Don't diss me, Danvers. I'm warning you.""I'm not dissing you," Claire sighed. "I'm ignoring you. There's a difference. Dissing you implies I think you're actually important
Morley put his hand over his heart and bowed from the waist, a gesture that somehow reminded Claire of Myrnin. It reminded her she missed him, too, which was just wrong. She should not be missing Morganville, or anyone in it. Especially not the crazy boss vampire who’d put fang marks in her neck that would never, ever go away. She was doomed to high-necked shirts because of him. But she did miss him.
Promise me you’ll marry me. Not now. Someday. Because I need to know.” Claire felt a flutter inside, like a bird trying to fly, and a rush of heat that made her dizzy. And something else, something fragile as a soap bubble, and just as beautiful. Joy, in the middle of all this horror and heartbreak. “Yes,” she whispered back. “I promise.” And she kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, while the sun came up and bathed Morganville in one last, shining day.
Okay, that really shouldn't have happened. And we’re not going to talk about that, right? Ever?” “Right,” she said. She felt like there was light dripping from her fingertips. Spilling out of her toes. She felt full of light, in fact, warm buttery sunlight. “Never happened.” He opened his mouth, then closed it, and closed his eyes. “Claire—” “I know.” “Lock the door,” he said.
The New York Times ran a story about [Jeff] Sessions meeting the Russian ambassador, and they ran Claire McCaskill's tweet excoriating Sessions for doing this and saying that he should resign. Well, then it was produced that Claire McCaskill had, in fact, sent two other tweets where she was bragging about having spent time with the Russian ambassador. So the New York Times, rather than print that, just removed her from the whole story.
I think it's important that when people are struggling, that you not run away from them if you love them. Kristen, I mean, I look at the room tonight, you know, Kristen Stewart and Claire Danes, Jennifer Lawrence, all these young women that I worked with who basically were child actors like I was a child actor. And then I feel very protective of them, because even though I think I have managed to get through the process relatively sanely, I have my scars, and I hope to be in some ways a member of their family that's out there protecting them.
I was thinking Claire Danes [wardrobe I was obsessed with], since you said My So-Called Life, but that is a little grungy for me.
Damn, Claire. Warn a guy before you do a face-plant on the floor next time. I could have looked all heroic and caught you or something -Shane
Do these fuels result always and necessarily in one way from the decomposition of a pre-existing organic substance? Is it thus with the hydrocarbons so frequently observed in volcanic eruptions and emanations, and to which M. Ch. Sainte-Claire Deville has called attention in recent years? Finally, must one assign a parralel origin to carbonaceous matter and to hydrocarbons contained in certain meteorites, and which appear to have an origin foreign to our planet? These are questions on which the opinion of many distinguished geologists does not as yet appear to be fixed.
I'll give you one day at a time, Claire. But remember, I'm thousands of days ahead already.
I like cars that are ahead of their times, and that were noble failures because they were built to a higher standard than the consumer needed. Cars like the Wills Sainte Claire or the Duesenberg.
An english baron wed to my daughter? I'll die first, I will." Johanna quit rubbing Claire's shoulder and stepped forward. "A very rich baron," she blurted out. The laird frowned at Johanna with what she thought was indignation. "Wealth is not an issue here," he muttered. "How rich?" They were married an hour later.
And Myrnin seemed quite taken with that, Claire thought; she’d never seen him look at anyone with quite that much admiration. It surprised her that it made her feel a little … what was that? Jealous? Couldn’t be.
If Myrnin pokes his crazy head up before then, call me and try to keep him, you know, stable.' 'Is he UNstable?' 'I don't know, how can I tell? You're the crazy whisperer!' She had a point. Claire couldn't help but smile about that.
Shane said, "Don't worry. I'll protect you." Claire hit him in the shoulder. "I don't need you to protect me." "Then why am I going first?" "So you can take the first punch while I throw the second?" "So I'm bait? Ouch. You've been in Morganville way too long, girl.
Claire, I-Look, my life is one long series of screw-ups and bad decisions, and I know that. I own that. But you...I just want you to be happy. And it cuts me when you're not." "I'm happy with you." She heard the smile in his voice this time. "So what do you really want? A storybook life in Vampireville, with your life on the line every day and a half?" "I'm considering it," she said. And she was.
And then it was between Shane and Claire on who retreated first. "Uou go," he said. "Why?" Shane and Pete exchangedblooks. "Seriously?" Pete asked. "Yeah, she's like that," Shane said, and turned to her. "Because you're my girlfriend, and I'm not going unti; I know you're safe. How's that?
I don't matter here, Shane. I feel like I just don't matter. Stupid, right?" "No," he said. He sounded so gentle it broke her heart. "It's how most people feel most of the time, Claire. You've grown up being special, and this is how most people live their lives...on their own, unnoticed. And they get used to that feeling. It's just new for you.
Take the back door," she said. "Claire, you and your strang friend-" "Eve," they both said simultaneously, and Eve held out her fst for a bump. "Or, you could call me Eve the Great, Mistress of All She Surveys. Eve for short.
micheal sighed and closed his eyes for a moment'i'm not sure that was a good idea claire:it will be if you go see her tonight and tell her well watever oh but watch out shes gone all buffy with the stakes and things
claire:dont do anything dumb or ill kill you myself shane:ouch girl whatever happend to unconditional love around here
Claire found herself staring at his feet, which were in bunny slippers. Myrnin looked down. "What?" he asked. "They're quite comfortable." He lifted on to look at it, and the ears wobbled in the air. "Of course they are," she said. Just when she thought Myrnin was getting his mental act together, he'd do something like that. Or maybe he was just messing with her. He liked to do that, and his dark eyes were fixed on her now, assessing just how weirded-out she was. Which, on the grade scale of zero to Myrnin, wasn't much.
“There is no drama so great as that of a teenage girl,” ... “Except yours.”
I think so,” she [Claire] said. “Just watch your back, okay?” “Nah, Michael’s got mine.” He [Shane] looked straight into her eyes. “I’ve got yours.
She keeps asking me where we're going." "Yeah," another voice said. It was Shane, pulling up a chair beside Claire. "Girls do that. They've always got to be taking the relationship somewhere." "That's not true!" "It is," he said. "I get it; somebody's got to be looking ahead. But it makes guys think they're-" "Closed in," Michael said. "Trapped," Shane added. "Idiots," Claire finished.
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