Eliana gazes at him a few moments, looking him over, then pushes against the 
thick cushions of her sofa and slowly sits up. Tossing her hair back behind her 
shoulders, she crosses her legs and smoothes her robe. She takes a cigarette 
from the darkwood box on the table beside the head of the lounge, then extends 
her left arm fully, shaking back the sleeve of her robe. Softly, she hums. A 
small flame bobs into existence at the end of her index finger, just above the top of her long, tapered fingernail. She 
uses the flame to light the cigarette; then, without warning, the flame rises 
toward the ceiling, swelling into a slowly boiling cloud of fire that fades into 
a haze of orange-red spreading slowly across the ceiling, deepening in color as 
it gradually disappears.