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“Peter King paused just inside taking in the scene with a few critical sweeps of eyes so dark they didn’t catch any light from the sunlight or the chandelier. His irises seemed to bleed pigment into the whites, warming them with swirls of ivory. In his black suit, his skin tanned almost to match, he might have been a heroically sized construction paper cutout against white walls, white carpet, the white-and-gold marble-topped table that looked both antique and French.” — Elizabeth Bear
Peter King paused just inside taking in the scene with a few critical sweeps of eyes so dark they didn’t catch any light from the sunlight or the chandelier. His irises seemed to bleed pigment into the whites, warming them with swirls of ivory. In his black suit, his skin tanned almost to match, he might have been a heroically sized construction paper cutout against white walls, white carpet, the white-and-gold marble-topped table that looked both antique and French.