Hank turned the carriage house key in his hand as he wandered the manor that evening. "There are some great rides in there," he said to himself. "It'd be cool to see how fast that Aston Martin goes."

He checked out every room he could find, since none of them had any doors. As he walked the hallways of the second floor, he remembered Rio said there was a Japanese spa somewhere. While searching for it, he smelled something strange—the scent of anise and cloves burning. Hank followed the scent until he found himself in a dimly lit, decorated antechamber.

Rio's antechamber.

He seemed to have caught her at an off-guard moment, if she ever had one. She sat on a cushion upon a small stool in a recessed corner. The room was shadow-free, thanks to Milton's expert lighting system, which cast just enough glow on the floor for Hank to see it was made of solid stone.

Rio sat with her legs crossed and her back to Hank, where he stood, simply staring. Wisps of smoke curled around her head, as if incense were burning in a big clay bowl whose edges could seen as it sat on a table in front of her. He wondered why someone who lived in fear would sit with her back to an open doorway, allowing anyone to walk in unannounced. He then realized he hadn't surprised her, but only caused her to be annoyed. Without looking over her shoulder, she straightened her posture in response to his presence.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing, really. I just, ah… smelled smoke."

Rio sniffed indifferently. She spun on her stool to face Hank, as more words poured from her than he'd ever heard before.

"Yes, I smoke. Too much, you think. But I don't care. I don't care what anyone thinks, and you know why, chīsai koinu? I don't care what I think!"

Hank didn't spend time wondering why Rio answered her own question because, for some reason, her eyes grew red. It was as if the spice in the bidi cigarette she was smoking had caused an allergic reaction. Then he noticed a tear; and then, a lot of tears.

Rio silently cried for, as far as Hank could tell, no reason at all. If Milton hadn't told him so many scary things about her, he might have crouched beside her to offer comfort. But as Hank was prone to do, he simply stood and stared as she took off her glasses and hung her head, letting big tears splash on the stonework floor.

"You don't know what it's like in here!" she snapped, jerking her head back up to glare at Hank.

She tapped the side of her head with the index finger of the hand not holding her bidi. Looking perturbed at the stubby cigarette, she sucked another hit from it before twisting around to smash it into the clay bowl full of butts on the table. After that, she stood up, holding a damp washcloth. She wiped her hands and dabbed her eyes before putting it back on the table. She then smoothed the pleats of her midnight blue skirt, and straightened the matching string tie attached to the neckline of her white blouse. The long business jacket she'd been wearing that day hung on a wooden hanger, itself on a peg in the wall near Hank's head.

Rio took one step towards her jacket—and Hank. He suppressed an incredible urge to back one step out of her quarters. It was a mighty effort, but his concern for her was great. Also, since she hadn't killed him yet for barging in, he felt safe for now.

"This is the real world," she said. "So listen up! Do you know my best defense against bad guys? The Pacific Ocean! It will not last forever! They're influencing Reality right here, right now!

"A lot," she added with annoyance, as silent Hank remained true to his nature.

"Why do you think Dots are persecuted? Others influence them to destroy Western civilization. Maybe the whole goddamn world! Not replace it, not subvert it—they want to destroy! Anyone like you, or Milton or me, or any do-goody-good do-gooder who Reals up happiness and sunny skies, and crap like that!"

Rio burst out bawling. She yelled at a corner of the ceiling, trying to keep the tears in her eyes. "You dumb Dots don't know what's happening! You're so stupid!"

It took all Hank's timid nature to keep from taking Rio up in his arms and holding her as she cried. She flashed dark eyes at him. Not even the smallest of his intentions escaped her notice.

"Don't feel sorry for me!" she snarled through her sobs. "Do you know how hard it is to keep you damn Dots from getting your butt kicked? Who do you think Reals up support? Milton and I, we bust our ass, keeping you safe and alive!"

Rio waved her arms, gesturing chaotically. She pointed at people who weren't in the room.

"I know lots like you! Tons! They're everywhere!"

Rio stopped pointing at far-away people, and let her arms hang at her sides. She found it hard to snarl as she spoke to the floor.

