Pchelik: переводы

→I'd assumed other things before. About Eric. And been wrong.

→Why had I never wondered what that meant before? That he came to fuck and then left? Unlike me, Eric could move around all day, provided he stayed out of direct sunlight. So I figured, anything was an improvement over all the fighting and massive sexual tension we'd always ever known. And because I assumed after the wedding we'd share a room, not just a bed.

→"I know exactly why the infant thinks I shouldn't marry you." He had his back to me, staring at the shelves full of CDs. He'd been sleeping in here for a couple months, but he had yet to move any of his own things in. All his suits and underwear and toiletries (if a vampire needed such things) were in his own room down the hall.

→"Too late now. Listen, I wanted to catch you before you guys went to bed—whereis Sinclair?"

→"I think I liked it better when you weren't talking to me."

→"Totally different thing."

→"This from someone who wears football jerseys to bed."

→"No, I sure didn't. But I could sure spend half the night doing it."

→"Oh, shut the hell up." I stepped to the mirror and admired the navy blue flannel and red polka dots. They were too long in the pants and arms (I'd found them in the men's section, where I frequently shopped because I was so fucking tall), but a few washings should take care of that. And they werewarm . "You didn't come up here to critique my nightwear. At least I hope you didn't. Because, really, how lame would that be?"

→"He sees those, the wedding's off."

→"Us," he corrected. "It's important to keep Marjorie and those like her on our side. When I went to Europe last fall…"

→I can't believe Nick asked you out. For someone who was supposedly into me, he sure got over me pretty damned quick. How could you agree to go out with him when you were sure he liked me? I tried to find a nice way to sum up my weirded-outness in one sentence. It was tough work, being an honest friend. "—I haven't seen you this, uh, excited in a long time."

→"Excuse me," I interrupted. "Sinclair, I haven't forgotten about the florist/eavesdropping thing. And you're weirdly interested in Jessica's date, which I've got problems with on about nine different levels. And Jess, I have to say—" What? What the hell was I going to say?

→"Exactly."

→"So dress well, but not rich," Jess said, oblivious to the massive wrongness we were in the middle of.

→I reeled. There were so many things wrong with that statement I hardly knew where to start with the bitching.

→"We must walk a careful line," Sinclair lectured, "between dressing appropriately for your role, but not making Detective Berry feel out of place or inferior. Which, given the disparity in your incomes, will be difficult at best."

→"It cost a friggin' fortune," Jess said, watching him prowl back and forth like a big panther, "so I'dbetter wear it again."

→"Not every woman can wear it," he admitted.

→"I must say, Sinclair, you are not afraid of color," I commented, trying to affect a Sinclair tone and failing. "Isn't that the one with the green flowers all over it? Head-sized flowers?"