Django Wexler

But it’s not justice that they’re mostly concerned with, it’s division of the loot.

“They were pretty friendly, for dancing skeletons,” Isaac said, waving after them.

“If I’ve learned one thing,” Alice said, “it’s not to judge by appearances.”

“You’re mad,” he said. “You’ve gone mad. There’s no two ways about it.”

“Your mother was the one who helped me,” Alice said.

“Then she’s gone mad too.”

“I apologize for Ashes,” Alice said to Michael. “He’s a cat, and—” She paused, and decided that seemed like a complete description. “He’s a cat.”

“When you’re as old as I am,” Ending said, “one’s nature is largely a product of habit.”

Ashes looked around at the palm trees, the perfect ocean, and the immaculate beach.

“Ugh,” he said. “I’m in hell.”

“He saved me, I saved him,” Alice said. “The usual, really. What else are friends for?”

“If you ask me,” the cat said, “friends ought to keep you out of situations where you need saving.”

“You know, you could be a bit more constructive,” Alice said.

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the magnitude of your insanity,” the cat muttered. “Once I’ve got that handled, I’ll get started on the mind-numbing terror.”

He was, of course, cheating her, that was what lawyers were for.

Maybe that’s wisdom, seeing things that are obvious.

“But didn’t that hurt?”

Dex shrugged. “Pain is an illusion. The body is only a clay vessel holding the immortal essence of the soul, so it is a mistake to attach any import to the difficulties it may encounter. In fact, the whole episode reinforced my fundamental understanding of—“ She caught Alice’s expression. “Yes. It hurt quite a lot.”

Alice scooped the cat into her arms and planted a kiss on his fuzzy forehead.

“What was that for?” Ashes sputtered. “What have I ever done to deserve that?”

“I wanted to say thank you,” Alice said, putting him on the ground. “For everything.”

“Yes, well. Far be it from me to dispute my own heroism,” Ashes muttered. “But proper thanks should involve tuna.”