Christian Bane

“Of course he loves me. I’m his sister.”
“Blood isn’t love,” said Magnus, and his voice was bitter.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Lost Souls

“Magnus? Magnus Bane?”
“That would be me.” The man blocking the doorway was as tall and thin as a rail, his hair a crown of dense back spikes. Clary guessed from the curse of his sleepy eyes and the gold tone of his evenly tanned skin that he was part Asian. He wore jeans and a black shirt covered with dozens of metal buckles. His eyes were crusted with a raccoon mask of charcoal glitter, his lips painted a dark shade of blue. He raked a ring-laden hand through his spiked hair and regarded them thoughtfully. “Children of the Nephilim,” he said. “Well, well. I don’t recall inviting you. I must have been drunk.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Bones

“I was alive when the Dead Sea was just a lake that was feeling a little poorly.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Ashes

“Magnus's eyes gleamed. "He seems to like you. I saw him going for your hand out there like a squirrel diving for a peanut.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Glass