From the Bookshelf of Read with Pride Northwest…

[After someone had spray painted gay epithets on their house:]Roan sighed wearily, and said, “Should I be worried that the spelling errors bother me more than the actual message?”
“You know, when the shock wore off, that’s what I thought. I thought, 'Roan’s going to point out the misspelling and lack of apostrophe.' Do I know you or what?”
“I think you have grounds for divorce right there.”
“I would, if we were properly married. But we have a half-assed civil partnership thing, which isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.”
“Ain’t second-class citizenship grand?”

[Dylan speaking.] “There was an ugly protest outside the Church tonight that turned violent. Bricks were hurled through windows, someone tried to use a Molotov cocktail but set themselves on fire—”
“Awesome. Please tell me that’s on YouTube.”

...Roan was grief, and all those tattoos he had were symbolic of that. There were always three people in this relationship: him, Roan, and the ghost of Paris, and that hadn’t changed.