"And they're getting taken out, one by one, as bad guys look for me."

Rio slumped as her head sunk lower. Two more tears, one from each eye, splashed on the floor before she stopped crying. In the partial darkness, her graceful features made her look small and vulnerable. But when she raised a hand to brush away some tears, polished fingernails flashed like switchblades.

Rio heaved on a breath, using its momentum to raise her head high enough to stare at her intruder. He stooped to get a better view of her tear-stained face. Neither of them moved, nor said a word, for a very long moment. Even without her signature red eyeglasses, and her wavy black hair in her face from having flailed her arms, Rio managed to look piercingly at Hank.

Hank's eyes were, as always, almond butter brown and gorgeous. Although Rio was near-sighted, she could make out his long eyelashes whenever he blinked. They fluttered on his face with a life all their own.

He knew she was picking thoughts from his brain as if they were written on paper. He tried doing the same to her. Failing, he imagined what it must be like being Rio. So small and alone and scared of a creepy pack of clowns out in a big mean world, wishing she were dead.

That has got to suck, Hank thought as he concentrated on scary Rio.

He imagined what he'd do if he could do anything he wanted. He'd help her shed layers of pain, forsaking leather-studded armor for the beauty of a flower. For like a flower without light, kept breathless from the sun, inside, Rio was dying. Not from the hand of a heartless Other, but from the lifeless tomb she feared making an escape.

If he could just breathe life in her. Let love rain down like water. Take her, young and sweet and innocent, to that sun-splotched summer land he knew had to be out there somewhere, to frolic on soft warm grass.

I want to help. I wish you were happy. I do.

Rio lowered her head and stared at her tear stains on the floor. She broke the long silence with a voice too small to be hers.

"Ah shit, Hank," she said. "I'm all fizzed out, you see? I'm one of Milton's Poppsies, left open and alone. Like I'm dropped on the floor, and everything is gone."

Her heavy head rose to set dark eyes on Hank. Her humor gave her a wry smile. "I feel like such a loser."

Hank implored with earnest. "You will never be a loser. Ever," he added, as it made her smile grow.

Another moment passed, until Rio's small voice spoke again. "You can hug me now."

Reality changed in an instant. The lights in the room brightened. Rio stood strong and dominant—powerful, even scary—but softer. She became personable. She became obtainable.

She became beautiful. So beautiful that Hank took the steps needed to close the space between them. He stooped low and wrapped her up in long lanky arms, her face buried in the cotton safety of his chocolate pullover shirt.

Rio could squeeze hard for a small woman. She made Hank gasp for breath.

"You're a good guy, right?" she said into his shirt. "You're not bad, are you?"

"I'm a good guy. Please don't kill me."

"What?"

She pushed him away so she could look up at his face. His brown butter eyes were open wide, yet hidden in an eyelash jungle. A high-pitched giggle, the kind Japanese girls do well, burst from her tear-streaked face.

"What?" she said again, between girlish giggles.

"Uh, Milton said that… um, you'd kill me if I were bad."

"Oh, that guy is a ham!"

She shook her head and buried it back in his warm embrace. He took his turn at hugging tight, trying not to touch her boobs or butt. She was small and busty, so it wasn't easy finding a place for him to put his big hands, but he managed.

Rio sighed with content. "I don't kill bad guys," she said from the safety of his shirt. "I could, I suppose, but I don't. That would make me bad too, would it not? I isolate them. I subvert them. I set traps and make them lose."

After a pause, she added, "Sometimes, maybe, I make them kill themselves."

Hank shuddered at her final words. She responded by squeezing harder. Still squeezing, Rio bent her strong back to look again at his face. His unkempt sandy hair looked like the mane of an animal she wanted to train.

"The bad guys lose," she said to his face.

"The bad guys lose," he repeated.

"Bad guys always lose."

"Bad guys always lose." How is she doing this?

Rio continued staring, waiting until Hank blinked. Satisfied with his performance, she again submitted her face to his shirt, closing her eyes while pressing her body fully against him.

