I'm A Werewolf, Not A Golden Retriever.

Jem’s Eyes Had Widened, And Then He’d Laughed, A Soft Laugh. “did You Think I Did Not Know You Had A Secret?” He’d Said. “did You Think I Walked Into My Friendship With You With My Eyes Shut? I Did Not Know The Nature Of The Burden You Carried. But I Knew There Was A Burden.” He’d Stood Up. “i Knew You Thought Yourself Poison To All Those Around You,” He’d Added. “i Knew You Thought There To Be Some Corruptive Force About You That Would Break Me. I Meant To Show You That I Would Not Break, That Love Was Not So Fragile. Did I Do That?

He Closed His Eyes. “i’m So Tired, Tess,” He Said. “i Only Wanted Pleasant Dreams For Once.” “that Is Not The Way To Get Them, Will,” She Said Softly. “you Cannot Buy Or Drug Or Dream Your Way Out Of Pain.

I'm The One Who's Always Been There For You... Not Him!

This Time Clary Concentrated, Trying To Focus Her Mind On Simon-the Simon-ness Of Him, The Shape Of The Way He Thought, The Feeling Of Hearing His Voice, The Sence Of Him Close. His Whispers, His Secrets, The Way He Made Her Laugh. 'so', She Thought Conversationally, 'now That I'm In Your Mind, Wnat To See Some Naked Mental Pictures Of Jace?' Simon Jumped. "i Heard That! And, No.

Well, Thanks. It Was Nice Of You To Give Me Anything." The Tension Between Them Seemed To Press Down On Her Like Humid Air. "better Than A Bath In Spaghetti Any Day." He Said Darkly, "if You Share That Little Bit Of Personal Information With Anyone, I May Have To Kill You." "well, When I Was Five, I Wanted My Mother To Let Me Go Around And Around Inside The Dryer With The Clothes," Clary Said. "the Difference Is, She Didn't Let Me." "probably Because Going Around And Around Inside A Dryer Can Be Fatal," Jace Pointed Out, "whereas Pasta Is Rarely Fatal. Unless Isabelle Makes It.