65.

He meets her sitting cross-legged on the bed, sipping something urine-colored from a beaker. Turns out to be apple juice and gin, which she politely offers him and which he less-than-politely declines. Her entire décor appears to be filched from a high school chem lab.

Brooklyn's problem is she knows too much, but she still lives with her parents, so he can't exactly kill her.

66.

MANHATTAN SYNDROME. A neuropsychological disorder wherein the patient feels a need, real or imagined, for all members of the opposite sex to be in love with him/her. Individuals within the patient's realm of familiarity are automatically considered subject to romantic interest, while individuals outside the patient's familiarity are treated as hypothetically attainable, subject to the patient's will. 9 in 10 cases non-fatal. See also: HEART DISEASE.

67.

Most people, they get stabbed in the shoulder, they say something like "ow" or "holymotherfuckingow." Athens just says: "You're getting sloppy."

"Doesn't matter," spits Manchester. "I've found something better... grenades."

Athens rolls her eyes and extracts the blade. "Look, it's not that you're not dangerous. You just lack precision. And it's not. all. about. blood."

"Murderer."

"Sticks and stones..."

"Rapist."

"Getting warmer..."

"Faker."

Athens winces, satisfied. "Attaboy."

68.

London sleeps like a rock. Literally. He's incapable of sleep.

Half the problem is Phoenix mumbling revenge schematics in his unconsciousness; the other half is the spin-off ideas this gives London. Blend with a dozen Hail Marys, cold, and you've got yourself a nice little mixed metaphor, complete with the twist of irony.

He climbs to the ramparts, to see everything. Tonight it's a ship, swiftly moving east.

69.

Bulletproofing the station wagon is maybe the smartest idea Dublin’s ever had.

All jobs thus far: scot-free. Still, says Venice, it doesn’t really count till they’ve done Colombia.

(You know the proverb about life screwing you over? By now, Dublin’s had so much proverbial fucking lemonade he could vomit.)

“Let’s rock’n’roll,” he announces, ignition hot, then spits on the rear view mirror for good luck. “Lot’s wife’s rules apply.”

70.

One night, the maiden finds her sister drunk, throwing stones at an upper window of the monastery. “Havana,” she says gently, “please stop.”

Postergirl of bloodshot heartbreak, Havana stumbles forward. “It’s too late. He’s already coming down. To forgive me.”

The maiden pulls back her sister’s hair, sopping with whiskey and bile. “I thought it was the end?”

“Nah.” Havana smiles, weak and wasted. “That’s the only lie he tells.”

71.

He removes his blue dress shirt, so she removes her blue jeans.

“He’s a child!”

“He’s old enough to commit arson, he’s old enough to have his heart broken.”

(Secretly, Cairo sanctions this logic.) “You could lose your job.”

“You’re thinking of alcohol.”

He removes black jeans. “Uno.”

She sheds a black stocking, so he puts his shirt back on. “I miss Go Fish,” she pouts.

“No, darling, you miss winning.”

72.

The way most people have only one good joke, London tells only one lie.

From the monastery ramparts he sees everything – countryside for miles around; ocean to the west; the past, present, future. And Havana. Occasionally as a vision and more frequently to the east, attempting a self-stoning ritual with the ricochets from his bedroom window. I repent, she screams.

…And the last shall be –

The first step to self-sacrifice is forgetfulness.

73.

Once there was a priest, a prince, and a sailor. It was their poetic misfortune to be in love with the same woman. The maiden gave to the man of God her friendship, to the man of State her kiss, and to the sailor… her heart. It was recompense for his, which she’d broken – quite by accident – before he left. (He left.) Hers is something he values, though he finds it very heavy.

74.

Cairo, who traded his capacity to shock for a speeding train incident, resurfaces, bleeding. “Miss me?”

“Not actively.”

Athens and Cairo aren’t so much in love as they are perfect for each other.

“Whore.”

“You want me to pine for you? You have the life expectancy of yogurt.”

“Boston’s been losing sleep.”

“Boston’s in love with you.”

“Whore!”

“Slut. You already used whore.”

“…Which is what whores are for.”

Athens smirks. “I missed you.”

75.

Reckless endangerment.

As opposed to all the more thoughtful, well-intentioned, responsible sorts of endangerment.

“Just answer the question.”

“Yes,” says Rome. “I would consider myself guilty of reckless endangerment.”

“We clocked you at 216.” Rome beams, can’t help it. It's news to her. “You were wearing a blindfold.”

“Wow,” says Rome.

“Why?”

She’s feeling honest all of a sudden. “Honestly?”

“Yes.”

“To impress a boy.”

These things, says Rome, they’re always to impress a boy.