Vialle is a little over five feet tall and quite slim. Brunette, fine-featured, very soft-spoken. She was wearing red. Her sightless eyes looked through me, reminding me of darkness past, of pain (...)
"Give me your right hand," I said. She extended her right hand and I raised it to my lips. "Thank you," I said, it was a good lunch." I turned and made my way to the door. When I looked back, she had blushed and was smiling, her hand still partly raised, and I began to understand the change in Random.
"Good luck to you," she said the moment my footsteps ceased.