She smelled absolutely edible. Licorice and cinnamon and cloves mingled with the musk of tobacco and the crisp scent of her dry-cleaned clothes. The essence of herbal shampoo drifted from her head. Even after shaving and showering, with clean clothes and his favorite cologne provided by Milton's unending generosity, Hank felt sure there was no way he smelled that good to Rio.

He couldn't have been more wrong. She was a woman driven by her sense of smell more than a person ought to allow. Her mind ran wild with randy thoughts as she breathed in every gram of his delicious manliness.

"Ah, but they do not lose," Rio continued, as they fought off what their noses were telling them to do. "Not like they're supposed to. It's me against them, and God! They want me dead. They know I'm fucking them."

The sound of Rio cussing made it hard for Hank to stay soft. "Do you want to know why I smoke?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Not really."

"It's the only bad habit I've kept after running away to find Milton. I was alone, so I say, 'Fuck it. I'll do what I want.' Every terrible thing they did felt like a personal loss. They won't stop, and I can't stop hurting. They pick me apart piece by piece, the filthy beasts."

Rio paused to gather up courage before laying bare the most painful part of her confession. "I wanted to die. Oh my God, Hank! I wanted to very much. So it would look like I didn't give up, you see? I felt dead anyway, broken from the burden of a cross too heavy to bear."

Rio drew her next breath from Hank's shirt, using his male scent to strengthen her will. She squeezed her eyes shut as she sucked him in.

"But I won't stop fighting, even though I break. I will not let them win!"

This time, Rio shuddered. A sob wracked her entire body as she pressed to Hank for comfort. He placed his hand on her head and stroked her like a kitten, calming her as she confessed.

"So I tried doing it for them. I figured, you see, if I couldn't die in vain as a hero, I'd die in shame instead. So I drank. I smoked. I did drugs. I did anything I could to try not to care. To give up. To lose."

"Stop saying that. You're not a loser. You will never, ever be one."

She rewarded him with a firmer hug as her confession continued. Her lips curled with disgust.

"Hai. I could not do that either. So when I smelled their rotten stinking breath so near to mine, I ran. I left everything I had. Nothing came with me as I roamed the world alone."

Rio grew silent. She couldn't go on. Hank remembered he had a paper napkin from Milton's kitchen in his front pants pocket. He pried her body far enough away so he could dig it out, and offered it to her.

"Thank you," Rio sniffed.

"You're welcome, Rio-san," he said, adding, "Dou itashi mashite."

"Ah, Hank-sama, you really are sweet. Dōmo arigatō."

She busied herself with the napkin, pressing her pelvis against him to stay in contact with his body before releasing him from her arms. She then turned her head to wipe her nose and face.

He held her by the waist while she blew her nose. "You don't have to tell me this," he said in a soft voice. "I like you the way you are."

Rio gave her big nose two feminine honks before wiping it one more time. She carefully folded the napkin before dropping it to the floor. She then gripped Hank by his forearms to keep his hands on her waist, before rising to her toes. Bending back as far as she could, she got a good look at his eyes without those long lashes in the way.

"Take more credit for who you are," she said, as an order. She practically bullied him. "Seriously. Don't be a mouse. Now shut up and listen."

Hank rolled his eyes and patted her head, as she resumed hugging him.

"When I got here, I found Milton, or maybe he found me. I told him everything—things I never tell anyone. And then I told him to help."

Hank interrupted, speaking to the crown of her head. "You told him to help?"

"Yeah. I told him to. I tell people what to do," she said in a brazen huff. "It's who I am. I'm assertive, you see?"

Hank smiled. "Yeah. I'm finding that out."

"He makes things better for people, so I ran to him like a child. I was scared. He was not."

Hank laid a small kiss on her head.

"He's such a sap," Rio said with a laugh. "But now, I'm not so scared. Not of dying, anyway. He knows what to do. He's brave and kind. I love him very much.

"And no! Not like that!" Rio scolded, as she knew what Hank was thinking.

She punished him with a thump on the chest, hard enough to hurt, before snuggling back into it. He found her to be exceptionally rough, as she rubbed her chin hard on his sternum while shaking him for emphasis.

