"Spit it out. C'mon, spit it out."

His daughter spat the red crayon into his hand without a fight, perhaps having realized that it was not as tasty as it had looked. The half of the chubby crayon that she had bitten off was in one piece, with bits of the papery wrapper still clinging to it. "Sheesh, Lili," Truman said as he telekinetically floated both halves of the crayon onto the fireplace mantle. "You didn't even take the paper off." He wiped his saliva-covered hand on his khaki slacks.

Lili didn't answer, her attention focused on an orange crayon just out of her reach. She put one chubby arm out, and the crayon began rolling towards her slowly. He picked her up before it rolled too close to her. "No coloring today," he said to the man quietly observing the scene near the entrance. "She's in a bitey mood. Aren't you?" The toddler squirmed, grasping at his beard. "You're a little fly-trap!"

She stopped squirming. "Marley!" she yelled, clapping happily. Marley, a Venus fly trap that lived in the greenhouse, was one of her favorite plants.

"What does Marley do?"

"Bites!"

"Show Sasha what Marley does!"

She turned to face Sasha, gleefully opening and closing her mouth in an imitation of Marley's snapping jaws. "Amazing," Sasha said, sounding as impressed as he possibly could. "Simply awe-inspiring." He'd been gathering up the remaining crayons scattered around the living room and floating them onto the mantle.

Encouraged by his praise, she snapped her teeth at him again, her baby teeth clicking. "Wow. The flies don't stand a chance."

"They sure don't! But don't let her bite you if you can help it," Truman warned. "Her teeth are actually pretty sharp. But thanks so much for watching her!"

Sasha shrugged nonchalantly. "It's no trouble. I have a clear schedule for the next few days." He then reached out, ready for Truman to hand Lili over to him.

Truman made no move to do so. "Her lunch is already in the fridge."

Sasha put his arms down at his sides. "Yes. I am aware of that."

"You can mix one squirt of Sriracha in her ketchup. But just one."

"Truman. You told me all of this both times that you called me yesterday."

"I'm just reminding you because she might try to trick you into giving her more. And that is a big mistake."

Sasha stared at Lili, skeptical that a two-year old would be able to trick him into doing anything. Lili stared back impassively, confident that she could. "Thank you for the warning," Sasha said, holding his arms out again.

Truman didn't budge. "She really likes hot-dogs, but she only gets half of one for lunch. Those things have a lot of sodium in them."

"You are late for work."

What else was new? "You can save the other half for later. Or you can eat it, if you want."

Sasha pushed a strand of hair back from his forehead. "You're stalling."

He was. "I'm bracing myself. I know she's gonna start crying soon." Lili became very distressed any time she had to be separated from him. She'd always been kind of a clingy baby, but it had become a real problem ever since his wife had up and left them without a word a few months ago. The therapist had said that the abandonment had caused to her experience separation anxiety. She used to scream and cry whenever he had to leave, sometimes until she passed out from exhaustion. It had been difficult for him as well. They shared a mental link- all psychic parents had one with their children- and feeling all of her panic and fear as he went about his day at work had been nigh unbearable. They were both doing much better now than they had been- he was no longer rushing home ten times a day to check on her, and she had a small circle of people she was slowly letting herself trust.

Sasha was one of those people, and at this moment Lili was calm, idly toying with the fabric of Truman's sleeve as he held her. That could change the second he gave her to Sasha and tried to leave. "What's your plan for today?" he asked, trying to draw his departure out.

Sasha knew what he attempting to do, but he answered the question anyway. "I'll probably just put the History Channel on while I watch her play with the toys she can't accidently ingest."

Truman frowned. "The History Channel?"

"What's wrong with the History Channel? It's educational."

"Yeah, it is." Truman glanced down at his daughter doubtfully. "But you know that Lili's only two."

"I do know that."

"History is, uh, educational. But have you considered that it is also scary?"

Sasha stared at him blankly. "She won't be able to understand the subject matter well enough to be afraid of it."
"But those documentaries have reenactments in them," he said. "I don't want her to see some guys head get lopped off in a fake battle."

"Fine. I'll put on Sesame Street, then."

"No! No Sesame Street!" Truman said hastily. Lili frowned, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

Sasha raised an eyebrow. "I thought she liked Sesame Street."

"She did," Truman explained as Lili began squirming again. Jeez, how could a toddler have such powerful kicks? "But a week ago, Big Bird did something that offended her." He sighed, the memory of that particular tantrum flashing in his mind. "She still hasn't forgiven him yet."

Lili gave an angry growl. "He's Bad Bird!" she yelled, sounding far more menacing than a child her age had any right to.

