I'm going back to sleep,' she said, lying back down. 'I shall see if there's anyone interesting asleep in America.'
'That seems rather like a contradiction in terms, ma'am.'
'God, you're such a snob.
She was tall, and dressed in the kind of casual clothes that will let you kill someone easily and won't draw attention from passersby. Khakis are good for this sort of thing.
Daniel O'MalleyWe were ushered into the special reception room that important people go to so they won't have to ensure Customs. It's luxurious and private, and you don't have to mingle with the public. It's the room that you wait in if you are very, very powerful and once got shitfaced with Joseph of Arimathea. Or if you are Mick Jagger.
Daniel O'MalleyOh, well, thanks an awful lot, Thomas, Myfanwy thought bitterly. It sounds like I'm the Defense Minister of Ghosts and Goblins, but as long as the job is "all fairly self-explanatory," I've no doubt it will be fine. The country might get overrun by brownies and talking trees, but what the hell--there's always Australia!
Daniel O'MalleyI want to have the whole English experience. High tea, supervising manifestations, taking the waters, going to Harrods, discussing possible international conspiracies.
Daniel O'MalleyShe was trying to find the section that described the penalties for treason. She'd browsed through the section at one point and vaguely recalled a long list of punishments culminating with the guilty party being ritually trampled to death by the population of the village of Avebury, which seemed unlikely, or at least somewhat difficult to arrange.
Daniel O'MalleyStichwörter: punishment treason
Checquy statistics indicate that 15 percent of all men in hats are concealing horns.
Daniel O'MalleyI've always been a pretty good researcher," said Bronwyn modestly.
Oh, so that we share, thought Myfanwy, but you didn't inherit the power to make people shit themselves. You've got to love the randomness of genetics.
Stichwörter: genetics superpowers
You look like Cinderella," said Val in awe.
"Yeah, if she'd been into bondage and had Christian Dior for a godmother.
Behind me, Ingrid made a sort of muffled snorting sound. I can only assume she was choking on a breath mint. I shot her a look, hoping she hadn't heard anything, and saw she was wearing a poker face, which could only mean she'd heard everything.
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