"Romania," Mickey repeated, his grin coming out to play. "That's cool. I've never met anyone from there. I'm from the other end of Europe. Spain. Well, originally. I live in Camden, actually."
Mickey looked at his hand, flexing it, before his dark eyes fixed on Sorin. That old familiar thrill was awakening in his gut, coupled with another, surprising thought. I've still got it. Quickly, Mickey looked around. No-one. No-one to tattle to Leon.
"I'm a spirit of the desert," Mickey explained, "so yeah, we run hot naturally." A hand ran down Mickey's chest. "Would you like to feel for yourself?"