(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

Morte snickered, "Come on. It's the oldest story in the book. Boy meets girl,
girl stabs boy, girl and boy share knickers for a night and have awkward
pillow-talk in the morning. It's soooo obvious."
Go for the eyes go for the eyes- "I don't know what yer talkin' about!" she
growled, her voice rising in pitch, "Do yeh think I like travelin' with him? Do
yeh?! 'is life's a right mess it is, all scarred-up an' ugly like 'is skin."
"Thank the Powers he has a nice personality."
"One o' these days, skull, I'm goin' ta wire yer jaw shut," Annah snapped,
downing her drink. She slammed the mug on the counter, "Do yeh have
anythin' stronger?"
"You do whatever you want, tiefling," Morte's lighthearted tone dropped,
and Annah looked up. For a moment he seemed- different somehow, "I've
been with the chief a long time. I know a lot about him, and a lot about
women, and trust me when I say this: he's not your type."
"Oh this is rich, it is."
"I mean it. Romance isn't for mortal folk. When you're young it's all about
finding the right sod, going through this one and that, never quite finding
the perfect one. And as the years go by and you start to sag all you can think
about is that you don't wanna be alone. At that point you'll grab any berk
you can find and you sink those talons into him... and that's the one you'll
stick with for life."
Annah fell silent.
"Face it. For mortals, love is all about being desperate. You just don't have
the time that he has to escape it."
Annah's lip curled into a sneer, "Every word yeh say just gets stupider,
doesn't it?"
"Hey, fine, your choice. But if you do happen to do a sheet-warming session
you'll let me watch, right?"
"Shut up, skull!"
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