Little Jack Horner sat in a corner, eating a Christmas pie; he put in his thumb, and he took out a plum, and said, “What a good boy am I!”

“I notice you're not keen on folderols.” “Folderols?” Amanda echoed uncomprehendingly. “My grandmother's term for decorative items, pictures, knick-knacks,” Connor's hand swept the room.

But then monikers aren't all that important when you've got it going on like this MC. Even drowning in layers of winter clothes and speaking in a barely-there voice, Murray is clearly the beautifulest, his edgy grace plain for all to see.

a close prisoner