"I never did trust that yellow buzzard," Sasha said.

"For the sake of my flat screen, please do not put on Sesame Street. Put on…" Truman thought for a moment. "Put on Animal Planet."

"Animal Planet?"

"Yeah."

"The documentaries they show on that channel are also full of violence," Sasha pointed out. "And unlike the History Channel, it's all real."

"They don't show that stuff until later. It's all cats and dogs right now. You like doggies, don't you Lili?"

Lili smiled, all thoughts of the evil yellow bird suddenly disappearing. "I like Wheezy!" she said, bouncing happily in his arms.

Sasha bit back a laugh. "What is a Wheezy?"

"Oh, it's this Boxer that's been running around the neighborhood," Truman answered. "I think she's a stray."

"Dare I ask why she's called Wheezy?"

"When she pants, she sounds like an old man. You remember Ernie Fusidili?"

"Unfortunately."

"She sounds just like him. I don't think she's sick or anything though."

Lili chimed in. "Wheezy-girl likes Doritos!"

Truman laughed. "Yeah, she does. If you levitate them over her head she jumps up and eats them." He looked out the living room window, half-expecting to see the dog rooting through their garbage.

"Should you be feeding a dog junk food?"

"She eats trash on a regular basis. I don't think that there's a substance on earth toxic enough to take that animal out." He glanced down at his wristwatch. If he left right now, he'd only be five minutes late, and since he was usually anywhere from ten to fifteen minutes late on any given day, he technically still had five more minutes to hang out here and-

"Truman. Hand the child over and go to work."

Damn it, Sasha must've been reading his thoughts. "You know, she's been kind of antsy since my mom's been away. Just give me one more minute."

"Stalling will only make things worse. And you have an important meeting to attend."

Ugh. Those statements were both correct. Sometimes being the Head of Field and Strategy Management really sucked. He sighed and kissed his daughter on the forehead. "Okay, sweetie," he said, gently. "Papa has to go to work now. Take care of Sasha for me, alright? Make sure he eats his veggies."

Lili blinked. "Papa gotta go?"

He felt her anxiety seep into his brain and drop into the pit of his stomach. "Yeah, Papa's gotta go." Her bottom lip quivered. "But he- I'll be back! And Sasha will be here with you. You like Sasha?"

Lili nodded solemnly. "I like Sasha," she said, and when he passed her over she went without a fuss. Her tiny fists clutched Sasha's shoulders tightly.

They were doing good today, but it wasn't over yet. He patted her on the head. "Bye, Lili. I love you so much!"

"Bye-bye, Papa," she replied, tears gathering in her bright hazel eyes. She pouted, her anxiety worsening, and by then fear had also crept in, fear that he would abandon her just like her mother had. Truman paused, rooted to his spot, the temptation to call headquarters and tell them that he couldn't make it in rising.

"Lili, do you want to wear my glasses?"

Her head snapped towards Sasha quickly, her fear dissolving almost instantly, though some anxiety still lingered. She reached up, her little hands patting the side of Sasha's face as she tried to grab his glasses. He shifted her onto his left arm as he took the dark glasses off and put them gently on her face. The glasses were too big, of course, and they slid down her nose as she turned to smile toothily at her father. The square lenses took up nearly half of her face. "Oh, man," Truman said as he readjusted the glasses, "you're the coolest kid I've ever seen." God, how did an oaf like him produce a child so freaking adorable? She definitely hadn't inherited it from her mother.

"She's certainly the coolest kid in this neighborhood," Sasha said, although from the way he was squinting Truman couldn't be sure of how well he could actually see at this moment.

Lili took the glasses off and promptly put the end of the ear piece in her mouth. "Lili don't!" Truman took the glasses away as Lili whined in protest. He wiped the arm off with the hem of his dress shirt, noticing the little teeth marks in the black plastic coating. "Er…Sorry," he apologized sheepishly. "I'll buy you a new pair."

"Don't bother," Sasha said as he telekinetically put the glasses back onto his face. He tilted his head away from Lili's grasping fingers. "This is my cheap pair. You can make it up to me by going to work and telling Ford that I got approximately six hours and twelve minutes of sleep last night."

That was an impressive number for Sasha. "It is true," Sasha insisted before Truman could voice his doubts. "Milla can confirm." He blushed for one quarter of a second as he realized what his words implied. "Get your mind out of the gutter and go to work. Ack!" Lili had smacked him in the nose in her attempt to snatch his glasses by the bridge.

"I'm going, I'm going. Goodbye Lili! I love you!"

Lili gave him a distracted wave, still doing her best to get a hold of Sasha's glasses. "Bye-bye Papa! Gimme!"

