Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
You're getting close to your apartment, a block away, when you notice the usual night-time crowds have melted away. You don't live in a crowded neighbourhood, sure, but Vegas is only every quiet for an hour around dawn.
The streetlamps seem to have uneasy halos and the sky, always bereft of stars this far into the city, is perfectly black. The outlines of the walls and curbs fuzz and blur.
And a woman with wide, round-framed glasses, fine dreadlocks, and an expensive suit steps from an alleyway ahead of you. Her skin seems almost blue-black in the eerie light.
"Crazy night, huh?" she says, curious, smiling.
The streetlamps seem to have uneasy halos and the sky, always bereft of stars this far into the city, is perfectly black. The outlines of the walls and curbs fuzz and blur.
And a woman with wide, round-framed glasses, fine dreadlocks, and an expensive suit steps from an alleyway ahead of you. Her skin seems almost blue-black in the eerie light.
"Crazy night, huh?" she says, curious, smiling.