Up through around twenty-five he’d never even thought about his back: it was a balanced, frictionless, self-regulating system. Now it felt like a bus… - Lev Grossman

Specifically she was into dragons.
Quentin suppose it was an extension of the general Australian preoccupation with fatally dangerous animals. Start with saltwater crocodiles and box jellyfish and it was just a hop, skip, and a jump up the food chain before you got to dragons.

To be honest, Quentin felt superior to anybody who still messed around with magic. They could delude themselves if they liked, those self-indulgent magical mandarins, but he’d outgrown that stuff. He wasn’t a magician anymore, he was a man, and a man took responsibility for his actions.

What is that thing?" Quentin said.
"This?" Betsy held up the knife, studying its edge. "This is why I'm here. This is what I've always wanted. This is a weapon for killing gods."
"Why would you want to do that?"
"Have you ever met a fucking god?"
"I guess I can see your point.