Fone Bone

“It was Will who broke the silence. "Very well. You have me alone in the corrider-"
"Yes, yes," said Tessa impatiently,"and thousands of women all over England would pay handsomely for the privilege of such an opportunity. Can we put aside the display of your wit for a moment? This is important.”
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel

“You cut me,” he said. His voice was pleasant. British. Very ordinary. He looked at his hand with critical interest. “It might be fatal.”
Tessa looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you the Magister?”
He tilted his hand to the side. Blood ran down it, spattering the floor. “Dear me, massive blood loss. Death could be imminent.”
“Are you the Magister?”
“Magister?” He looked mildly surprised by her vehemence. “That means ‘master’ in Latin, doesn’t it?”
“I…” Tessa was feeling increasingly as if she were trapped in a strange dream. “I suppose it does.”
“I’ve mastered many things in life. Navigating the streets of London, dancing the quadrille, the Japanese art of flower arranging, lying at charades, concealing a highly intoxicated state, delighting young women with my charms…”
Tessa stared.
“Alas,” he went on, “no one has ever actually referred to me as ‘the master’, or ‘the magister’, either. More’s the pity…”
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel

“Her eyes met his, but she looked quickly away; entangling gazes with Will was confusing at best, dizzying at worst.”
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“You point your feet out too much when you walk,” Will went on. He was busy polishing an apple on his shirtfront, and appeared not to notice Tessa glaring at him. “Camille walks delicately. Like a faun in the woods. Not like a duck”
“I do not walk like a duck.”
“I like ducks,” Jem observed diplomatically. “Especially the ones in Hyde Park.”
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel