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"Oh, Peter," 3Jane said, with the sort of gentle exasperation ordinarily reserved for children.

You may be the statistical animal, darling, and Case is nothing but, but I possess a quality unquantifiable by its very nature." He drank.
"And what exactly is that, Peter?" Molly asked, her voice flat.
Riviera beamed. "Perversity."
<…>"An enjoyment of the gratuitous act. And I have made a decision, Molly, a wholly gratuitous decision."

"You killed my father," 3Jane said, no change whatever in her tone. "I was watching on the monitors. My mother's eyes, he called them."
"He killed the puppet. It looked like you."

Everything has to be a mystery. Would you have hurt us?"
Case felt Molly hesitate. "I would've killed him. I'd've tried to kill the ninja. Then I was supposed to talk with you."
"Why?" 3Jane asked, tucking the cameo back into one of the djellaba's inner pockets. "And why? And what about?"

Neon worms writhing in her thigh,

"Well, boy, never mind me, I'm just dead anyway."

He remembered fortresses he'd built with other children on rooftops and in flooded sub-basements. A rich kid's hideout, he thought. This kind of roughness was expensive. What they called atmosphere.

His eyes, Case saw, as Molly stepped carefully forward, were tiny monitor screens, each one displaying the blue-gray image of a howling waste of snow,

Straylight reminded Case of deserted early morning shopping centers
<…>Fringe places,

"Okay, then who we gonna be dealing with then? If Armitage is dead, and you're gonna be gone, just who exactly is going to tell me how to get these fucking toxin sacs out of my system? Who's going to get Molly back out of there? I mean, where, where exactly, are all our asses gonna be, we cut you loose from the hardwiring?"