The Question Was Which Spell

A Gun I Had Been Brought Down By A Gun. It Was Practically Comical. Cheaters, I Thought. I’d Spent My Life Focusing On Hand To Hand Combat, Learning To Dodge Fangs And Powerful Hands That Could Snap My Neck. A Gun? It Was So… Well, Easy. Should I Be Insulted? I Didn’t Know. Did It Matter? I Didn’t Know That Either. All I Knew In That Moment Was That I Was Going To Die, Regardless.

I'm Backing Down Now. I Really Do Love You. That's Why I'm Doing This.

Dreams, Dreams. I Walk Them; I Live Them. I Delude Myself With Them. It's A Wonder I Can Spot Reality Anymore."... He Turned From Me With A Sigh. "i Need A Drink."... "oh, Good. That'll Fix Everything. I'm Glad In A World Gone Mad, You've Still Got Your Old Standbys."... "what Do You Expect Me To Do?" He Asked. "you Could... You Could... Well, Now That You're Here, You Could Help Us. Plus, This Guy We're Meeting. He's Another Spirit User."... "yeah, That's Exactly What I Want. To Help My Girlfriend Get Her Old Boyfriend Back. " He Turned Away Again, And I Heard Him Mutter, "i Need Two Drinks."

Kill Me, Doug. Just Kill Me Now. Put Me Out Of My Misery.” “christ, Kincaid, What Did You Say To Him?” Murmured Doug. “well,” I Told Doug, “i Ripped On His Fans And On How Long It Takes For His Books To Come Out.” Doug Stared At Me, His Expectations Exceeded. “then I Said—not Knowing Who He Was—that I’d Be Seth Mortensen’s Love Slave In Exchange For Advanced Copies Of His Books.

Rose Is In Red, But Never In Blue, Sharp As A Thorn, Fights Like One Too.