Now where would the fun in all that other stuff be? No where. That's where. Which only proved that her English lessons hadn't been very successful either. Oh well.
<"It always gets worse before it gets better,"> she said in full cliche except that it was totally and utterly true. Although how much worse... She didn't want to know. A slaughter maybe.
Maeve was not very good at consoling. He knew it, she knew it. Hell, when she'd been on the verge of death, she could distinctly remember a moment when she'd told Cathair to suck it up and be a man. Or maybe that had been a dream. There'd been a lot of dreaming.
She rolled her eyes at him but did not take her hand away, <"Mm, oh surely. Only dreams are like bellybuttons. Everyone's got them and most are full of crap."> She'd gotten that saying totally wrong but she was fairly certain it applied still. Whatever. She wasn't a thinker. He was.