Стив и Призрак

Ghost had vaguely expected more glitter, more jazz. Revellers in spangled cat's-eye masks, maybe, shaking confetti from their hair.

With courtesy exaggerated to the point of great sarcasm,

Ghost rummaged through his pockets. Things sifted out—leaves, rose petals, everything but money.

"Um—maybe we ought to walk down to that big cafe and get some coffee first.""Yeah, us and a million tourists.

It made him nervous and thirsty.

The stairs were dark, but the two faces seemed lit by an unhealthy glow from within.

She might be catnapping in that lovely twilight lull

She was too tired to open her eyes: her eyelids were weighted with sand.

Steve was looking morbidly interested.
<…>
"You want to?"

He thought, No way. I don't want to see any band that came out of that closet. .., we'll do anything but see poor dead Ashley Raventon's lovers playing at some club on Decatur Street.