Would you like to sit?" Kellen asked her."You'd better do it soon," Owen whispered close to her ear, "or I'm going to bend you over that table and break the club's no-penetration-in-the-lounge rule.

Besides," she says, eyes twinkling mischievously, "it'd never work out between us. I'm still holding a candle for Professor Haven.""How could I compete with a middle-aged English professor?""Well," she says, "you could do, but it'd be useless. Something about his receding hairline just drives me mad.

So," she says, "What's got you so busy?""What?" he says, "Oh, um, I was trying to perfect my telepathy." Grace gasps and bulges her eyes out very wide. "Are…you okay?" he asks, finally, after she shows no signs of stopping."I'm pushing a thought towards you, obviously.""Oh," Kellan says, "Well I guess I'm not a telepath after all.

Oh, hey, kettle, I’m pot and wow, you’re black.” - Owen