Lord Nouda

“We need to make books cool again. If you go home with somebody and they don't have books, don't fuck them.”
― John Waters

“Listen,” I began, “this is an established, traditional form that—”
“Traditional nothing. Where are your clothes?”
“Clothes?” I said weakly. “I don’t normally bother with them in this guise.”
“Well, you could put on a pair of shorts, at least. You’re not decent.”
“I’m not sure they’d go with the wings….” The demon frowned, blinked. “Hold on, enough of this!”
“Lederhosen would. They’d compliment the leather.”
― Jonathan Stroud, Ptolemy's Gate

“I thought I told you to stop doing that," he snapped.
A thin-lipped mouth opened; the jutting chin and nose knocked together indignantly. "Do what?"
"Taking on such a hideous appearance. I've just had my breakfast."
A section of brow lifted, allowing an eyeball to roll forward with a squelching sound.The face looked
unapologetic."Sorry, mate," it said. "It's just my job."
"Your job is to destroy anyone entering my study without authority. No more, no less."
The door guard considered. "True. But I seek to preempt entry by scaring trespassers away. To my way
of thinking, deterrence is more aesthetically satisfying than punishment."
Mr. Mandrake snorted. "Trespassers apart, you'll likely frighten Ms. Piper here to death."
The face shook from side to side, a process that caused the nose to wobble alarmingly. "Not so. When
she comes alone, I moderate my features. I reserve the full horror for those I consider morally vicious."
"But you just looked that way to me!"
"The contradiction being...?”
― Jonathan Stroud, Ptolemy's Gate

“Fifty years isn’t too bad. With luck you might see it happen when you’re a sweet, old granny, dandling big fat babies on your knee. Actually”—he held up a hand, interrupting Kitty’s cry of protest—“no, that’s wrong. My projection is incorrect.”
“Good.”
“You’ll never be a sweet old granny. Let’s say, ‘sad, lonely old biddy’ instead.”
― Jonathan Stroud, Ptolemy's Gate