Delilah: You need more friends.

Cecily: Are you bored of Alexander?

Delilah: Not bored. But you’re a well-bred woman of the world. One assumes you have all manner of interesting conversations with people possibly willing to try some harder drugs. Just a suggestion. If you keep filling from the same vial you’re eventually going to get desensitised. Or desensitising.

Cecily: I’m a little full of malaise.

Delilah: Of all people I recognise the murky seriousness of malaise.

Cecily: I sipped from an intelligent goblet of love, which had its own agency, and when it exercised its agency I became angry and sick with it, and tossed it to the floor. But it didn’t roll far enough away. I had photos of it in my apartment.

Delilah: Hell hath no metaphors like a vampiric poet starved of pennilessness.