No kidding, if you put me in a room with Eliza and a hundred beautiful girls, Eliza would be the one I’d walk over to. There’s something magnetic about her. And sad. And she does this thing when she talks—she dips her chin and raises her eyes and looks right into you. It’s a gift, really. I think she could make whoever she’s talking to feel like the only person in the room—the only person in the universe, even. But then it switches—when she’s not looking at you it’s like her mind is in another world, miles away, and her dark, falcon eyes point upward, like she’s in some kind of mesmerized
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