"Ow," Tony complained when she was suddenly stitching. But he didn't move or pull his arm away. He fought with the urge to reach out and rub at the wound and the fresh stitch. If he touched, he'd probably get a swat, and he'd deserve it.

"Here's the secret. Nobody actually knows good wine from bad. I mean, sure, if you've tasted that particular wine before, you can recognize it. But other than that, the good stuff, the crap stuff, there's not a lot of difference. But it would be the good stuff. I want you to know that. I would give you the good stuff."