Guilt Was Its Own Prison.

He Used To Talk To Me About Russia All The Time And Had Sworn Up And Down That I'd Love It Here. "to You, It'd Be Like A Fairy Tale," He'd Told Me. "sorry, Comrade. Borg And Out-of-date Music Aren't Part Of Any Happy Ending I've Ever Imagined." "borscht, Not Borg. And I've Seen Your Appetite. If You Were Hungry Enough, You'd Eat It." "so Starvation's Necessary For This Fairy Tale To Work Out?

Christian Stretched Out Beside Her And Pulled Her Close. ʺbut For What Itʹs Worth, I Think Youʹd Be A Great Queen Too, Princess Dragomir.ʺ ʺyouʹre Going To Get Dirty,ʺ She Warned. ʺalready Am. Oh, You Mean From Your Clothes?ʺ He Wrapped His Arms Around Her, Heedless Of Her Damp And Muddy State. ʺi Spent Most Of My Childhood Hiding In A Dusty Attic And Own Exactly One Dress Shirt. You Really Think I Care About This T-shirt?ʺ

He Leaned Closer To Me And Then Seemed Shocked As He Realized What He Was Doing. "why Would You Do That? Why Would You Do That For Me?

Adrian, You're A Genius.

I Disconnected As A Sleepy Seth Stepped Out Of The Bedroom. “who’s Dante? Was That A Collect Call To The Inferno?” “they Won’t Accept The Charges,” I Murmured.