[Cue a glare from the crowd-- a glare as dark as the fires of a torrid soul burning black through the deep windows of two starless organs of sight. Neil feels the distance between his own humble self and the daring keeper of his heart, in reality only a few short stretches, expand to many weary miles. If ever a soul has been so tortured, let its accounts be burned in interest in the goodness and jollity of all the world.]
[Action, doused in purple prose]