“Hurry up, mundie boy, we've got work to do.”

“All right. Are you going to come back? Do you want any soup?""No," said Jace."Do you think Hodge will want any soup?""No one wants any soup.""I want some soup," Simon said."No, you don't," said Jace. "You just want to sleep with Isabelle."Simon was appalled. "That is not true.""How flattering," Isabelle murmured into the soup, but she was smirking."Oh, yes it is," said Jace. "Go ahead and ask her—then she can turn you down and the rest of us can get on with our lives while you fester in miserable humiliation." He snapped his fingers. "Hurry up, mundie boy, we've got work to do.”

“Mundies die awfully easily, don't they?" "Isabelle, you know it's bad luck to talk about death in a sickroom.”

“The funny thing about mundies is how obsessed with magic they are for a bunch of people who don't even know what the word means.”

“You'd better hurry up to the Gard and back. God knows what depravity we might get up to here without your guidance.”

“Have you tried talking to her?" "No. We've been punching her in the face repeatedly. What? You don't think that will work?”

“I was hoping they'd put up flyers like they do for lost cats," he said. "Missing, one stunningly attractive teenage boy. Answers to 'Jace' or 'Hot Stuff.”