Reid Scott Quotes

I know you hated that guy.” “Hate is a strong word,” Scott said. “A strong, accurate word.

You’re happy,” Kip observed. Scott leaned their foreheads together. “I feel invincible right now.” “Me too. Let’s change the fucking world.” Scott kissed him

That would be the... Blue Moon Over Brooklyn?” “Yeah. All the names here are kinda dumb.” The man pointed a long finger at Kip's name tag. “I like your name.” Kip glanced at his own name on the tag, as if he didn't know what it said. Like an idiot.

Thank god,” Huff said. “I thought you were gonna say you were secretly dating Rozanov.” “Rozanov wishes,” Scott said.

How many minutes would I get if I just killed him?” Scott grumbled as he watched Rozanov skate away. “I’d have to give you at least ten,” Hal said dryly. “Not worth it in the playoffs.

There was an urgency in Scott’s eyes, but when he finally leaned in and kissed Kip, it was slow and deliberate. It wasn’t a conversation; it was Scott telling him something important, and making sure Kip was listening.

Yeah.” Scott smiled. He looked up at Kip, and he knew. He knew for sure. Scott Hunter was in love.

Carter looked suddenly delighted. “Kip!” he said. “That is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard! Are you kidding me with that shit?” “Thank god,” Huff said. “I thought you were gonna say you were secretly dating Rozanov.” “Rozanov wishes,” Scott said.

Kip was speechless. And Scott looked absolutely tortured. His eyes were pleading with Kip to understand him. To not make him spell it out.

He looked up at Kip, and he knew. He knew for sure. Scott Hunter was in love.

Scott stroked the backs of his fingers over Kip’s face. “It’s completely selfish, actually. I want to see you in a tux that was tailored to your gorgeous body. I might not be able to dance with you that night, but you’ll know I’ll be wishing I was.

Come on, guys. Rozanov, stop being a dick. Hunter, stop listening to Rozanov.” “How many minutes would I get if I just killed him?” Scott grumbled as he watched Rozanov skate away. “I’d have to give you at least ten,” Hal said dryly. “Not worth it in the playoffs.

You’re allowed to complain.” Scott smiled at him. “I’m really not. It would get me despised by everyone.” “Well

After the door closed, Scott threw himself back against a wall, cursing how fucking hard this was. It wasn’t just being gay, or being famous. It was both of those things combined and knowing that it wasn’t possible to openly be who he was in his line of work.

Scott Hunter was in love.

One of the things Scott really liked about Kip was that he never seemed interested in Scott’s money

He could see the surprise in Kip’s eyes as Scott leaned in and kissed him.

He had adjusted his life to accommodate Scott. What had Scott adjusted?

Scott beamed at him. Scott had been doing a lot of smiling in the past couple of years since he’d fallen in love with Kip Grady.

Who’s your favorite current player?” Harris asked. Troy didn’t hesitate. “Scott Hunter.

Scott envied his teammates. He could only imagine what it would be like to not be burdened by his…otherness. He wished he could just magically be what people expected hockey players to be.

For years, since the eighteenth century, and in each century since, we have said at home, in England, in Whitehall, that the day would come when our rule in India will end, not bloodily, but in peace, in—so we made it seem—a perfect gesture of equality and friendship and love. For years, for nearly a century, the books that Indians have read have been the books of our English radicals, our English liberals. There has been, you see, a seed. A seed planted in the Indian imagination and in the English imagination. Out of it was to come something sane and grave, full of dignity, full of thoughtfulness and kindness and peace and wisdom. For all these qualities are in us, in you, and in me, in old Joseph and Mr. Narayan and Mr. White and I suppose in Brigadier Reid. And they were there too, in Mr. Chaudhuri. For years we have been promising and for years finding means of putting the fulfilment of the promise off until the promise stopped looking like a promise and started looking only like a sinister prevarication, even to me, let alone to Indians who think and feel and know the same as me. And the tragedy is that between us there is this little matter of the colour of the skin, which gets in the way of our seeing through each other’s failings and seeing into each other’s hearts. Because if we saw through them, into them, then we should know. And what we should know is that the promise is a promise and will be fulfilled.” But

