Neena has been talking up a storm, going on for a while now about politics, religion, life, death, and the universe, but I can’t really keep up with her, since the alcohol’s sort of slowed every reflex I have. Except, so far, the impulse that keeps me from looking completely stupid, but I’m not so sure how long that one can hold out either, mostly because of her weirdly hypnotic eyes. She has no pupils; her eyes are simply two enormous black orbs in the middle of a dark-chocolate face unframed by the luscious blue-black tresses currently held back in a ponytail.  I’m trying to imagine what she’d look like with it all let down when she starts in on the massive curfew we’re all currently violating with extreme prejudice.

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