"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Will lamented, kneeling on the cold white tile as the growing pool of red inched towards him. He put out his hands, as though they could staunch the flow.

Jem popped his head into the kitchen. "Will, what did you do?" he asked in horror.

"I killed it!" Will wailed. "It never stood a chance." The sticky liquid flowed through his fingers. "I'm a murderer!"

Jem rolled his eyes. "William Herondale," he admonished. "Is there really a need for dramatics over a dropped jam tart?"

"Oh James." Will let out a heaving sigh. "It was a jam tart beyond compare. Beautiful red strawberries, plucked at just the optimal ripeness, then stewed to perfection and mixed with sweet, sweet sugary goodness. And the pastry…" He kissed his fingers to show how good it must be.

"It was one of half a dozen in the packet," Jem drily countered. "75p at Tesco's. Would you like me to pop out and buy you some more?"

"It will never be the same."

Jem threw his hands up in exasperation and left the kitchen. "You are hopeless," he muttered.

Will grinned and considered the jam on his hands. "Waste not," he said and licked his palm. "Oh that's delicious." He proceeded to clean off both his hands. He was about to reach for the broken pieces of pastry when Jem returned with a broom in one hand and a dripping mop in the other. He scowled. "You are killing my fun, Jem."

"You're going to give yourself food poisoning and stomach cramps," Jem informed him.

"You only live once."

"And I'd rather live comfortably and pain free, thanks." Jem handed Will the mop. "I'll sweep the crumbs. You mop up the jam. I'll get you some more tarts tomorrow."

"Jam tomorrow and jam yesterday, but never jam today," Will quoted.

"Have I ever not kept my promises?" Jem asked.

"Well, let's see, last week you said you'd help me google how to set a snare so we could trap Lightwood, but you haven't."

Jem threw a bit of pastry at him. "Because I don't want to be thrown in jail when he screams blue murder at us."

"He screams like a girl. No one'll take him seriously."

"Your sister might not be happy about it."

"She'll thank me one day. I'm saving her from the humiliation of having to be seen with a Lightwood." Will shook his mop in Jem's direction, spraying red water droplets everywhere. "Maybe I should save this jam water and do a Carrie on him. That'll be even better than a snare."

"You do that and I'm definitely never buying you jam tarts ever again," Jem warned.

Will pouted. "All right, all right. I like my tarts more anyway."

"Good," Jem nodded. "Now, hurry up. This mess isn't going to clean itself."

Will started mopping industriously. "Two pence a week and jam every other day," he proclaimed. "But never jam today."