50 Questions To Ask Novels & Stories

Lucien leaned back, his fingers gently resting at the base of her spine, with a small, pleased smile playing on his lips. Gerald cleared his throat, in an attempt to regain control. “Is that what you really want to know?” He asked. Eveline nodded without missing a beat of silence. “Yes.” He pursed his lips as he wagged a finger. “I’ve given you five questions. You’re allowed to ask as many as five in a go.” He leaned back, spreading his legs like he was comfortable in his orange get-up. Like he was still in control. “Hit me with all of them. It’s a questions-and-answers session, and I’m sure you have so many things you want closure on.” He smirked.

"It's obvious I'm not asking for your Favorite colors or hobbies you have no use for. All I'm asking about is maybe some dark or deep secrets I ought to know." , any family anywhere? Friends? Or close relationships?" He rushes the question at me with my eyes darting all around the room, I

A smallish, dusty and yet seemingly perfectly functioning corner of my brain conjured up at least two hundred images of possible outcomes should his question be of the carnal variety. Like perhaps whether I might enjoy another quickie against the wall or whether I was interested in taking the copy room for a test drive. From the original two hundred dirty scenarios, there were many offshoots, such as: if we did end up in the copy room, would he allow me to Xerox his ass so I could keep the copy as a souvenir. And if he didn’t let me, whether it would be possible to sneak a copy without him noticing. On and on it went, all in the space of the couple of seconds it took him to wrestle with aski

"Someone who'd take the money and the name and not ask questions. Someone who'd be content with the surface version of this life." "And instead you got me." "Instead I got you. Who asks questions. Who notices things. Who won't settle for easy answers." "Is that a problem?" "I don't know yet. Ask me in six months." We sat in silence. The folders between us like evidence of something broken that had been held together through sheer determination. "Can I ask you something?" I said. "Haven't you been asking me things for the last hour?" "This is different. Personal." "Go ahead."

"He always asks first. He'll frame it as a welfare question. Are you being held against your will, are you free to leave, do you understand what bonding means. He's not unkind. He believes the questions matter." "Do they?" "Yes. Answer them honestly and they cost you nothing." He moved a hand across the table the way he did when he was building something invisible in front of him, a map only he could see. "Halden will ask second, and Halden is not kind. He'll ask the same questions in a different order, looking for a gap between your first answers and your second ones. Don't rush to be consistent. Just be truthful. Truth doesn't need defending twice."

he shrugged but continued, “we had both been trained for the position, so it was easy.” I was quiet. I didn’t know if these questions were helpful or if they just worsened my curiosity. “Five questions are not enough,” I huffed. “Well, that’s all you get. You have one question left,” his expression still smug. “Fine.” I had one question, and there was one thing I was dying to know. Would he answer? There was only one way to find out. “Where is Lucia, your wife?”

“Are you eager to have me in your dorm?” One of the many things Lady Jenis had taught him growing up was the levity of answering questions in a polite conversation. There were different kinds of question a person could come across in such conversations, and she had warned him on how best to ask them as well as respond to them. In summary, he had committed to memory three kinds: the inquisitive, the curios, and the rhetorical. And although there were a few more, he had simply categorized them into those that required answers and those that required they not be answered. Following any of these questions with a response contrary to their requirement was considered rude. So when Ariadne turned h

I asked, I knew my tone berated with annoyance, which was against my earlier plan, and I inhale in gently, almost unnoticed by the other occupant, "There is no list and you are not a conquest."/Damien said, "Oh! So if I am not a conquest, what am I?" I asked, "Your question turn has passed, it's my turn to ask now," He said, Right! I nodded, "What are your kinks?" "Huh?" "What are your kinks, what are your trigger points? Those are the kind of questions you ask in truth or date, why the fuck are you asking me questions as if I am in kindergarten?" He derided,

“What did I miss?” “Can I ask you a personal question?” Lawler asks hesitantly. “Sure, I can choose not to answer it, though, right?” “Right.” He nods in agreement. “This may stir up some emotions, but I just need to make sure I am wrong. I am hoping I am wrong.” I am beginning to feel nervous about whatever it is he is going to ask her. “How did your mom die?” His question is blunt. So blunt that I understand immediately what he is thinking, and we lock eyes.

That’s it. But if she’d stayed away from society, I don’t know if there would be much information for him to find. Furthermore, I’m clearly not an expert, but I have the feeling this is not considered romantic behaviours. But I never really ask questions. What do people ask? Full name, birthdate, blood type, medical history, living relatives, job experiences, and educations? Is ‘have you visited a mental institution in the last five years’, a good question, or is it ‘have you visited a farm in the last fourteen days’? I think the last one means something to airports, but I don’t have a bloody idea what that can be. Or is it more about favorite colours, and food, and movies, and such? She did