"I mean, come on!" she chided. "He's my papa bear! He swats away fear like bees, keeping them from the honey he sees inside me."

"Ah…" Hank interrupted. "Papa Bear? Honey?"

Rio unwrapped Hank from her arms and grabbed him underneath both sides of his rib cage. She dug in enough to show she could stop him from breathing if she cared to.

"Look here, Pretty Boy. If you tell Milton my pet name, I will break you like a mule."

Rio's threat caused Hank only slight concern. Perhaps he was becoming braver, but more likely it was because she still kept her pelvis pressed against him while making her idle threat. He spoke down to her twisted smile.

"I am not a pretty boy."

"You have pretty eyes," she shot back, as if he didn't know.

After a long moment of staring, Hank asked Rio's smirk, "Does Milton call you Honey?"

"Mmm, no," she said into his shirt, hugging him again.

Hank again stroked her hair.

Can I call you Honey?

Rio hugged him harder. She spoke wistfully, sounding older than she was.

"It's been two of us, Milton and me, for a long time, and bad Realities get bigger. Every time some Dot gets PEPed, a can of whoop-ass opens on them. They get overwhelmed and beat down, despite their humble nature."

Rio swallowed hard before giving Hank praise. "When you make Reality happen, you push the world around the way other people want it. In a way that makes them happy. You bring out good in the worst of us. You pass no judgment, show no contempt, offer everything, and ask nothing for reward."

Rio found the belt loop centered on the back of Hank's brushed denim jeans. She played with it by pulling hard, as if by doing so she could make him naked.

"You never make a single selfish Reality for yourself." She reared back again to look at his eyes as she teased him with great honor. "It's ridiculous. Really. You're too nice to be true."

"Well, here I am," he said down to her.

Rio pulled hard on the belt loop, then let go, causing his pelvis to thump her in the stomach. As it did, she deftly pried his hands from her body, holding him again by the elbows. She then leaned back as far as she could, forcing him to keep her from falling flat on the floor. To do this, he grabbed her firmly by both sides of her ribs.

Hank breathed heavy, but not from the effort, for Rio was rather light. But the meaty folds of her breasts now rested on both his thumbs, and his hormones raced like crazy.

"I have a hard time believing in you," she said from her precarious position, craning her neck to look up at his alabaster white face. "I pored over every Reality you have, and none of them benefit you, other than with a job and a place to live."

Rio swayed side to side, leaning back further each time, trusting Hank to not let her skull crack on the stonework floor. He obediently kept her safe, even though he very much wanted to reel her in for a kiss.

"You're a busy person. You have Realities everywhere. You hand them out like Christmas candy. Nothing big, nothing fancy, but each a thoughtful gesture."

Rio closed her eyes and suddenly released her grip on Hank's elbows. She let her arms dangle down and her head hang back, placing her life in his hands. His eyes grew wide from experiencing this exercise in trust. After a half minute, she groped blindly at his sides for two more of his belt loops, using them to pull herself to safety. Once again wrapped in his arms, she pressed an ear to his chest, listening to his heart pound.

"I followed every one of those candy-coated treats you give. Every single one. I just finished my investigation when you walked in, you see. I'm sorry I skipped Milton's get-together, but I'm doing my job. I mean, you've got many many thousands of Realities out there. I don't know how you do it."

Rio wanted nothing more than to be held in Hank's arms forever. She couldn't remember feeling this way about a man before. It would have freaked her out at any other time in her life, but here, safe in her quarters in Milton's hidden mansion, being held by who was probably the nicest man in the world, nothing seemed more perfect.

"I can't find an ounce of ill will in your body. You have no hate, no envy."

"You can stop talking now," Hank said, growing tired of Rio's praise.

She knew she should release her affectionate prisoner, but couldn't bring herself to it. Soon though, or they'd start sweating.

"It borders on bizarre. I have to trust Milton, that he knows what he's doing. I hope you can help. I do. Milton brought me here, and now you too, for the very same reason. You have to help. You do."

I have to help?

"Just don't let go of me until I say I'm okay."

You don't have to worry about that.