What Are You?" I Rasped. It Smiled.

And I’m Not Spying! I’m Evaluating!” “it’s The Same Difference!

Rachel,” Came A Raspy Voice From The Upper Level, And Both Trent And I Turned. It Was Quen, Wrapped In A Blanket As If It Was A Death Shroud, The Black-haired Intern At His Side, Supporting Him. His Hair Was Plastered To His Skull With Sweat, And I Could See Him Wavering As He Stood There. “don’t Touch Trenton,” He Said, His Gravelly Voice Clear In The Hush, “or I’m Going To Have To Come Down There…and Smack You Around.

I Want…” He Said, Then Hesitated, Taking A Breath Of Air And Lifting His Chin. “i Want One Pure Thing In My Life,” He Said Loudly, His Voice Ringing In The Red-tinted Air. “i Want One Thing I Can Point To And Say, ‘that Is Good, And It’s A Part Of Me.

And What’s Important To You?” I Asked. Marshal Thought While We Maneuvered Around Darth Vader, Who Was Struggling To Keep From Hitting The Wall With His Helmet Blocking His Vision. “success At Work. Having Fun Doing It. Caring For Someone And Supporting Their Interests Because You Like To See Them Happy. Having Them Care About And Support Yours Simply Because They Want To See You Happy.

What Was It With Me And Organized Beatings, Anyway?