Adrian gave me a look that said I was wasting his time. "Because Jet sounds badass.
Is Adrian here?” “Who?” “Adrian. Tall. Brown hair. Green eyes.” She frowned. “Do you mean Jet?” “I … I’m not sure. Does he smoke like a chimney?” The girl nodded sagely. “Yup. You must mean Jet.
My name's Jet Steele.
We're going on a, um, windmill tour later this week." If I'd wanted to shut them all up, I'd definitely succeeded. They all looked stunned. Adrian spoke first. "I'm going to assume that means he's flying you to Amsterdam on his private jet. If so, I'd like to come along. But not for the windmills.
Sydney: "You can be Jet if you want, but we are not posing as a couple again" Adrian: "Are you sure? Because I've got a lot more terms of endearment to use. Honey pie. Sugarplum. Bread pudding." Sydney: "Why are they all high-calorie foods? And bread pudding isn't really that romantic." Adrian: "Do you want me to call you celery stick instead? It just doesn't inspire the same warm and fuzzy feelings." - The Indigo Spell
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