Thermodynamics
After Madame Vastra, other people glow too bright. Their faces quiver at the slightest provocation; their touch is like fever, clinging long after the pain of departure.
Jenny could feel the warmth rise in her own cheeks when Madame first snared a hand in hers. Her tongue, stout and clumsy, cleaved to the roof of her mouth as her face prickled with heat, the beacon of their secret to the world.
Madame laughed to see her.
"Your colours change so fast. One would think you'd no control."
She twitched her head, blushed a soft duckling yellow, and turned for home.