"My glasses are not meant for eating," Sasha stated firmly as Truman walked out the door.

Ugh.

Ugggghhh.

Thank God today is over, Truman thought for what seemed like the thousandth time since he had left headquarters about an hour ago.

The nonsense had begun the moment he'd arrived at the office. Against all odds, he'd made it to work on time, an occurrence so rare that even the dock guard had commented on it. But when he'd entered the lobby to get the mandatory brain scan (something all employees, from the mail clerks to the Grand Head, had to submit to before being allowed into the rest of the building) the words BRAIN SCAN NOT FOUND had appeared on the scanner's screen in big red letters. It had taken two hours and one very uncomfortable mental interrogation to sort out what had happened. As it turned out, last night someone had hacked into the scanner and deleted Truman's (and only Truman's) scan. That someone was Petito, a super-intelligent sugar-glider that had been discovered a few months ago in the ruins of a laboratory in Borneo and was currently under the care of Agent Geary. Petito had held a grudge against Truman ever since he had nearly choked to death while tangled in his beard and this petty act of minor sabotage was his revenge. Truman hadn't bothered with being angry about the incident- stupid stuff like that was always happening to him for one reason or another.

The day had just gone downhill from there, which was quite a feat considering how it had begun. The debacle with the brain scanner had caused him to be fifteen minutes late for his meeting with the other higher-ups. This particular meeting had been arranged yesterday afternoon by Molton Yuppa, the current Vice Head, and that fact alone was enough for Truman to know that it was going be a huge, irritating waste of time. Yuppa had taken over the position of Vice Head about six months ago, after Truman's father had suddenly passed away. Yuppa had been appointed to the position, which was strange, because usually the Grand Head and the Vice Head were usually chosen by those employed by the agency through a vote. Sasha suspected that the federal government had had a hand in Yuppa's sudden ascension, and Truman could easily believe it. Within the agency, opinion on Yuppa was divided. Some liked him, and thought that his 'progressive' outlook on the relations between psychics and non-psychics would lead the agency in a more positive direction. Others thought that Yuppa was more concerned with pleasing non-psychic politicians and organizations than he was with the original duties of the agency. Truman, for his part, disliked how willing he was to throw other psychics, some of them even their own agents, under the bus in order to seem less threatening to the public at large.

Needless to say, Yuppa's proposal had been just as stupid and awful as he had predicted it would be. It had involved allowing government agencies like the IRS and the Department of Health and Human Services to 'borrow' lower-ranking agents for a temporary period of time. Why would a bunch of tax collectors need the services of a psychic agent? What could a Psychonaut do for the DHHS that their non-psychic employees couldn't? Truman had not bothered to ask these questions because the whole idea was unbelievably dumb, and Truman had said as much when Yuppa had asked for feedback.

Yuppa had faltered then, the confident smile sliding off of his face. He hadn't expected to hear such a blunt rejection of his idea, especially not from the man that he considered to be the village idiot. He regained his composure and had politely asked Truman to explain his disagreement. Truman had told him that the Psychonauts already had enough responsibilities, without the additional workload from these non-psychic government organizations.

"It just doesn't benefit us at all," he had said, arms crossed over his chest.

"It's about improving our image," Yuppa had replied, sounding like a slimy marketing executive from an 80's movie. "At the moment, the public doesn't trust us. If the non-psychic population sees our agents working hard to make their lives easier, they'll respect us more."

Truman had shaken his head then, barely able to keep himself from outright scoffing. "If the public doesn't trust us now, why do you think they will after we screw up their tax returns?"

"We can train them," Yuppa had answered, ignoring Truman's actual question.

"That's a waste of time. And why do we even need to improve our image anyway? We do the work that we're supposed to do competently enough."

Murmurs of agreement with Truman's assessment had spread throughout the conference room then, with even those who were more open to Yuppa's ideas expressing their doubts. Sensing his impeding defeat, Yuppa hadn't been able to resist giving one last parting shot. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at how little you care about image," he had said, practically sneering, "Given how little you care about your own."

From there, and agrument had ensued, one that had become increasingly personal with each escalation. Ford had been forced to adjourn the meeting in order to prevent a physical fight after Yuppa had brought up Truman's failing marriage. Truman had left the conference room wanting very much to punch something in its face. Yuppa's ridiculous proposal had been rejected before it could be seriously considered, and that should have been a victory for him. But that asshole had gone and brought up his wife, a subject that was still very sore for him, and Truman's anger quickly burned out into a heavy melancholy that had followed him throughout the rest of the day. He had been thoroughly drained by the time he had left headquarters.

