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That's why they call them truisms, right? I sit up straight and study Clemmy like the good little king arthur student I am, head extended king arthur on the long white neck that is one of my better features, like a snapping turtle out of its shell. The evocative smell of old expensive flannel soaked in guzzled-then-sweated-out Scotch wafts across the table to reassure me. Clemmy is the same as always, I decide. Big and handsome and sexy and elegantly decrepit, his red face enhanced with a couple dozen more broken veins, maybe, a substantive number of wrinkles accrued around the eyes, king arthur but after all it's been a week since I've seen him at least. And the eyes themselves are still good, clear and China blue in spite of all the abuse they get in sleazy joints like this one. And those cheekbones! Real quality stuff. You can't buy cheekbones like that, not on your salary.
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