carrot.”
― Firefight
"You’re like a potato!" I shouted after her. "In a minefield."
She froze in place. Then she spun on me, her face lit by a half-grown fruit. “A potato,” she said flatly. “That’s the best you can do? Seriously?”
“It makes sense,” I said. “Listen. You’re strolling through a minefield, worried about getting blown up. And then you step on something, and you think, ‘I’m dead.’ But it’s just a potato. And you’re so relieved to find something so wonderful when you expected something so awful. That’s what you are. To me.”
“A potato.”
“Sure. French fries? Mashed potatoes? Who doesn’t like potatoes?”
“Plenty of people. Why can’t I be something sweet, like a cake?”
“Because cake wouldn’t grow in a minefield. Obviously.”
She stared down the hallway at me for a few moments, then sat on an overgrown set of roots.
Sparks. She seemed to be crying. Idiot! I thought at myself, scrambling through the foliage. Romantic. You were supposed to be romantic, you slontze! Potatoes weren’t romantic. I should have gone with a carrot.”
― Firefight
“So, uh,” I said, shuffling from one foot to the other, “want to go with me to check up on Obliteration? If you’re not doing anything else important, I mean.”
She cocked her head. “Did you just invite me on a date … to spy on a deadly Epic planning to destroy the city?”
“Well, I don’t have a lot of experience with dating, but I’ve always heard you’re supposed to pick something you know the girl will enjoy...”
She smiled. “Well, let’s get to it then.”
― Firefight
She cocked her head. “Did you just invite me on a date … to spy on a deadly Epic planning to destroy the city?”
“Well, I don’t have a lot of experience with dating, but I’ve always heard you’re supposed to pick something you know the girl will enjoy...”
She smiled. “Well, let’s get to it then.”
― Firefight
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