I am very sorry LaserWraith.I should not have done that.
Your right i have been thinking about changing my name.
darthfirefox sounds…juvenile
Lol, I was kidding. I’m still not good at sarcasm on forums. One of the reasons I get banned so much. 
DarthPaladin is ok. But don’t you read fantasy books? Find a favorite character or something. 
Some not well known book.
I have to leave darth in there for a special reason but i like it no thanks for the book idea
True. But, then again, not every 5 year old uses someone who is 7 years older (a 12 year old) as a means of sarcastically calling somebody juvenile either.
Sarcasm?
Probably not. 
I’m special.
Well, you’re the expert (and you have access to a whole long thread about me).
You didn’t have to agree with me…
OH ■■■■ i reallly didnt mean to put no thanks i meant i like it now…thanks for…
I know.
I like Harry Dresden’s sarcasm, but I can never get it good myself. >.>
The guard sitting at the desk where Phil had been murdered was expecting me, but not Molly, and he told me she would have to wait. I said I'd wait, too, until Butters verified her. The guard looked sullen about being forced to expend the enormous effort it took to punch an intercom number. He growled into the phone, grunted a few times, then thumped a switch and the security door buzzed. Molly and I went on through.
Murphy checked her watch–a pocket watch with actual clockwork and not a microchip or battery to be found. “Almost four,” she said. “Half a dozen at most?”
“Looks that way,” I agreed.
“And you didn’t see any obvious bad guys.”
“The wacky thing about those bad guys is that you can’t count on them to be obvious. They forget to wax their mustaches and goatees, leave their horns at home, send their black hats to the dry cleaner’s. They’re funny like that.”
Murphy gave me a direct and less-than-amused look.
“It’s awfully coincidental to find her here. She’s a con, Harry, and she wound up in jail because of you. I can’t imagine that she’s making nice with the local magic community for the camaraderie.”
“I didn’t think cops knew about big words like ‘camaraderie,’ Murph. Are you sure you’re a real policeperson?”
She gave me an exasperated glance. “Do you ever stop joking around?”
“I mutter off-color limericks in my sleep.”
I took the matchbox from my pocket and set it on the edge of the table, glanced up at the skull on its shelf, and said, “Bob, up and at em.”
The skull quivered a little on its wooden shelf, and tiny, nebulous orange lights appeared in its empty eyes. There was a sound like a human yawn, and then the skull turned slightly toward me and asked, “What’s up, boss?”
“Evil’s afoot.”
“Well, sure,” Bob said, “because it refuses to learn the metric system. Otherwise it’d be up to a meter by now.”
When he came back out, the smile was gone. We got suited up. Swords and guns and grey cloaks and staves and magical gewgaws left and right, yeehaw. One of these days, I swear, as long as I’m playing supernatural sheriff of Chicago, I’m getting myself some honest-to-God spurs and a ten-gallon hat.
“Eyes open,” I told her. “Use your head.”
“You too,” Molly said.
“Don’t tell him to start new things now,” Ramirez chided her. “You’ll just confuse him.”
She shook her head. “Harry, wouldn’t a decent human being be inquiring after his wounded friends and allies about now?”
“I assumed if there was bad news, you’d have told me already,” I said.
She gave me a steady look. “That,” she said, “is so archetypically male.”
I grinned. “How is everyone?”
“Ramirez is in the hospital. Same floor as Elaine, actually, and we’re watching them both. Unofficially, of course.”
We meaning the cops. Murphy. Good people. “How is he?”
“Still had some surgery to go, when I left, but the doctor said his prognosis was excellent, as long as they can avoid infection. He got his guts opened up by that knife. That can always be tricky.”
I grunted, and had my suspicions about where Molly had gone when she borrowed my car. “He’ll make it. What about that poor no-neck you abused?”
“Mister Hendricks is there with two of those mercenaries. Marcone has some of his people guarding them, too.”
“Cops and robbers,” I said. “One big, happy family.”
I was sitting in my lab, my hand spread open on the table, white the skull examined my palm.
I’d worn a mark there for years–an unblemished patch of skin amidst all the burn scars, in the perfect shape of the angelic sigil that was Lasciel’s name [the fallen angel onces kind of instead of his brain].The mark was gone.
In its place was just an irregular patch of unburned skin.
“It looks like there’s no mark there anymore,” Bob said.
I sighed. “Thank you, Bob,” I said. “It’s good to have a professional opinion.”
“Well, what did you expect?” Bob said. The skull swiveled around on the table and tilted up to look at my face. “Hmmmmm. And you say the entity isn’t responding to you anymore?”
“No. And she’s always jumped every time I said frog.”
“Interesting,” Bob said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, from what you told me, this psychic attack the entity blocked for you was quite severe.”
I shivered, remembering. “Yeah.”“And the process she used to accelerate your brain and shield you was traumatic as well.”
“Right. She said it could cause me brain damage.”“Uh-huh,” Bob said. “I think it did.”
“Huh?”
“See what I mean?” Bob asked cheerfully. “You’re thicker already.”
“Harry get hammer,” I said. “Smash stupid talky skull.”
There are funnier quotes, but I can’t remember them.
Edit: I’m adding some to this post as I’m reading.
;D