"Damn, Claire. Warn a guy before you do a face-plant on the floor next time. I could have looked all heroic and caught you or something -Shane"

"Perv."
He pointed to himself. "Male and eighteen. What's your point?"

"I'm gonna kill him," Eve said, or at least that was what it sounded like filtered through the pillow.
Stake him right in the heart, shove garlic up his ass, and-and-"

And what?" (Michael)

When did you get home?" Claire demanded.

Apparently just in time to hear my funeral plans. I especially like the garlic up the ass. It's...different."

"Want to play baseball?’” she asked. Shane’s eyes opened, and he stopped stroking her hair. “What?’” “First base,’” she said. “You’re already there.’” “I’m not running the bases.’” “Well, you could at least steal second.’” “Jeez, Claire. I used to distract myself with sports stats at times like these, but now you’ve gone and ruined it."

"Scoot over, man. I don't like you that much."
"Dick. That's not what you said last night."
"Bite me."