The man was a ghost, or wraith, or some other sort of incorporeal beast. He barely seemed to touch the ground at all. People made way for him without seeming to notice he was there at all. He made no sounds as he moved. He spoke to no one. He ate nothing. Nigel couldn’t help but watch him. It was astonishing how the stranger drew no other attention. His hair was golden brown, curling just slightly around his collar, and he had the face of a fallen angel. Lucifer himself was not so handsome.
Nigel shook his head and backed away from the server’s door. There would be dancing next, and couples slipping away into dark corners. It wouldn’t do to have anyone living stumble over him. The captain got enough grief from the groundlings for her crew without having anyone actually risk touching one.
