Patch's Eyes Were Slate Black, Darker Than

Cooking Isn’t Taught,” Patch Said. “it’s Inherent. Either You’ve Got It Or You Don’t. Like Chemistry. You Think You’re Ready For Chemistry?” I Pressed The Knife Down Through The Tomato; It Split In Two, Each Half Rocking Gently On The Cutting Board. “you Tell Me. Am I Ready For Chemistry?” Patch Made A Deep Sound I Couldn’t Decipher And Grinned.

When I'm Wasted, I Can Almost Forget Who I Am," He Said, His Smile Fading Slightly. "i Know I'm Still There, But Only Barely. It's A Good Place To Be." He Tipped Back The Thermos, Eyes On The Dark Sea Straight Ahead

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

Are You Defending Marcie?” He Shook His Head. “i Don’t Need To. She Handled Herself. You, On The Other Hand…” I Pointed At The Door. “out.

Pac-man? Or Is It Donkey Kong?” In Truth, It Looked A Little More Violent And Military. A Slow Grin Spread Over His Face. “baseball. Think Maybe You Could Stand Behind Me And Give Me A Few Pointers?