He felt a little better now, pulling in next to Milla's convertible in the driveway of his two story brick house. It wasn't a large house, but it was in a nice neighborhood with plenty of space between himself and his neighbors, and it had a backyard big enough to contain both an outdoor garden and a moderately-sized greenhouse. The house was located at the very end of the cul-de-sac, just before the line of trees that separated the neighborhood from a nearby pond. It was a good place to raise a kid, even if his neighbors did buy into the whole lawn culture thing.

He walked up the gravel pathway that led to the house, returning the greetings given to him by the various flowers that had been planted near the porch, a mix of wide-eyed Susans, yarrows, xenias, and azaleas. The hanging fuchsias had a complaint. That Rude Man watered us wrong, Elliot said, representing all of the flowers that lived in this particular pot.

Oh boy. What did he do? This group of flowers could be incredibly fussy at times.

He dumped an entire bottle of water on one side of us, instead of taking the time to evenly distribute the water the correct manner, Elliot explained indignantly. Truman could feel the outrage coming off of all the pretty magenta and purple blossoms. It took twenty minutes for everyone to get their share.

I could have wilted! Contessa added.

They all looked fine to him, but it was always best to just placate the easily upset fuchsias. I'm real sorry about that, fellas.

You should smash his stems!

Yeah, I'll get right on that. Before I go, does anyone need any more water?

The plants grumbled a collective 'no', and Truman bid them goodnight, hoping that they would settle down by morning.

The smell of pizza and the sound of Tim Allen's voice greeted him when he entered the house. Milla and Sasha were seated on the cream-colored leather couch, Lili sleeping peacefully in Milla's lap. One of the Toy-Story movies was playing on the flatscreen T.V. A closed box of Papa John's pizza lay on the coffee table, alongside a clean plate and a two-liter of Pepsi.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see that pizza," Truman said, tossing his briefcase onto the recliner adjacent to the couch, his jacket following soon after.

"Hello, Darling," Milla said, her voice soft and sweet. Her gloved fingers stroked Lili's hair as she slept.

"You can thank Milla for the pizza," Sasha said, scooting over so that Truman would have more room to sit. He wasn't wearing the olive turtleneck that he had come in with. Instead he had changed into one of Truman's blue plaid button-downs. The shirt was two sizes too big, and Sasha was practically swimming in it.

"Thanks Milla. Um…" He gestured as Sasha's shirt. "What's with the…did Lili have an accident?"

The corners of Sasha's mouth turned downwards. "That beast slobbered all over me, much to the delight of your child." He took a swig from a bottle of mineral water. Ew. Where had he gotten that from?

"Beast? Oh, you mean Wheezy." Truman laughed as he sat down on the couch between them. "She's friendly."

Sasha did not find the incident as funny as Truman did. "I'll have to wash that sweater at least twice," he complained.

"Sasha," Milla said, admonishing him gently. "You have three other sweaters in that color."
"What has happened to your wardrobe?" Sasha continued, picking at the oversized shirt that he was wearing.

"What do you mean?" Truman flipped the pizza box open. Sausage, green peppers, and olives, with no mushrooms in sight. Milla was a saint.

"At least ninety percent of your casual shirts are some variation of plaid, short-sleeved button down," Sasha said as Truman levitated a plate with a slice of pizza into his hand.

Truman shrugged. "They're Dad Shirts, man. I pretty much have to wear them." It wasn't like he'd ever been that fashionable, and most of his shirts wound up getting torn and stained with dirt anyway.

"Quit picking on him, Sasha," Milla said, the warning in her tone similar to that of a teacher rebuking a child. To him, she asked "How are you? I heard that your day was not the best."

"I'm good. It's the same old shi-stuff," he replied before taking a bite of his pizza.

"Yuppa's a prick," Sasha stated plainly, and Milla nodded in agreement without even chastising him for swearing within hearing distance of a child (even one that was asleep).

"I really don't want to talk about work right now," Truman said after swallowing. He looked at Milla, noting that she looked a bit worn out herself. She was wearing comfortable grey lilac slacks and flats instead her normal dress and heels, and she had her hair pulled back in a bun. "At least not my work anyway. How about you? Are you doing alright?"

Lili had turned over in her sleep, and Milla readjusted the child's position on her lap before she fell of the couch. "I'm a bit behind on some of the case reports," she admitted, "but it's not a big deal."

He felt Sasha shift in his seat behind him. "You should bring some of it to me," Sasha said. There was an undercurrent of guilt in his tone. If Milla was behind on her paperwork, it may have had something to do with the fact that her partner was out on a two-week suspension.