Maybe that should be his goal for next year: forget about Shane, and find himself a woman he could like enough to keep around until the end of the playoffs. Ilya reached for the remote, and was about to turn off the television when... Holy shit. Holy. Shit. Scott fucking Hunter was kissing a man. Not, like, one of his teammates on the cheek in an “I love you, bro” kind of way. Scott Hunter was kissing a man wearing street clothes full on the fucking mouth. It looked like tongues were involved. Ilya’s phone buzzed.

Two wives who smiled and shook my hand but whose names I forgot as soon as they’d been given to me. Lovely women who had made lovely children who would keep the Westman-Reid name and bloodline rolling along nicely.

Scott Reid handled myriad tasks for me with quiet care, which led

Carly more or less does a controlled fall with one hand on the rope, using it to slow her fall, and lands in a three point superhero landing like a pro. I follow right behind and am about to land on top of her when she rolls away just in time for me to land only slightly better than a toddler jumping off a bed.

Villain telepaths are no more dangerous than villains of every other stripe; they just have a different way of operating. Instead of hiring henchmen, they control their minds. Instead of beating you into a pulp, they turn your brain into mush. Instead of monologues about how ingenious their plans are, they just put it in your mind how brilliant they are.

Simon Baron-Cohen, The Science of Evil; Judith Beck, Cognitive Behavior Therapy; Louis Cozolino, The Making of a Therapist; Kevin Dutton, The Wisdom of Psychopaths; James Fallon, The Psychopath Inside; Peter and Ginger Ross Breggin, Talking Back to Prozac; Robert D. Hare, Without Conscience; Kent Kiehl, The Psychopath Whisperer; Jane McGregor and Tim McGregor, The Sociopath at the Breakfast Table; J. Reid Meloy, The Psychopathic Mind; Dinah Miller, Annette Hanson, and Steven Roy Daviss, Shrink Rap; Daniel Smith, Monkey Mind; Scott Stossel, My Age of Anxiety; Martha Stout, The Sociopath Next Door; M. E. Thomas, Confessions of a Sociopath; and Robert Whitaker, Mad in America.

Scott’s cock bounced in front of him

Kip. Oh my god.” He strode over to him like he was the first glass of water Scott had had in days.

And that’s when the tears came. Scott let them happen. Everything about the moment was surreal and overwhelming and he had so many thoughts at once. But mostly

Scott wasn’t religious

Yeah.” Scott smiled. He looked up at Kip

And when Scott’s fists had been colliding with that asshole’s face

New York Admiral captain Scott Hunter takes his pregame rituals very seriously. In this case, it's not just a lucky smoothie he's craving - it's the man who made it.

Is Kip happy you are retiring this year?” “Fuck off. I’m not retiring this year.” Ilya widened his eyes in mock surprise. “No? But your body is so old!” “Okay,” Scott said, and began to stand. “Good night, Rozanov.” “Do you remember where your room is?” “Shut up.” “Do you need help?

There’s a place a couple of blocks from here that has great burgers,” Scott said,

Boston had their own star center, a hotshot Russian named Ilya Rozanov. He was cocky, brash, flashy…everything Scott wasn’t. And the fans loved him.

Kip was staring at his mouth. Scott watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

Scott slipped inside

And he knew that Scott Hunter had frantically bought souvenir clothing so he could go on a date with him.

There was an urgency in Scott’s eyes

The suit fit him like a dream: dark blue and slim cut everywhere. You could barely tell it had once been tailored to Scott’s body—had

Scott couldn’t sit still while he waited for Kip.

Grabbing a handful of Scott’s hoodie

He let himself daydream about going to the games as Scott's boyfriend. Sitting in his usual seat, bursting with pride when Scott did something amazing. They would celebrate Scott's big win at home that night. Together