Burned and squashed to death in a silver vat of soup. There must be worst ways to go. But not many.
Jonathan StroudHe was a worried man (I'm stretching the term a bit here, I know. By now, in his mid to late teens, he might just about have passed for a man. When seen from behind. At a distance. On a very dark night).
Jonathan StroudHey, we've all got problems, chum. I'm overly talkative. You look like a field of buttercups in a suit.
Jonathan StroudOne magician demanded I show him an image of the love of his life. I rustled up a mirror.
Jonathan Stroud