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Pre-Euphoria: Amanda POV

An A-list artiste's concert wouldn't be this roof raising. 

'Roof raising' is a simple way to describe it. They are making serious attempts to set the roof ablaze and gas up the naked night sky. 

I meet Pascal at the gate post where he's turning his pockets inside out, looking for money to pay off the kekenape that dropped him. Hippie red, blue and pink glowing from the tricycle's headlamps wash him in fluctuating rainbow colours that make his deep brown skin brown-emerald one second, and brownish indigo the next. He spots me and hollers my name. I wave back and go on to meet him. He wraps me up in an embrace worthy of a grizzly bear, for like the six thousandth time since I met him. Boy sure likes his hugs. "Hey are you wearing make-up?" He sounds suprised that I would. 

"No." I lie smoothly "I'm not. Why?" 

"I swear it looks like you are." He squints at my features, I smirk up at him. 

"Ha! I knew you were wearing make up

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