Why wait we for the torches' lights?
Now let us drink while day invites.
In mighty flagons hither bring
The deep-red blood of many a vine, That we may largely quaff, and sing The praises of the god of wine, The son of Jove and Semele, Who gave the jocund grape to be A sweet oblivion to our woes.
Fill, fill the goblet--one and two:
Let every brimmer, as it flows, In sportive chase, the last pursue.
Alcaeus of Mytilene
Fox slowly maneuvered his car into the dimly lit street of Ace Street. The night had settled in, casting a veil of darkness over the quiet neighborhood. The street was isolated. There were no other cars in sight, and the streetlights flickered ominously, casting long shadows on the pavement.
