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(Henry and Alex have to take photos together...)

Alex: Let's get it over with.

Henry: I'd rather be waterboarded. Your country could probably arrange that.

Alex: Go f**k yourself.

Henry: Hardly enough time.
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Nora: I think it's amazing. Sworn enemies forced to make peace to settle tensions between their countries? There's something totally Shakespearean about it.

Alex: Shakespearean in that hopefully I'll get stabbed to death. This sheet says his favorite food is mutton pie. I literally cannot think of a more boring food. He's like a cardboard cutout of a person.
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(Alex is leaving to UK to do damage control for "Cakegate"...)

Alex: Okay. I'll do it. But I won't have any fun.

Zahra: God, I hope not.
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(Zahra hands Alex a list labeled "HRH Prince Henry Fact Sheet")

Zahra: You're going to memorize this so if anybody tries to catch you in a lie, you know what to say.

Alex: Does he get one of these for me?

Zahra: Yep. And for the record, making it was one of the most depressing moments of my career.
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Zahra (to Alex): Henry's your new best friend. You will smile and nod and not piss off anyone while you and Henry spend the weekend doing charity appearances and talking to the press about how much you love each other's company. If somebody asks about him, I want to hear you gush like he's your f**king prom date.
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Zahra (to Alex): You can hate the heir to the throne all you want, write mean poems about him in your diary, but the minute you see a camera, you act like the sun shines out of his dick, and you make it convincing.
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(The White House is doing damage control for the Cakegate situation...)

Ellen: As your mother, I can appreciate that maybe this isn't your fault, but as the president, all I want is to have the CIA fake your death and ride the dead-kid sympathy into a second term. I don't have time to deal with this right now, so here's what we're gonna do. You are going to make nice with Henry. You're leaving Saturday and spending Sunday in England.

Alex: Is it too late to take the faking-my-death option?
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(Henry asks June to dance with him, she agrees...)

Alex: So is that what's happening now? Has he decided to finally shut me up by wooing my sister?

Nora: Aw, little buddy. It's cute how you think everything is about you.

Alex: It should be, honestly.

Nora: That's the spirit.
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June: Do either of y'all know what a viscount is? I've met, like, five of them, and I keep smiling politely as if I know what it means when they say it. Alex, you took comparative international governmental relational things. Whatever. What are they?

Alex: I think it's that thing when a vampire creates an army of crazed sex waifs and starts his own ruling body.

Nora: That sounds right.

June: I wish I were a viscount. I could have my sex waifs deal with my emails.

Alex: Are sex waifs good with professional correspondence?

Nora: I think it could be an interesting approach. Their emails would be all tragic and wanton. "Oh, please, I beg you, take me—take me to lunch to discuss fabric samples, you beast!"

Alex: Could be weirdly effective.

June: Something is wrong with both of you.
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(June is reading People magazine's article about the royal wedding...)

June: What? I want to be prepared for my first-ever royal wedding.

Alex: You went to prom, didn't you? Just picture that, only in hell, and you have to be really nice about it.
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June: Is it possible you willfully forgot about the biggest international event of the year because you don't want to see your archnemesis?

Alex: June, I'm the son of the President of the United States. Prince Henry is a figurehead of the British Empire. You can't just call him my "archnemesis." "Archnemesis" implies he's actually a rival to me on any level and not, you know, a stuck-up product of inbreeding who probably jerks off to photos of himself.
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Luke Garroway: Forgive me my paternal panic. I tend to get a little nervous when you're not in my immediate line of sight these days.

Clary Fairchild: Oh, yeah? How long do you think that's going to go on for?

Luke Garroway: Not long. Five, maybe six years.

Clary Fairchild: Luke!

Luke Garroway: I plan to let you start dating when you're thirty, if that helps.

Clary Fairchild: Actually, that doesn't sound so bad. I may not be ready until I'm thirty.
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(After Jace saves Simon...)

Valentine Morgenstern: You have no idea what you've done, Jonathan. No idea.

Jace Herondale: I saved a life. One you tried to take. I know that much.

Valentine Morgenstern: Not a human life. You resurrected a monster that will only kill to feed again. His kind are always hungry—

Simon Lewis: I'm hungry right now. I wouldn't mind a little more blood. Of course your blood would probably choke me, you poisonous piece of—
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(Simon drinks blood from Jace and barely makes himself stop...)

Simon Lewis: I could have killed you.

Jace Herondale: I would have let you.
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Quote from The Mortal Instruments: City of Ashes | Magnus Bane: I would help you. But I can't. Stripping the protection wards off the ship was bad enough—it's a strong, strong enchantment, demon-based—but when you fell, I had to put a fast spell on the truck so it wouldn't sink when I lost consciousness. And I will lose consciousness, Alec. It's just a matter of time. I didn't want you to drown. The enchantment should hold enough for you to get the truck back to land. Alec Lightwood: I—didn't realize. Take my hands. And take my strength too. Whatever of it you can use to—to keep yourself going. Magnus Bane: I thought you had to get back to the ship. Alec Lightwood: I have to fight. But that's what you're doing, isn't it? You're part of the fight just as much as the Shadowhunters on the ship— and I know you can take some of my strength, I've heard of warlocks doing that—so I'm offering. Take it. It's yours.
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