Patch Wasn't The Kind Of

Mr. Green Sweater Looks Normal, But His Wingman Looks Hard-core Bad Boy,” Said Vee. “emits A Certain Don’t-mess-with-me Signal. Tell Me He Doesn’t Look Like Dracula’s Spawn. Tell Me I’m Imagining Things.

I Held Out My Hot Dog, Which Had Grown Cold. “do You Want This?” “no Way. You’re Going To Need It. If Anything Bad Happens, Just Take A Bite. Ten Seconds Later, You’ll Feel All Warm And Happy Inside.

I Hung My Fingertips On His Waistband, Tugging Him Closer. Patch Buried His Face In The Curve Of My Shoulder, His Hands Flexing Over My Back. He Gave A Low Groan. "i Love You," He Murmured Into My Hair. "i'm Happier Right Now Than I Ever Remember Being.

Since We're Keeping It Primal, You Smell Good," He Observed. "it's Called A Shower...," I Began Automatically, Then Trailed Off. My Memory Snagged, Taken Aback By A Compelling And Forceful Sense Of Undue Familiarity. "soap, Shampoo, Hot Water," I Added, Almost As An Afterthought. "naked. I Know The Drill," Jev Said, Something Unreadeble Passing Over His Eyes.

Anything Was Better Than Nothing. Half-full Was Better Than Empty. Ignorance Was The Lowest Form Of Humiliation And Suffering.