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Hello, princess,” said Lord Maccon to the vampire. “Got yourself into quite a pickle this time, didn't you?” Lord Akeldama looked him up and down. “My sweet young naked boy, you are hardly one to talk. Not that I mind, of course.

Gail Carriger

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Gail Carriger
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: May 4
Archaeologist
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Bolinas
California
Looked
Didn
Pickle
Young
Sweet
Pickles
Mind
Boys
Hello
Time
Quite
Princess
Courses
Vampire
Course
Hardly
Lord
Naked
Talk

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She took a moment to lament her lack of parasol. Every time she left the house, she felt keenly the absence of her heretofore ubiquitous accessory.
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Tunstell, this is your Alpha speaking. Do as I tell you. You must regurgitate now. Regurgitation is an involuntary action. You cannot simply order me to do it,” replied Tunstell in a small voice. “I most certainly can. Besides which, you are an actor.” Tunstell grimaced. “I’ve never had cause to vomit onstage.
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Lord Maccon was built like a brick outhouse, with opinions twice as unmoving and often equally full of crap.
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I never gossip. I observe. And then relay my observations to practically everyone.
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Lord Maccon looked up. “Grovel, you say?” Lyall did not glance away from the latest vampire report he was perusing. “Grovel, my lord.
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Even Alexia, spinster that she was, was given an allowance large enough to dress her to the height of fashion— although she did tend to stick to trends a little too precisely. The poor thing could not help it. Her choice of clothing simply lacked soul.
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Alphas simply did not grovel arrogance was part of the job description.
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Floote, what is going on? Do they think I am contagious? Should I assure them I was born with a nose this size?
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Lady Maccon cogitated. She would like to encourage this new spirit of social-mindedness. If Felicity needed anything in her life, it was a cause. Then she might stop nitpicking everyone else.
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She moved with such purpose it was as though she walked with exclamation marks.
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Someone was trying to kill Lady Alexia Maccon. It was most inconvenient, as she was in a dreadful hurry. Given her previous familiarity with near-death experiences and their comparative frequency with regards to her good self, Alexia should probably have allowed extra time for such a predictable happenstance.
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[She] lost her patience, a thing she was all too prone to misplacing.
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I do not giggle without purpose. Lady Linette says you should never misapply a giggle.
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Lord Akeldama sighed. 'You lovebirds, how will I endure such flirtations constantly in my company? How déclassé, Lord Maccon, to love your own wife.
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Ah, Ivy, thought Alexia happily, spreading a verbal fog wherever she goes.
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He was so very large and so very gruff that he rather terrified her, but he always behaved correctly in public, and there was a lot to be said for a man who sported such well-tailored jackets---even if he did change into a ferocious beast once a month.
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How ghastly for her, people actually thinking, with their brains, and right next door. Oh, the travesty of it all.
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Lord Akeldama did so love to know all the gossip about the mundane world, but it was in the manner of a cat amusing himself among the butterflies without a need to interfere should their wings get torn off. They were only butterflies, after all.
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...you have been fraternizing with warewolves overmuch! Military men can be terribly bad for one's verbal concatenation!
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His eyes were jet-colored circles of perpetual disapproval.
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