You are about as covert as a sledgehammer.

Alexia, did you know there is an entire regiment decamping on your front lawn? Laddy Maccon sighed. "Really, Ivy, I would never have noticed.

Classic author moment, "Oh dear, did I kill that character or not?

The Gamma paused. “You have a crazed werewolf in your wine cellar?” “You can think of a better place to stash him?” “What about the wine?

I kissed her," he explained, aggrieved. "Mmm, yes, I had the dubious pleasure of witnessing that, ah-hem, overly public occurrence." Lyall sharpened his pen nib, using a small copper blade that ejected from the end of his glassicals. "Well! Why hasn't she done anything about it?" the Alpha wanted to know. "You mean like whack you upside the noggin with that deadly parasol of hers? I would be cautious in that area if I were you.

Lady Maccon.” “By George, Boots! How the deuce can you possibly tell that there is Lady Maccon?” queried the other top-hated gentleman. “Who else would be standing in the middle of a street on full-moon night with a raging ruddy fire behind her, waving a parasol about?” “Good point, good point.

Tunstell, this is your Alpha speaking. Do as I tell you. You must regurgitate now. Regurgitation is an involuntary action. You cannot simply order me to do it,” replied Tunstell in a small voice. “I most certainly can. Besides which, you are an actor.” Tunstell grimaced. “I’ve never had cause to vomit onstage.