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Oh, Professor Lyall, are you making a funny? It doesn’t suit you.” The sandy-haired Beta gave Lady Maccon a dour look. “I am exploring new personality avenues.” “Well, stop it.” “Yes, my lady.

Gail Carriger

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Gail Carriger
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: May 4
Archaeologist
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Bolinas
California
Wells
Suits
Haired
Well
Gave
Sandy
Looks
Personality
Avenues
Stop
Professor
Funny
Exploring
Making
Professors
Doesn
Suit
Dour
Look
Lady
Beta

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As with most things in life, Lady Maccon preferred the civilized exterior to the dark underbelly (with the exception of pork products, of course.)
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One should do what one is best at on as large a scale as possible.
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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.
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I believe there is a considerable range in the bang of most guns.
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Mrs. Loontwill did what any well-prepared mother would do upon finding her unmarried daughter in the arms of a gentleman werewolf: she had very decorous, and extremely loud, hysterics.
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Alexia,” she hissed to her friend, “there are knees positively everywhere. What do I do?
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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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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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She reached inside the wide ruffle and pulled out a little vial. “Poison?” asked Lady Maccon, tilting her head to one side. “Certainly not. Something far more important: perfume. We cannot very well have you fighting crime unscented, now, can we?” “Oh.” Alexia nodded gravely. After all, Madame Lefoux was French. “Certainly not.
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The important question is, what will your wear for a wedding dress, Alexia? You look horrible in white.
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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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...you have been fraternizing with warewolves overmuch! Military men can be terribly bad for one's verbal concatenation!
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Lord Maccon, might we have words on the proper tying of a cravat? For my sanity’s sake? Lord Maccon was nonplussed. Professor Lyall, on the other hand, was pained. “I do what I can.” Lord Akeldama looked at him, pity in his eyes. “You are a brave man.
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Biffy didn't like enigmas - they were out of fashion.
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His eyes are peculiar. There is nothing in them, like an eclair without the cream filling. It's wrong, lack of cream.
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Alexia had spent long hours wondering over that mustache. Werewolves did not grow hair, as they did not age. Where had it come from? Had he always had it? For how many centuries had his poor abused upper lip labored under the burden of such vegetation?
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Alexia, did you know there is an entire regiment decamping on your front lawn? Laddy Maccon sighed. Really, Ivy, I would never have noticed.
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I never gossip. I observe. And then relay my observations to practically everyone.
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Please, Lord Maccon, use one of the cups. My delicate sensibilities.” The earl actually snorted. “My dear Miss Tarabotti, if you possessed any such things, you certainly have never shown them to me.
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Felicity grimaced in agreement. “No, you are perfectly correct. I did not realize how vital the approbation of one’s butler is in allowing for nocturnal autonomy.
Gail Carriger