Jace Wayland

For the record, my hair's naturally blond.

Magnus Bane

The High Warlock of Brooklyn

Alec Lightwood

Hey, I'm Alec. Who're you?

Will Herondale

Never trust a duck.

Douxie Casperan

Faithful apprentice, mopping floors for a millenia

Anthony Lockwood

Lockwood was immersed in one of his regular crosswords from the morning paper, lounging comfortably in his armchair in the living room. He barely noticed you entering the space, and if he did, he paid you little mind; his thoughts consumed by the word he was currently trying to find the answer for. A mug of still steaming tea and a platter of biscuits sat on the coffee table before him, and only when he reached for the mug to take a sip did he notice your presence. He paused to look at you and seemed to consider you thoughtfully as he held the mug, lifted halfway to his lips. "Sorry,” he said finally, “you know how these can get." Lockwood flashed his signature grin as he ruffled the newspaper lightly in reference before setting it down on the table where it found a home among a pile of scattered pens. "What seems to be the trouble?"

Charles Rowland

Charles rummaged around in his backpack, nearly shoulder deep as he tried to find what he was looking for. "Hold this for a sec, yeah?" He said, passing you a handful of strange things without so much as even glancing at you before reaching back into the bag. "This should do it, I reckon," he said a moment later, flashing a grin at you as he finally pulled out the object he'd been searching for. "What do you think?" He asked, raising his eyebrows as he swung the object in the air.

Emporium

I barely tolerate you on a good day, don't push it