“We’re both married to Jason-slash-Etrigan, who counts as a single being. Ergo, we’re married by proxy. I’m your wife. Get my book down.”
She’s being rude, definitely, but it’s not like Jim Corrigan hasn’t been flashing her some withering, disgusted look from time to time. Mostly when she mentions Etrigan, but it’s still not very decent of him. “It’s that middle one with the Saxon runes. I need it.”
“Okay, what the hell kinda logic is that? If you and me were handcuffed together, are we one person? Hell, fuckin’, uh, conjoined twins exist, they have the same damn body, and they’re still two people. And, hell, even if they were the same, does that make every chick Etrigan’s been with your exes?” If he needs to do a mental quadrouple backflip to get out of that statement, he will.
“And even if I were your goddamn husband, you’d have to be nice to me too. And that means saying the magic word.”