A Sarcastic Blond Genie With A Bad

I Love Round Tables. They Suit Me So Much Better Than A Square.

Isabelle's Clothes Looked Ridiculous. Clary Had To Roll The Legs On The Jeans Up Several Times Before She Stopped Tripping On Them, And The Plunging Neckline Of The Red Tank Top Only Emphasized Her Lack Of What Eric Would Have Called A "rack.

I Would Have Thought Even A Certified Idiot Like Gabriel Here Would Have Taken Account Of It And Notified Someone." "notified Who?" Asked Jem, Not Unreasonably. He Had Moved Closer To Tessa As The Conversation Had Continued. As They Stood Side By Side, The Backs Of Their Hands Brushed. "the Clave. The Postman. Us. Anyone," Said Will, Shooting An Irritated Look At Gabriel, Who Was Starting To Get Some Color Back And Looked Furious. "i Am Not A Certified Idiot—" "lack Of Certification Hardly Proves Intelligence," Will Muttered.

I Have Mastered Many Things In My Life. Navigating The Streets Of London, Speaking French Without An Accent, Dancing The Quadrille, The Japanese Art Of Flower Arranging, Lying At Charades, Concealing A Highly Intoxicated State, Delighting Young Women With My Charms..." Tessa Stared. "alas," He Went On, "no One Has Ever Actually Referred To Me As 'the Master,' Or 'the Magister,' Either. More's The Pity.

Tessa, Surprising Herself, Let Out A Gasp Of Laughter. Will Looked At Her, His Mouth Just Beginning To Quirk Up In A Grin. "i Must Be More Amusing Than I Thought. Which Would Make Me Very Amusing Indeed.