Fantasy in Death (In Death, #30)

by J.D. Robb

“My guy’s so slimy if I stepped on him I wouldn’t wipe him off my shoe, I’d just incinerate the shoe.

Looool

“Not at the moment. Where’s your candy?” “What candy?” He gave her a look. “I know very well you hide candy in here. I need a boost. Give it over.” Her frown deepened, and she tracked her gaze toward the door. “Don’t let anybody come in. It’s a damn good hiding place.” “You know, you could easily rig a cam in here, and catch whoever’s lifting your stash in the act.” “One day I’ll catch the candy thief, but it’ll be by guile and wit, not technology. It’s a matter of pride and principle now.”

I love the little candy thief thread. I wonder who it will turn out to be. Maybe Feeney.

And he and Var got into it about the direction of this new game. It was technical, so Bart didn’t really say what. Just about how they weren’t going off mission statement, and not everything should reach its full potential. That’s a weird thing to say, isn’t it?” “Yeah. What did he mean?” “I don’t know. He just said U-Play was about play, and that was that.

Hmm. Var found a way to push the holo to realism. Real injuries...

“Christ Jesus, Eve. The girl’s shattered like glass, and it’ll take a bloody miracle to put her together again. And you’re standing here talking about fucking games?” She met fire with ice. “Obviously your heartstrings are playing a tune.” “It might be because I have them,” he shot back. “Because I’m not so caught up trying to win some shagging game that I consider a young woman a logical sacrifice. She’s still alive, Lieutenant. She’s not on your side of the board yet.” “Why don’t you go back to the waiting area. You can all join hands. Maybe hold a prayer meeting. You go ahead and do that while the one who put her in the OR is chuckling up his sleeve. I’ve got better things to do.”

That is REALLY shitty of Roarke. He knows her better than that.

She glanced back as the door opened, saw Roarke come in, then turned her attention back to the screen. “I have no excuse for that,” he began. “Absolutely no excuse for saying those things to you. I’m unspeakably sorry, Eve.” “Forget it.” “I can’t. I won’t.” He walked to her, stood with her, but didn’t touch. “And still I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Goddamn right, buddy

While she waited, she tried out her theory with a probability run, and got back a percentage she considered the computer equivalent of Have you lost your freaking mind?

Looooool