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A small white cat was sitting in the doorway, twitching his tail, his bright green eyes fixed on Clariel with an unnerving directness. There was a red collar around his neck that gleamed with Charter marks, and a tiny bell that Clariel knew instinctively she never wanted to hear ring.
"And who might you be?" asked the cat.
"I think you should be answering that question," said Clariel...
"Let's see," said the cat. "You're neither the Abhorson nor the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, not least because they never set foot inside this house if they can help it, but also because you're too young. You remind me a little of...Teriel...but you can't be his sister, also because you're too young. Did Teriel have a child before--"
"I meant who are you!" interrupted Clariel.
"What do you mean? I am Mogget, of course. The one and only Mogget."
Clariel by Garth Nix
You can either allow me to carry out my last-ditch, hare-brained scheme to save all our lives, or we can sit tight and wait to be blown up. Your choice.
The current reason I just got the equivalent of Chihuahua Sideeye:
I told our precious potato princess to stop licking my desk.
And I swear to dog, she just glared at me, and licked it one more time, before jumping off the ottoman that is her perch.
Nick Briggs has the dream job. Who wouldn't want to be the one to voice the Daleks and the Cybermen on a daily basis, and get them to say the craziest shit?
Tired of your shit