Get off me, Bran!" she howled, her sweet breath brushing his lips when she turned her head to look at him. "If you get yourself killed bein' all heroic and brave, I swear on my granddaddy's grave, I'll murder you!

Whenever she was in his arms, she forgot she even had a name.

She shook her head. "I guess... that begs the question: just how many people have you slept with?"... "All I can say for sure is the number is more than you can count on your fingers and toes. But less than the population of Miami.

I might be bluffing, you miserable, vomitous mass!" Bran yelled. Oh, for heaven's sake. Really? He's quotin' The Princess Bride?

I've never had a problem with a woman who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to ask for it." Even as her heart stuttered, she narrowed her eyes. "Is that supposed to be a come-on?" He lifted his hands and donned an innocent expression. "Wouldn't think of it.

She blinked at him, mouth open. "Do you really think it's wise to insult a woman who's holdin' a needle this far away? - she held her fingers an inch apart - "From your Grand Master of Ceremonies?

(scene: Rock and Vanessa are in a tree house in the Costa Rican jungle) “Placing 9mms inside a pot and securing the lid–capuchin monkeys sometimes snuck in and messed with his stuff, and the last thing he wanted was to accidentally plugged by some light-fingered primate–he turned back around to find Vanessa’s head cocked, her lips pursed.