You Might Not Be The

Deftly Whipping A Small Tuning Fork From His Pocket, He Struck It Smartly Against A Pillar And Held It Next To Jamie's Left Ear. Jamie Rolled His Eyes Heavenward, But Shrugged And Obligingly Sang A Note. The Little Man Jerked Back As Though He'd Been Shot.

For So Many Years, For So Long, I Have Been So Many Things, So Many Different Men. But Here," He Said, So Softly I Could Barely Hear Him, "here In The Dark, With You… I Have No Name.

There Are Things That I Canna Tell You, At Least Not Yet. And I'll Ask Nothing Of Ye That Ye Canna Give Me. But What I Would Ask Of Ye---when You Do Tell Me Something, Let It Be The Truth. And I'll Promise Ye The Same. We Have Nothing Now Between Us, Save---respect, Perhaps. And I Think That Respect Has Maybe Room For Secrets, But Not For Lies. Do Ye Agree?

Sometimes Our Best Action Result In Things That Are Most Regrettable.

I'll Leave It To You, Sassenach," He Said Dryly, "to Imagine What It Feels Like To Arrive Unexpectedly In The Midst Of A Brothel, In Possession Of A Verra Large Sausage.