As the other two returned to their seats, so did Zeke.  He clasped his hands around his cup of coffee to warm them, but it had gone cold.  Listening to Alex's explanation, he took a sip; however, about halfway through, he had to put his drink down.

River water in the spring?  Sticky oil and freezing cold?  Zeke had to actively resist laughing.  These descriptors had subjective connotations - were they supposed to imply a definitive disparity?  There was no such thing as good or evil, light or dark, purity or corruption.  There was only a fluctuating state of being, a superposition of extremes.  Alex clearly had no idea what he was saying, and it didn't help his case that he was rambling.

[color=8882be]"Where did you go to school?"[/color] Zeke wondered.  His biscotti was almost completely dissolved.  [color=8882be]"I've never been trained formally."
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