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“My name’s Lassiter, and I’ll tell you all you need to know about me. I’m an angel first and a sinner second, and I’m not here for long. I’ll never hurt you, but I’m prepared to make you pretty goddamn uncomfortable if I have to, to get my job done. I like sunsets and long walks on the beach, but my perfect female no longer exists. Oh, and my favorite hobby is annoying the shit out of people. Guess I’m just bred to want to get a rise out of folks—probably the whole resurrection thing.”
Females, after all, were not just the fairer sex, but the fairly reasonable one. Which was the only reason the race had survived this long.
Holy hypoxia, Batman.
Life’s meant to be lived blind—that’s how you don’t take shit for granted.
Courtesy of their tempers, both were now dressed in the Captain Asshole costume—which included, for no extra charge, the cape of disgrace, the booties of shame, and keys to the Fuck Up mobile.
It was the very best that life had to offer anyone: a person to love and be loved by, with whom you carved meaning in the oak trunk of time’s perennial passing.
“If I can live through the events,” she said, “I can get through the memories.”
“You’re beautiful. Every inch of you. Don’t think for a moment there’s anything wrong with you. We clear?”
