"His eyes?" Vachon reminds you.

"They were, uh, yellow." You tell him, then at his surprised look you add, "But only for a second, then they were normal again. That's why I hid, they weren't contacts and I…" You trail off, not sure how to explain what you saw.
 

But Vachon isn't looking at you like he's trying to imagine you in a straitjacket, instead he's looking you straight in the eye.  You feel strange, almost as if you're floating. "This guy, what did he look like?" Vachon asks.

"Red…red hair, tall, pale…" You tell him, "Green jacket, freckles…"

"Michael," Vachon nods, "He's all right, I think he left already too." He glances over his shoulder as if he can see into the club through the wall. "Yeah, listen to me…"

You nod and happily listen to the Spaniard as he explains how you were at the movies tonight, you saw 'Mask of Zorro' again.
 

As Vachon puts you in a cab, you smile at him. "I like that movie."  He smiles back at you, "So did Tracy."

"Who's Tracy?"

"Never mind," He thumps the top of the cab and shuts the door. "Good night, and pleasant dreams."

You nod as the cab pulls away from the curb, "Pleasant dreams."