Truman didn't know the whole story of just how Sasha had gotten himself suspended. What he had heard was this: Sasha had been aiding another researcher with an experiment when he had had a sudden epiphany regarding his own research midway through. He had then thrown himself into his work, not eating, not sleeping, and subsisting on a diet of coffee and cigarettes for days until Ford Cruller kicked him out of the laboratory. Too sleep deprived to heed the Grand Head's warning, Sasha had then attempted to break into the lab by psi-blasting the key-card reader at the entrance. The key-card reader, being made of a strong psycho-resistant material for this very reason, had not been damaged by Sasha's efforts, but Ford had had no choice but to put Sasha on a two-week suspension, if only so that Sasha would have time to "stop acting like such a dumbass and get his head on straight," in the Grand Head's own words.

That had been a week ago, and Truman was relieved to see that Sasha was looking a whole lot better than he had been.

"You need to rest, darling," Milla said. "I can handle it."

"It isn't fair that my bad decisions should be affecting you negatively," Sasha replied.

"It's only a bit of paperwork."

"And I am mostly recovered from my brief lapse in sanity." He leaned forward in his seat, looking past Truman at Milla. "I can do some of it tomorrow night." Wow. Truman never would have thought that he would ever see Sasha Nein begging to do paperwork.

Neither had Milla, apparently. "Okay," she said, giving in. "We'll finish it together."
Sasha nodded, leaning back into the couch, his guilt somewhat assuage. Jealousy at their easy relationship unexpectedly rose up within Truman, and he smothered it before Milla could pick up on it with her emphatic abilities.

He changed the subject by asking Sasha how his day with Lili had gone. "Did she get upset after I left?"

"A little bit," Sasha answered. "She became stressed once she stopped attempting to steal my glasses and realized that you were gone." On the television, Rex and the other toys were lowering a rope made out of plastic monkeys. "This movie doesn't make any sense. How can the toys be alive but not the other inanimate objects?"

"It's a movie for kids, Sasha," Milla said. "You aren't supposed to think so hard about it."

"It's what I do best, though," Sasha replied wryly. "I took her outside to calm her down," he said to Truman. "She responds well to your mother's gardenias."

Lili's eyes fluttered open at that moment. She sat up quickly. "Papa!" She scrambled across Milla's lap onto Truman, who was just barely able to put his plate on the table before she could accidently knock it out of his hand. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Hi Papa!" she said, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Hey, sweetie!" he replied, just as happy to see her. She pulled back, her hands still on his shoulders. She smiled up at him happily, relieved that he had come back to her once again. She greeted him like this every night he came home from work, as though he had been gone for months rather than a few hours. He hoped that one day she'd be able to regard his return from the office as something unworthy of such excitement, even if the selfish part of him enjoyed the fact that there was someone so genuinely ecstatic to see him night after night. "Did you have fun with Sasha and Milla today?"

"We went to Dollar Tree!" Lili exclaimed.

So that's where Sasha had gotten his gross drink from. "Dollar Tree? What the heck kind of tree is that?"

Lili shook her head, her dark pigtails whipping her in the face. "No, Papa," she giggled. "It's a store!"

"Oh! It's a store!" Truman said, enlightened. "What did you get? Did Sasha buy you something?"

"I got a hot dog!"

"A hot dog?" He sent a quick thought to Sasha. We had hot dogs in the fridge, man.

It's not food. "Lili, show your dad the hot dog," Sasha said, scanning the living room. Whatever he was looking for was under the coffee table, and he telekinetically pulled it out enough so that Lili could find it. She took over from there, putting one of her arms out and smoothly bringing the hotdog to her hand after a second of psychic focus.

"Woah. You are so talented!" Truman said, legitimately awed by his daughter's mastery of telekinesis. He certainly couldn't recall being that good at her age.

Lili was more interested in showing off her new toy than in her father's praise. "Hot dog!" she declared, offering the rubber toy to him. It was indeed a hot dog with a bun, slightly bigger than the actual food item, with a squiggly strip of plastic ketchup on it. Truman gave it an experimental squeeze and the toy made a loud squeak in response. "Oh, Lili, thank you so much!" He brought the toy closer to his mouth. "I can't wait to eat this!"

Lili's mouth dropped open in shock. "Noooooo Papa!" she cried, reaching up to take the toy away from him. "Don't!"

"Why not? It looks so- ah!" In her haste to get the toy back, she had accidently kicked him in the stomach. Good thing he had a lot of fat there- a blow like that on Sasha probably would've winded him. "Lili, watch your feet."

"Don't eat my hot dog!" she yelled, though she made an effort to be a little more careful as she tried to grab it out of his hand. "It's not for eating!"

