She grasps the glowing orb, takes a bite out of it, orange and bitters, sends a shiver down her spine. A chaser of liquid plasma, solid mist, cinnamon and roses, deep breath, hold it until her lips tingle. Back to the orb, and now the bite is grape and copper. Her fingers glow yellow, knuckles a darker orange as she flexes the unfamiliar appendages. He strolls into the room, blunderbuss over one shoulder. One glance tells him she’s juiced to the gills, no sense even trying to talk about the probate proceedings. A grin trickles its way across her mouth, creates a jagged cavern of dangerous teeth. Prey.