“Not Magnus himself, who was more of a cross between a panther and a demented elf.”

“But the name Magnus Bane made him think of a towering sort of figure, with huge shoulders and formal purple warlock’s robes, calling down fire and lightning. Not Magnus himself, who was more of a cross between a panther and a demented elf.”

“Magnus reached out to touch Alec, but Alec moved away. Magnus' hand fall to himself.”

“Joy is a subtle elf; I think one's happiest when he forgets himself.”

“He lost himself somewhere on the harmless side of lunacy, slightly south of innocuous but definetly north of demented.”

“Alec cleared his throat. He felt dizzy, but he also felt alive — blood rushing through his veins like traffic at top speed, everything seemingly almost too brightly colored. As he stepped through the door, he turned and looked at Magnus, who was watching him bemusedly. He reached forward and took hold of the front of Magnus’ t-shirt and dragged the warlock toward him. Magnus stumbled against him, and Alec kissed him, hard and fast and messy and unpracticed, but with everything he had. He pulled Magnus against him, his own hand between them, and felt Magnus’ heart stutter in his chest.He broke off the kiss, and drew back.“Friday,” he said, and let Magnus go. He backed away, down the landing, Magnus looking after him. The warlock crossed his arms over his shirt — wrinkled where Alec had grabbed it — and shook his head, grinning.”