Tacos."
"Tacos?" I echoed.
This seemed to amuse him. "Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese."
"I know what a taco is!

What does ‘hmm’ have to do with anything? Could you ever use more than five words? All this grunting and minced words make you come across—primal.”

His smile tipped higher. “Primal.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Me Jev, you Nora.

Thinking. A process by which I use my brain to make a rational decision.

If I wanted easy, I'd chain myself in hell beside Rixon. The two of us could kick back and soak up the rays together.

I could get you to smile like that, and without sales tax.

Hate to disappoint, but no feathers. I came to Earth stripped naked.