"What? It's not?" He looked at the rubber toy incredulously. "But it looks so tasty!"

"It's not!"

"Oh all right. If you say so." He handed the toy back to her, and she clasped it with both hands. "What do you do with it then?"

She squeezed it with both hands, the toy squeaking loudly. She giggled and did it five more times. That's going to be so much fun to listen to all day. Thanks, Truman thought to Sasha.

You're welcome, Sasha thought back, sounding proud of himself.

"Sasha," Milla began as Lili gleefully played with her new toy. "Where did you find that?"

"In the toy aisle," he answered.

Though she was smiling, Milla's eyes had a hint of puzzlement in them. "In the toy aisle," she repeated, sounding more than a little skeptical.

"Technically, she found it and pulled it off the shelf on her own. But we were definitely in the toy aisle when it happened," Sasha explained.

Milla seemed like she wanted to interrogate Sasha further about the hot dog's origin for some reason, but then thought better of it. "She really seems to like it," she said instead and the matter was dropped.

Lili usually forgot about cheap junk toys within a day or two, but something about that hot dog had really captured her attention. She was still carrying it around with her five days later, when Truman's mother had returned home from her trip to Hawaii. It was admittedly a bit odd- aside from squeaking when squeezed the hot dog didn't really do much of anything. And yet, she carried it with her everywhere, sometimes in her hands and sometimes telekinetically (though even with her skill she could not keep the latter up for very long). Maybe it was because Sasha had been the one to give to her. Maybe it was because she could easily toss it around without doing a lot of damage. Maybe she just really liked hot dogs. A look into her mind only revealed that she liked the toy and had no intention of giving it up anytime soon. That was fine by Truman, especially since she had stopped obsessively squeaking it. Perhaps it was like a security thing for her?

She was holding the hot dog toy now, while strapped into to her car seat. They were on their way home from the airport, with Truman driving and his mother and Lili in the backseat. Lili had been very eager to see her grandmother after a week of her being away, and his mother had worried that she would try to get out of her car seat if she sat in the front. So in the back she sat, and Lili had only attempted to unbuckle her seatbelt once.

It was a two hour drive home from the airport, and they'd spent most of it talking about how Iona's trip had gone. She'd been visiting a friend who lived in Halawa, a botanist who had managed to create a rainbow patterned hibiscus and had requested Iona's help in getting the offspring to share the parent flower's original appearance. She'd been hesitant to go at first- she was the one who normally took care of Lili while Truman was at work, and she knew that finding a babysitter for her fickle granddaughter would be a difficult task. Truman had insisted that she go, citing the fact that she hadn't seen that particular friend in years, and that she deserved a break after being such a big help to them these last few months. She had finally relented when the therapist told them that her being away for a short time would help Lili learn to cope with any prolonged absences from Truman that she might have to deal with in the future.

"Those seeds she gave us might not all be rainbow-patterned," Iona said as she fed Lili an apple slice. Lili's sharp little teeth made quick work of the green slice. "You know how hard it is to breed hibiscuses consistently."

"It was still nice of her to give them to us," Truman replied. He glanced back at them in the rearview mirror. There was not a single spot of sunburn on his mother despite the long hours she had spent out in the Hawaiian sun. But she had always spent a lot of time outdoors throughout her life, and had never had any issues from it. "Hey, Lili," Truman said as his mother wiped a stray bit of apple off of her face. "What kind of flower is grandma growing?"

Lili bounced in her seat. "The biscuit flower!"

"What color is it?"

"We dunno!"

They both laughed at her honest response. "Is it a big flower or a little flower?" Iona asked.

"It's big!" she yelled, throwing her arms up enthusiastically. The hot dog flew out of her hand, hit the ceiling, and fell into the back of the car. "Uh-oh," Lili said. She began to fiddle with her seatbelt. "I get it."

"No-no, baby," Iona said quickly, putting her hand on the clasp of Lili's seatbelt. "Let grandma do it." The toy went straight into Iona's free hand within a second. "Here you are," she said as she put the hot dog into Lili's outstretched hands.

"What do you say, Lili?" Truman asked.

"Thank you Grandma," Lili answered.

"You're welcome, honey-suckle. I bet Wheezy's really going to like that hot dog."

Lili looked up at her, arms crossing over the hot dog protectively. "It's mine!"

Iona blinked in surprise. "Oh…Papa bought that for you?"

"Sasha got it for her a few days ago," Truman clarified. "Lili, what's Sasha's favorite tree?"

"The Dollar Tree!"

Iona's brows furrowed in mild confusion. She looked a bit uncertain; her expression similar to that of Milla's the other night, when she had questioned Sasha about the toy. "What's wrong, Mom?" he asked, turning the blinker on.

