"Then I guess I'll just have to try biting again" "You wanna try?" He leaned the curve of my cheek. "Let me suggest more appropriate places. I have this piercing."
"Some girl named Eva has him convinced that you put out after one beer." "What?" My voice was as shrill as the ringing tardy bell "I personally don't believe it" he went on blithely, "and I have a Porsche. Not as much leg room as a Beamer, but so much hotter, I'm told."
It had always been Roth; from the moment he swaggered into that d- alley, where I'd been unsuccessfully fighting off a demon, it had been him for me. Maybe I'd been too blind to see that after he returned from the pits. Maybe I had been too angry with him after the way he initially acted.
"But I wasn't done. Staring into eyes that were as bright and beautiful than any tawny jewel, I said what I had never said before. And I said it with every ounce in my being behind it. "I love you, Roth." My voice shook with emotion."I'm in love with you."
"You love Roth," he continued for me."You're in love with him." My eyes met his bright blue ones."Yes," I whispered, my lower lip trembling."It's him. It's always been him."
"And I know things are...screwed up between us. I know that. Even if you tell me you'd rather hump a Nightcrawler's leg than forgive me, I'm still going to be there for you." I pushed myself onto my elbows." You're going to go against Hell-against your boss? He grinned as he shrugged. "Yes." "Why would you risk that?" His eyes met mine. " You know the reason, deep down, you know."
"I dare a lot more than that." Roth's skin seemed to thin his face becoming sharp angles."I will not stand for one hair on her head to be harmed. If you want her, you're going to have to come through me."
"I'm going to be okay." His eyes held mine as he stepped closer lining his booted feet with mine."Nothing is going to happen to me. I promise." "You can't make that promise," I whispered, searching his gaze intently."None of us can." His hands slid back and he curled his fingers in my loose hair. "I can." --
Questo e tutto cio che Faunia, nel suo tono freddo e distaccato, stava dicendo alla ragazza che nutriva il serpente: noi lasciamo una macchia, lasciamo una traccia, lasciamo la nostra impronta. Impurita, crudelta, abuso, errore, escremento, seme: non c'e altro mezzo per essere qui. Nulla a che fare con la disobbedienza. Nulla a che fare con la grazia o la salvezza o la redenzione. E' in ognuno di noi. Insita. Inerente. Qualificante. La macchia che esiste prima del suo segno. Che esiste senza il segno. La macchia cosi intrinseca che non richiede un segno. La macchia che precede la disobbedienza, che comprende la disobbedienza e frustra ogni spiegazione o ogni comprensione. Ecco perche ogni purificazione e uno scherzo. Uno scherzo crudele, se e per questo. La fantasia della purezza e terrificante. E' folle. Cos'e questa brama di purificazione, se non l'aggiunta di nuove impurita? Della macchia Faunia diceva soltanto che era inevitabile. Questo, ovviamente, era il suo punto di vista: siamo creature irrimediabilmente macchiate. Rassegnata all'orribile, elementare imperfezione.