Well . . ." St. Vincent walked slowly with her to the crowd of dancers. "I'm a wicked man who can, on occasion, be just a bit nice. And I've been searching for a nice girl who can, on occasion, be just a bit wicked.
Don’t kill me,” he sobbed as he lay there. “Oh God, please don’t kill me.”
“If you had let me finish,” Skulduggery said, slightly annoyed, “you would have heard me say, ‘Come out, we’re not
going to hurt you’. Idiot.”
“He probably wouldn’t have said idiot,” Valkyrie told the sobbing man. “We’re trying our best to be nice.”
The man blinked through his tears, and looked up.
“You’re... You’re not going to kill me?”
“No, we’re not,” Valkyrie said gently, “so long as you wipe your nose right now.
We may be happy but just don’t know it yet. Many want to rebuke themselves for not finding the threshold of well being, since they simply haven’t learnt to be nice to themselves and to enjoy the privileged twinklings of lif
People should be nice to you, Leonard. You're a human being. You should expect people to be nice.
I'm telling you this for one reason and one reason only: No matter how sure you are of someone's love, it's always nice to hear it.
To be fair to Monica," I said, "what you did to her wasn't very nice either."
"What'd I do to her?" he asked, defensive.
"You know, going blind and everything."
"But that's not my fault," Isaac said.
"I'm not saying it was your fault. I'm saying it wasn't nice.