He could wear hats. He could wear an assortment of hats of different shapes and styles. Boater hats, cowboy hats, bowler hats. The list went on. Pork-pie hats, bucket hats, trillbies and panamas. Top hats, straw hats, trapper hats. Wide brim narrow brim, stingy brim. He could wear a fez. Fezzes were cool. Hadn't someone once said that fezzes were cool? He was pretty aur ether had. And they were. They were cool.

Sanguine felt the ridiculous urge to reach out and poke him, just to see if he’d react, but he’d seen that kind of anger before. It was the quiet kind. The dangerous kind.

Is he all scarred now? Magic gets rid of most physical scars, but I like to think I scarred him emotionally.

Valkyrie, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your friend is most likely dead.” “Of course he’s dead. He’s a skeleton.

She’s not… She’s not datin’ the skeleton, is she? How would that be even possible, let alone… nice? He’s got no skin, or lips, or… or nothin’.

It’s fairly standard. Also, I’m fourteen. Also, your beard’s stupid.” “Isn’t this fun?” Skulduggery said brightly. “The three of us getting along so well.

There's enough sedative in these darts to bring down a werewolf, which is exactly what we're hunting. Why would we want to bring down an elephant if we're not hunting elephants?