“Thanks for letting me stay here. I didn’t feel like waiting until I was sober enough to try to drive home tonight,” she said giving me a hug an... a little peck on the lips. “All good. Come on upstairs. You know where everything is. What’s with the coat and all this excess glitter you have on you?” I asked looking at her knee-length trench coat. “Cosstuume party,” she said going up the stairs to my room. “I’m an angel, and juss felt kinda silly going to and from in this,” she said turning to. Blimey, she thinks, she was off the deep end of sanity. Its skin is a shade of neon green just shy of translucent, eyes a bright shade of amber. It was… humanoid. Not the little green man of Area 51 those wankers in America believe in. This thing had tits, violet, bee-stung lips, and not a speck of hair, unless you counted the rather short, bone like projections that curve like licks of small flame or a quick textured brush stroke. Female, she supposed, if a thing of particles and light had. More

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