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They all knew Tristan had some kind of persisting aversion to broth.
Me
“I’m obviously delirious from my full-time job as a homicidal academic.”
“I promise,” Gideon sighed, “that I won’t get myself hurt, killed, or otherwise maimed.” “No psychological damage either,” Nico warned. “Takes forever to get trauma out of the drapes.”
Murder first and then scholarly pursuits.
“I won’t fucking forgive him,” Tristan said. “And I won’t forgive anyone else who makes me ask myself if I deserve to live.”
“If you’re trying to reverse-psychology your way into my good graces—” “I am not. Your graces can remain fettered if you wish.
“You know, I like you like this,” she commented aloud. “The lack of fucks is so refreshing.”
right now it was simple, it was easy, because she was sleepy and she didn’t want to cause any damage because she was more interested in fighting her own cerebral dissonance, but eventually her muscles would atrophy and her magic would spasm and she would have fits of explosivity and Ezra would think oh nooooo I forgot I kidnapped a magic girl,
“Not to feed into your whole ‘nobody cares’ thing, but I really don’t give a shit about you.”
“We’ve discussed this.” “I know. But I thought I’d bring it up to the top of your inbox, in case you were saving it for your quarterly review.”
I’ll just assume it’s because you’re a nice person, which I’m guessing is bad for the brand—”
“In fact, I only came here to kill you,” she said, at which point Callum was about to interrupt, to say something along the lines of oh noooo no no that’s what he waaaaaants, don’t do it, señora—
This was just the world. You trusted people, you loved them, you offered them the dignity of your time and the intimacy of your thoughts and the frailty of your hope and they either accepted it and cared for it or they rejected it and destroyed it and in the end, none of it was up to you.
