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"It's debatable whether it’s a good thing that the convention is over and you're leaving my city, Mr. Winter." Poole's voice held a faint raspy quality that made Ethan shiver. "Because if you lived here, I would own you."
Ethan considered himself something of a connoisseur of hamburgers.
They'd attended the opening night performance of the Phantom of the Opera and he had been thoroughly disappointed. Then again he was comparing this performance to that of Michael Crawford's as the Phantom in London, where Max had first seen the musical. He should have expected an inferior production here in Vegas.
"We are all prostitutes," Max replied. "The shame isn't in selling yourself but in selling yourself for less than you are worth."
