Quotes About Ilona

I'm welding the bimbo room shut.

What would I do without the moral compass of a teenage werewolf?

Aha, Andrea said. I'm going to ignore that you just referred to yourself as 'sugar woogums'.

We don't need teenage bouda sex fiends as interns. How do you know he is a sex fiend? He is fifteen and he's a bouda. Hello?

We can do subtle, I assured her. It's our middle name, Andrea added. For some odd reason Rene didn't look convinced.

All that was missing was a neon sign that read EVIL AND CONFLICTED ABOUT IT with a flashing arrow pointing at his head.

She had wailed loudly enough to wake the dead and make them call the cops.

That suit has gone to your head. It's not the suit, buttercup. I don't do pet names. Do you do werewolves? Okay, I'm not talking to you anymore.

In there?' She nodded. 'You want us to go into the tortoise?' Another nod. 'It's alive.' Another nod.

This is payback, isn't it? Jim glared at me. Don't be ridiculous, I told him. As the Consort of the Pack, I'm far above petty revenge.

Why couldn't she have gotten another Edger or some dimwit from the Broken for a passenger? No, she got Lord Leather Pants here.

Hail to the Beast Lord! I waved my spatula for emphasis. Jim spared me an ugly look and turned to Dali.

Rose put down her fork. Lord Submarine... Camarine. Whatever.

No. Besides, if you can't trust an ice giant driving a creeper van with a dead body inside, who can you trust?

I really would like to know," he said with genuine curiosity. "The next time I kill someone, I'd like to do it in a way that doesn't freak you out." "How about you don't kill anybody for a little bit?" "I can't make that promise.

I don't know any lion hunters, period. And you know what, apple pie worked for me." "I've got news for you, it wasn't your apple pie Curran was interested in.

"Amy," Elsie Moore said in her crackling voice, her gaze fixed on Declan. "I want you to get me a new bear. A blond one."

Shut up. How was I supposed to know two little bears hurt you, Goldilocks?

It's all fun and games until the drunk Viking Santa shows up.

We'll have to force a confrontation. How terrible." She rolled her eyes.

Only two kinds of people drink their coffee black: cops and serial killers. Sit

Tony asked him what his outfit was called, and Gaston told him that if he had to be menacing, there was no reason he couldn't be dashing as well.

It's a cutting," I repeated. "There is no root." Tony swore. "It's a fucking inn, not an African violet.

Only two kinds of people drink their coffee black: cops and serial killers. Sit, sit." I