I try to think of something to say as I look down at her. But instead, I feel like I just have to stare at Midnight. With her lying in my lap, her hair is splayed out wildly, allowing the light to pick favorites between the blues and violets in her hair depending on the area. My eyes shift to the smug grin she's sporting – which, like many times when she smiles, allows just the tips of her canine teeth to peek out from her upper lip. And there's still those eyes. She wasn't born with them, but she's begun to take pride in them. The otherworldly blue hues that make up her irises are breathtaking up close as she looks up at me through slitted pupils.