"We friends, yes?" The shoe shine boy put on his hustling smile and looked into the Sailor's dead, cold, undersea eyes, eyes without a trace of warmth or lust or hate or any feeling the boy had experienced in himself or seen in another, at once cold and intense, impersonal and predatory. The Sailor leaned forward and put a finger on the boy's inner arm at the elbow. He spoke in his dead junky whisper. "With veins like that, Kid, I'd have myself a time!" -- William Burroughs