There are some things more important than physical survival. You gotta be able to look at yourself in the mirror.

His dark blue shirt was plastered to his chest, covered with werewolf goop and tears. "Now we both need a bath," I said.
"That can be arranged."
"Please, Jean-Claude, no sexual innuendo until after I'm clean."
"Of course, MA PETITE. It was crude of me tonight. My apologies."
I stared at him. He was being far too nice. Jean-Claude was a lot of things, but nice wasn't one of them.
"If you're up to something, I don't want to know about it. I can't handle any deep, dark plots tonight, okay?"
He smiled and gave a low, sweeping bow, never taking his eyes off me. The way you bow on the judo mat when you're afraid the person may pound you if you look away.
I shook my head. He WAS up to something. Nice to know that not everyone had suddenly become something else. One thing I could always depend on what Jean-Claude. Pain in the ass that he was, he always seemed to be there. Dependable in his own twisted way. Jean-Claude dependable? I must have been more tired than I thought.

Death, jewelry, or magic; it sounded like Valentine's Day.

I was caught between going yippy-skippy i get to play with them both, and running like hell.

Life's a bitch,” I said.
“And then you die,” Larry finished for me.

I felt like shit, but it was happy shit.