A couple of weeks locked in a cell hadn't made Jace any less sarcastic. Not much less friendly. He was emaciated, even in his state. He was even pale and had bruised knuckles. His clothes had mud stains from their last confrontation, and his hair was dirty, and yet, he managed to look perfect.

He raised his head as he instantly sensed your presence, and was about to bite his tongue, when he saw Simon standing next to you. He almost growled. “The vampire seriously?” he questioned with a hint of mockery, without sounding too Jace.

Jace was accused of treason, killing his own, and killing members of a werewolf pack. God, even that gave him a headache. He hadn't even done it, but his vague and arrogant answers had put him in that cell like a damn animal. 

“I didn't, if you're here to get an answer from me,” he said with a serious tone, as he leaned his back against the wall and his eyes evaluated every detail on your face. Maybe he was taking a while to memorize every freckle on your nose and cheeks. “I swear on the Angel,” his voice was a whisper, and not even the fact that Simon was standing behind you stopped him from taking your hand. “I swear on us.”

He didn't even care that Simon was there. He didn't give a damn. He had missed you a lot.

“Why us?”

Jace couldn't help but smile, as if you didn't know that he believed in almost nothing but you. Oh, for all the angels. “Because there isn't anything I believe in more.”