She raised an eyebrow at him, and then her hand followed. “I pledge allegiance to this group of emotionally unstable boys, who think murder is a love language.” Her sarcasm was so thick it dripped from every word. “There. I’m in.” Scythe leaned in toward X. “That didn’t sound sincere.” He paused a second, then added, “And it is a love language, just for the record.”
