Author's note:

So I've had some Clace, I just wanted to add some Sizzy. And give Isabelle and Maryse some more mother-daughter moments. I apologise for the delay of twenty-nine days, but things have been busy for a while now. I'm still warming up to some action, but expect that in the next few chapters. This is still more of an introduction. Soon, though. I promise you, I mean soon.

Also, thank you to my few followers and those who favourited! These are:

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"I must say," Maryse said, buttering her toast, "I'm surprised you even worry at what you wear anymore."

"Why?" Isabelle inquired, reaching for the jam. "You're the one who always says first impressions count and whatnot."

"You never take my advice," Maryse murmured into her black coffee. "Well," she amended between sips, "almost never. But you barely listen to anyone."

"I listen," Isabelle protested. "I just don't agree."

Maryse smiled. "That's more what I meant. Isabelle, you never follow anyone's suggestions since you turned six, and here you are, asking for fashion assistance. Your forte."

"I have my moments," Isabelle mumbled. She stood, looking at the clock. "I should probably go."

"I'll see you sometime," Maryse answered, and saw her daughter off with a smile.

Simon could give Isabelle a lot of credit. She was brilliant with fashion. Excellent with demon-hunting. A master of the whip. Unfortunately good at video gaming. Punctuality, however, wasn't her strongest suit.

This time, she knew she was late. He could see it in her hurried stance. That was lost, however, as he took in what she wore. The top and earrings matched her Sensor. Her jeans and black leather jacket gave her a casually cool look, one models strived for. This girl didn't need help with that. Her flawless features were made more stunning with great cosmetics, and she was chewing on something, the best reminder he got that she was still mortal. The Marks stood out against her pallor.

"Hey," he managed.

"Hey," she replied, smiling, and kissed him on the mouth in greeting, giving him a good whiff of her caramel and burnt-sugar perfume he'd bought her for Christmas. He was touched she still used it. He figured she'd want something expensive, not a wacky thing you found at the back of the cosmetics aisles.

"You look great," he complimented her, feeling insignificant in his good jeans and favourite shirt and hurriedly combed hair and cleanest runners. She was a few inches taller than him today, thanks to the white high-heeled leather boots she wore. "Better than that girl," he added, nodding towards a model advertising some kind of brand at some shop-window opposite them.

Isabelle snorted. "Mundanes," she muttered. "You'd recognise whoever that's supposed to be by her face, not by her name. I bet that girl always gets that Do I know you? 24/7."

"You never know," Simon answered. "Maybe she actually lives in California as a student teacher." He stepped aside, opening the door for her. "After you."

She smiled at him and he followed her into the inviting café. "I get the feeling either job doesn't pay well," she murmured in response as she plonked into a seat. He took a seat opposite her.

"Modelling? Definitely not," he admitted. "If you're thinking of a career like that, I recommend a better temper."

Isabelle stuck her tongue out at him, and he grinned.

Kaelie, the fey waitress, handed them the menus. "Are you ready to take your orders?"

"I just want an apricot-plum smoothie with wildflower honey," Isabelle ordered without hesitation.

Simon took his time. "I'd prefer waffles with icing sugar, please," he ordered. "And a large coffee."

"Not a problem," Kaelie answered, taking the menus with her as she moved on.

Isabelle looked after her. "Representative of the Seelie Court doesn't seem to pay well, either."

"Magnus says any job on the Council pays well," Simon mused. "Maybe the Clave's cut her wages."

Isabelle sighed. "Idiots."

Simon looked aside, leaving Isabelle to her private moment. He watched a pale-pink skinned warlock with sharp features interact awkwardly with a not-so-charmed vampire. I know the feeling, buddy, he thought inwardly. He remembered Izzy the first time they met, aloof and superior and dangerous, even if she was cooking.

"So," he said, turning back to her, "why'd you call me here? I thought you wanted us all to hang out."

Isabelle's eyes twinkled. "I couldn't get to Clary or Jace."

"Don't you mean Clary and Jace?"

"Yes. No," she confessed. "I called separately and didn't get a reply. When I called Clary's home phone, Jocelyn said she was out with Jace."

"And Alec and Magnus?"

"I rearranged things after that."

Simon tried to puzzle that out as the smoothie and coffee arrived, and moments later the waffles. "Anything in my interest?"

"Yeah. Coffee."

"That's it?" he asked, mockingly disappointed.

"No. Maybe some fun."

"Well," he answered, leaning back. "Now it sounds interesting."