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Goodness, Tessa said to the back of his head. If you keep seeing Six-Fingered Nigel like this, he'll expect you to declare your intentions.

Cassandra Clare

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Cassandra Clare
Age: 51
Born: 1973
Born: July 31
Author
Film Producer
Journalist
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
Teheran
Judith Rumelt
Like
Six
Intention
Goodness
Expect
Nigel
Head
Fingered
Seeing
Tessa
Keep
Declare
Back
Intentions

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Nothing less than 7 inches.
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She is fine. She hates us both but it really didn't sound like anything else was wrong
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Magnus had a list of favored traits in a partner-black hair, blue eyes, honest.
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[Magnus] reminded himself of his manners, and bowed. Charmed, he said. Or whatever effect would please you best, I'm sure.
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I see you're trying to distract me from the real point here, Magnus said instead. You had a birthday - a perfect excuse for me to throw one of my famous parties - and you didn't even tell me about it?
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Jem spoke with enormous care talking to Will about anything personal was like trying not to startle away a wild animal.
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Before Simon could answer, he heard the sound of the front door opening. He looked daggers at Jace. That's my roommate. Kyle. Be nice. Jace smiled charmingly. I'm always nice.
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There's nothing wild about me. I'm a solid middle-aged man. Except that once a month you turn into a wolf and go tearing around slaughtering things, Clary said. It could be worse, Luke said. Men my age have been known to purchase expensive sports cars and sleep with supermodels.
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Will remembered the two of them, running through the dark streets of London, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, seraph blades gleaming in their hands hours in the training room, shoving each other into mud puddles, throwing snowballs at Jessamine from behind an ice fort in the courtyard, asleep like puppies on the rug in front of the fire.
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molesting the vampire while he's too weak to fight back, iz? jace asked. i'm pretty sure that violates at least one of the accords.
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Will looked as if he were being asked to believe in something impossible—snow in summertime, a London winter without rain.
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She looked around. They had drifted far away from the bank of the canal. Are we stealing this boat? Stealing' is such an ugly word, he mused. What do you want to call it? He picked her up and swung her around before putting her down. An extreme case of window-shopping.
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Ragnor [was] always happy to see chaos, but not be involved in it.
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The grandeur of the Institute never failed to impress Magnus - the way it towered high and mighty above everything else, timeless and unmoving in its Gothic disapproval of all that was modern and changeable.
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How can you tell? That I like books, I mean. The look on your face when you walked in, somehow I doubted you were that impressed by me.
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Magnus hoped if he ever went mad like that himself, so mad that he poisoned the very air round him and hurt everyone he came into contact with, that there would be someone ho loved him enough to stop him. To kill him, if it came to that.
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What you're blaming yourself for is being who you are. And that's no one's fault and nothing you can change.
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I don’t like keeping her in the dark,” Jace said. “We’ll tell her in a week. What difference does a week make?” Jace gave him a look. “Two weeks ago you were dead.” “Well, I wasn’t suggesting two weeks,” said Sebastian. “That would be insane.
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Fine,” Kyle said. “I’m a werewolf. I’m not part of a pack, but I do have an alliance. Have you heard of the Praetor Lupus?” “I’ve heard of lupus,” said Simon. “Isn’t it a kind of disease?
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Magnus reached out to touch Alec, but Alec moved away. Magnus' hand fall to himself.
Cassandra Clare