Scott Lynch

Butterflies instantly came to life in his stomach, and the little bastards were heavily armed.

One or more wheels were clearly about to fly off the previously smooth-running engine of the guardswoman’s thought processes, and Locke cringed.

Now, what the hell did I just see on Coin-Kisser’s Row? Can either of you translate the fuck-wittery into some sort of vaguely logical account?”

I’m, uh, going up to the room … to get ready.”

“You’ve got at least four hours before we have to leave.”

“Yeah, but if I don’t start my nervous pacing now, I’ll never have it all done in time.”