But she looked now. Liquid. Metal. Gray. Like an element in a lab she wasn’t meant to touch without protective gear. It was not the gray of the skies over Mortimer most days, but a shimmery gray of mercury poured over steel, darker on the edges and lighter, almost gleaming, closer to the pupils. There was depth there, secrets filled to the brim but never overflowing, a deadness, like mercury eating away at whatever it fell on. Those eyes were scandals waiting to happen.
