Jeremy Bodden

“Sevro." I lean forward. "Your eyes..."
He leans in close. "Do you like 'em?"
"Bloodydamn. Did you get Carved?"
"By the best in the business. Do you like 'em?"
"They're bloodydamn marvelous. Fit you like a glove."
He punches his hands together. "Glad you said that. Cuz they're yours."
I blanch. "What?"
"They're yours."
"My what?"
"Your eyes!"
"My eyes..."
"Do you want the eyes back?" Sevro asks, suddenly worried. "I can give them back."
"No!" I say. "It's just I forgot how crazy you are."
"Oh." He laughs and slaps my shoulder. "Good. I thought it might be something serious. So I'm prime keeping them?"
"Finders keepers," I say with a shrug.”
― Pierce Brown, Morning Star

“If I step away from her, what is to prevent you from killing me?” “Your death doesn’t belong to me,” Kitai said. “We flipped a coin. I lost.”
― Jim Butcher, Captain's Fury

“Tavi’s borrowed horse shied away from a mound of jabbering crows. Birds cried out in the night, and Tavi smiled slightly.
“You aren’t worrying in the right direction.”
“No?” Ehren asked.
“I’m more worried about some enterprising young Cane who doesn’t see eye to eye with Varg and Nasaug putting a couple of balest bolts through our backs.”
Ehren gave Tavi a sour look. “That’s very reassuring. I’m glad I’m carrying the light. They’ll shoot you first.”
“That’s the spirit,”
― Jim Butcher, Captain's Fury

“Isana stared at Gaius for a moment. Then she said, “How can you live with yourself?”
The First Lord stared at her for a moment, his eyes cold. Then he spoke in a very quiet, precise, measured voice. “I look out my window each day. I look out my window at people who live and breathe. At people who have not been devoured by civil war. At people who have not been ravaged by disease. At people who have not starved to death, who have not been hacked apart by enemies of humanity, at people who are free to lie and steal and plot and complain and accuse and behave in all manner of repugnant ways because the Realm stands. Because law and order stands. Because something other than simple violence shapes the course of their lives. And I look, wife of my son, mother of my heir, at a very few decent people who have had the luxury of living their lives without being called upon to make hideous decisions I would not wish upon my worst enemies, and who consequently find such matters morally appalling when they consider them—because they have not had to be the ones who dealt with them.”
― Jim Butcher, Princeps' Fury