The Slippery Slope

Even in his whisky-addled vision, Miguel sees an "angel." He could see more or less clearly what a vision of beauty Claire is, with that sexy little black dress, wearing what his other friends would describe as fück me pumps. The trouble is, he doesn't have a solid control of his own body; he's trapped in the back corner of his brain, watching this all unfold, like a backseat driver. Excitedly, he greets her with the most gracious greeting he could muster, but somehow he has a sense that that went down rather poorly, he's just not sure how. He couldn't read the emotion on Claire's face, but who could blame her? He tried to grab her in the dark, for pete's sakes! So whatever Claire's expression is, he will ignore it; he'll understand. "Please, sit here, and thank you," Miguel says.