Jack swung the SUV into the sharp turn without even slowing.

The tyres made a screeching hiss on the wet tarmac.

‘Whoa there, Mr Testosterone,’ Ianto said dryly. 'There’s no need to impress me with your crazy stunt driving.’

'Never walk when you can run, Ianto,’ Jack said heartily.

'Never die when you can live,’ Ianto muttered, and then added, 'Oh, I was forgetting – you don’t.’

He stuck his head around the serving hatch and grinned at Ianto and Gwen as they wrestled a ‘glandular’ lady in a plastic tiara back out of the doors and away from her precious buckets of fried bird. 'Having fun?’ he asked, then chuckled at the expressive hand gestures they offered.

'I have bruises,’ said Ianto, 'on places that have never been bruised in the line of duty before.’

'That rather depends on what you consider your duty,’ said Jack, kissing him on the cheek and waving at the large lady now stuck on the outside of the glass.

When you are an adult, you spend a lot of time pretending to be a grown up. You’re not really.

Everyone is still about 14. You just pretend you’re not. You drink beer, you talk about sex, you swear, you buy a house, you have kids, you get a job… you do everything you can to prove how grown up and adult and important you are. But really, really, you’re not.

You’ve no bloody idea how to live your life. You’re just doing what everyone else does in the hopes that you’re somehow doing it right. Shoring yourself up against the real world. The world that was cruel and terrible and took everything away.

Marla shouts to the police that the girl who lives in 8G used to be a lovely charming girl, but the girl is a monster bitch monster. The girl is infectious human waste, and she’s confused and afraid to commit to the wrong thing so she won’t commit to anything.

“The girl in 8G has no faith in herself,” Marla shouts, “and she’s worried that as she grows older, she’ll have fewer and fewer options.”

Louis was home when I reached the flat. I could sense his presence even as I came up the stairs. Only a few hours remained of the night for both of us, but I was so glad to see him that I went directly into the front parlor where he stood at the window, looking out over the Rue Royale below.

The room was full of lighted lamps, and the paintings of Matisse and Monet seemed to be singing on the walls.

He had taken off his bloodsoiled clothes, and wore now a simple turtleneck shirt of black cotton, and black pants. His shoes were old and tattered, but had once been very fine.

He turned as I entered the room, and I took him in my arms. With him, I could give vent to the affection I’d held so severely in check with Merrick. I held him to myself and kissed him as men might do with other men when they are alone. I kissed his dark black hair and kissed his eyes, and then I kissed his lips.