"Oh, it's nothing, dear, she said, smiling serenely. She tucked a strand of gray hair behind her ear. "It was nice of Sasha to buy her…that."

Truman merged into the exit lane. "Why did you think it was for Wheezy?"

"W-well…" She glanced over at Lili, who was banging the toy against the window. "Because it's a dog toy."

"What?" Truman nearly stopped right there on the exit ramp. "A dog toy?"

Iona nodded, reaching into her dress pocket and pulling out her cell phone. She flipped it open and spent a few seconds searching for something. At the next red light she leaned over the seat and showed him the screen. There was a photo of a small Pomeranian, holding a familiar looking hot dog in its mouth. "That's Haunani's dog," she said as she flipped her phone closed. "It's the exact same toy."

The light turned green, so Truman hit the gas pedal, unsure of what to say. He looked back at his daughter, still gleefully banging the hot dog on the window. In the car next to them, a Jack Russell terrier licked the passenger window, paws on the glass and tail wagging excitedly.

Although Sasha's suspension had ended three days after the truth about the hot dog had been revealed, Truman did not have a chance to speak with him about the matter until a week later. Sasha and Milla had both been sent to the Alps to deal with a rouge group of watch-makers hell bent on creating their own steampunk army of automatons. After confirming that both agents had completed both the mission and any paperwork associated with it, he called them both into his office and had demanded that Sasha explain himself.

Sasha had defended himself, claiming to be innocent of any intentional wrongdoing. "We were in the toy aisle," he had insisted, not intimidated by the annoyed parent sitting across from him. "She just grabbed it off the shelf. It appeared to be a safe object for her to have, so I bought it."

"You were in the pet toy aisle, man," Truman had replied in disbelief. "How did you not notice that?"

Sasha had glanced down at the brand new silver watch around his wrist. "I…admit that I wasn't paying as much attention to my surroundings at the time as I should have been." He had had the grace to sound a bit sheepish about it, and Truman had felt some of his irritation ebb away. "I had been looking through my coupons."

Milla, who had been observing silently up until then, had spoken up. "They have coupons for the Dollar Tree?"

"Sometimes."

The explanation had been so…Sasha that Truman hadn't been able to maintain his annoyance. "Did you know, Milla?"

She had shrugged. "I had a feeling that there was something off about it. But she was having so much fun with it, and I didn't want to say anything…"she had trailed off, fiddling with the band of a stylish gold watch.
"She's two. She will grow bored of it eventually," Sasha had said confidently.

A month passed, and the hot dog toy had remained Lili's favorite, with no signs of her losing interest in it anytime soon. Where she went, it went, and if she wasn't holding it, she usually had it nearby. Although his kid playing with a toy meant for dogs wasn't exactly something he was particularly happy about, Truman hadn't made any attempts to take it away from her, assuming that eventually it would either be lost or abandoned.

Then they'd gone to the park last week, and Truman had seen the skeptical glances thrown their way by various adults. Nobody, adult or child, had said anything about it to them, as Lili usually preferred to play by herself. But it was pretty obvious that Lili's hot dog was easily recognizable as a dog toy (which made his and Sasha's inability to realize this fact at first even more foolish), and there was a chance that, at some point in the future, some shitty little kid was going to notice and make fun of her for it. And what would happen if she was still carrying the thing around when she entered pre-school? Maybe he was overreacting, but the thought of her being bullied for any reason was unbearable, and with that in mind he concocted a brilliant scheme that would get her to forget about the toy for good.

"Papa!" Lili came running over to him from the kitchen, her arms outstretched. Truman scooped her up with one arm, the other holding his briefcase and a plastic bag from Toys R Us. He took her back into the kitchen, where his mother was making dinner, setting Lili down on a chair and putting his briefcase on the table. The hot dog lay on the floor, forgotten for the moment.

"Lili," he began, sliding his hand into the Toys R Us bag. "I got you something!"

Her eyes widened, and she banged her fists on the table. "Present!"

Truman took the object out of the bag, smiling at Lili's excited gasp. "Sailor Mars!" she exclaimed excitedly, reaching up towards the stuffed plushie with both arms. Internally, Truman breathed a sigh of relief. Lili's favorite scout switched between Mars and Venus every week or so, and he had wound up guessing when he'd bought it on his lunch break.

Her happiness at receiving an unexpected gift was infectious, and Truman passed the toy over to her, watching as she snuggled the plushie. "Thank you Papa!"

