These super-mirrored Mykita + Maison Martin Margiela sunglasses are a look I’ve been wanting since I read Neuromancer over 20 years ago, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. Too bad they cost the proverbial limbs.
She shook her head. He realized that the glasses were surgically inset, sealing her sockets. The silver lenses seemed to grow from smooth pale skin above her cheekbones, framed by dark hair cut in a rough shag. The fingers curled around the fletcher were slender, white, tipped with polished burgundy. The nails looked artificial. “I think you screwed up, Case. I showed up and you just fit me right into your reality picture.”
* * *
"We must, as you say in Ingiliz, take this one very easy.” [Terzibashjian] seemed to stare pointedly at Molly, but at last he removed the silver glasses. His eyes were a dark brown that matched the shade of his very short military-cut hair. He smiled. “It is better, this way, yes? Else we make the tunel infinity, mirror into mirror…. You particularly,” he said to her, “must take care. In Turkey there is disapproval of women who sport such modifications.”
Molly bit one of the pastries in half. “It’s my show, Jack,” she said, her mouth full. She chewed, swallowed, and licked her lips. “I know about you. Stool for the military, right?” Her hand slid lazily into the front of her jacket and came out with the fletcher. Case hadn’t known she had it.
"Very easy, please," Terzibashjian said, his white china thimble frozen centimeters from his lips.
She extended the gun. “Maybe you get the explosives, lots of them, or maybe you get a cancer. One dart, shitface. You won’t feel it for months.”
"Please. You call this in Ingiliz making me very tight….”
"I call it a bad morning. Now tell us about your man and get your ass out of here." She put the gun away.