“Belatedly, she realized something else. “Do you... have anything?”
He didn't seem to have recovered from her last comment. “But do you mean—wait, do I have what?”
She slitted her eyes at him. “Something important.”
“Like what? The phone number for the White House?” A moment later, under her withering glare, realization dawned. “Oh.” His was the expression of someone who has run out of gas in the middle of the desert, miles from help. “I...”
―
Cassandra Clare,
City of Heavenly Fire
