I'm Gonnna Break Your Faces!

Listen,' Thomas Said, Slowly Getting To His Feet, Hoping Minho Wouldn’t Be Stupid Enough To Try Anything. “there’s Something About Us. We’re Not Just Random Shanks Who Showed Up On Your Doorstep. We’re Valuable. Alive, Not Dead.” The Anger On Jorge’s Face Lessened Ever So Slightly. Maybe A Spark Of Curiosity. But What He Said Was 'what’s A Shank?

Whatever Had Happened To Him [newt] Out There — Maybe Even Related To His Lingering Ankle Injury — Had Been Truly Awful.

A Roar Cut Through The Melee: A Booming Growl, A Noise That Might Come Out Of A She-bear Protecting A Cub. It Was Alec- And Suddenly Bodies Were Flying Everywhere.

Kill Me!" And Then Newt's Eyes Cleared, As If He'd Gained One Last Trembling Gasp Of Sanity, And His Voice Softened. "please, Tommy. Please." With His Heart Falling Into A Black Abyss, Thomas Pulled The Trigger.

He Whipped Out His Sheet, Then Pulled It Over Himself And Wrapped It Tightly Around His Face Like An Old Woman In A Shawl. 'how Do I Look?' 'like The Ugliest Shanky Girl I’ve Ever Seen,' Minho Responded. 'you Better Thank The Gods Above You Were Born A Dude.' 'thanks.