Lynn Red

“Oh. Dane. That's his name, right?" she asked. "He took our phones and put the shackles on us, but said we could use the phone on the table. I'm not sure if it's some kind of dominance posturing," she trailed off for a moment. "Actually yeah, having been around him for more than thirty seconds, I'm relatively certain that this is one hundred percent, testosterone-laden alpha male posturing. Is Jake like this?""I might be an idiot," I said, "but even I wouldn't fall for this sort of thing. A guy who goes to this length to seem awesome must have a dick the size of a gherkin.”

“Wow," Jake said, his face going blank. "Assface. Is that a technical term? Maybe some kind of psychiatric diagnosis I'm not familiar with?”

“At first I'd tried subtlety, but as it happened, Dane's mind - as fierce and strong and powerful as he was - had about the level of subtlety as a locomotive that went off the tracks and then fell off a cliff. And then hit a tree and a nitroglycerine truck.”