She was so freaking cute that Truman had nearly forgotten why he'd bought the plushie in the first place. "You're welcome, sweetie!" He caught sight of the hot dog on the floor and remembered his plan. "Why don't you go show your present to Grandma?"

"Okay!" Lili hopped off the chair and toddled over to the stove, where his mother was stirring what smelled like tomato sauce. Truman telekinetically picked the hot dog up off the floor while Lili had her back turned, and then began making his way towards the living room, intending on hiding the dog toy in his bedroom for the time being. Surely Lili would not miss it now that she had that cute, definitely intended-for-kids-and-not-dogs plushie…

"Hey!"

The word, shrieked in a piercing and accusatory tone, stopped him dead in his tracks. He turned, feeling a whole lot like a child that had just been caught sneaking snacks after bedtime, which given the current circumstances was pretty ironic. Lili glared up at him angrily, her eyes narrowed and her cheeks red with fury. She held the Sailor Mars plushie by its cloth hair. "That's my hot dog!" she yelled.

Truman glanced at his mother helplessly. She met his eyes, and then shook her head, returning her attention to the food that she was cooking. No help from that corner. "Uh…Lili…" he said, smiling down at her weakly. "I was just-"

"Why you take my hot dog? Give it!"

He could feel the heat of her outrage, but he was not going to be intimidated by her. He was, after all, the parent, and she his child. Explaining his actions in a calm, reasonable manner that even a two year old could grasp was certainly something that he could accomplish. "You know, uh, since you have that nice, new toy," he said, pointing at the stuffed plushie that she held in her clenched fist. Was it getting hot in here? Or was that just him picking up on her anger? "I figured that you didn't need this one anymore and that we could…" He glanced out the living room window and spotted Wheezy pawing at their garbage cans. "We could let Wheezy play with it!"

"No!" Lili hurled the plushie over his shoulder with a forceful push of telekinesis and then tried to tug the hot dog out of his hand. "Give it back!"

"H-hey, Lili, no!" He floated the fallen plushie back into his hand, all the while tightening his grip on the hot dog. "We don't throw in the house!" he said, voice stern with disapproval.

That tone of voice was usually enough to get Lili to stop doing whatever it was she was doing, but right now she wasn't having any of it. "Lili, look!" he said, still resisting her telekinetic tugs. "Isn't Sailor Mars way cooler than a hot dog?"

Lili paused, ending her efforts to snatch the hot dog out of her father's hand. She glared up at the Sailor Mars plushie as though it were her worst enemy. She held her arm out towards it and bit her lip, focusing all of her psychic on the plushie. Truman could feel heat building up in his left hand, and he realized that it wasn't just him picking up on her emotions. A small flame, barely more than a flicker, sparked on the plushie's head, and Truman quickly snuffed it out before it could spread any further. "Okay, okay!" he said, relenting. He tossed the unwanted plushie over his shoulder before she could attempt to fire start it again. Holy Moly. Children with pyrokinetic abilities usually didn't start exhibiting them until they turned four or five, but here was his daughter, already lighting things up and likely to improve at doing so within the next few months.

Now was not the time to worry about Lili's budding pyrokinesis. His daughter's anger had subsided, and now she was pouting up at him, eyes wide and shiny with soon to be shed tears. Oh God. He'd made a huge, stupid mistake, hadn't he? He knelt down to her level, offering up the hot dog. "You really like this thing, huh?" he asked as she snatched it from him and held it close. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling like a massive tool. He hadn't realized just how attached she was to this toy specifically, and dog toy or no, he really shouldn't have tried to trick her into giving it up. "I'm really sorry I tried to give your toy to Wheezy," he said, cupping the side of her face. She leaned into the touch, despite still being very upset with him. "I promise I won't do it ever again. Can you forgive me, sweetie?"

She stared at him, scrutinizing him in the way that only a wronged toddler could. Then she nodded. "I can share with Wheezy," she said, before turning and starting towards the front door to do just that.

"No-no, Lili, you don't have to!" Truman said quickly before gently pulling her back. "I'll um, buy her one of her own." And then, just because he could, he pulled her into a hug, which she eagerly returned. "You can play with that hot dog for as long as you want," he said. And if some rotten brat made fun of her for it? Well, then they'd soon find themselves on fire, probably. That wasn't really a good thing, but Truman would deal with that if it ever came up in the future. "Just remember, I'm pretty much obligated to tell anyone you ever date about how you played with a with a dog toy for an extended period of time. It's basically the law."

"Okay, Papa!" Lili replied, too young to realize just how ominous those words actually were.

Eight Years Later

"…She lost that hot dog a few months later," Truman said, scratching his beard. "I think she set it on fire and then threw it in the lake when we were at the park. Or maybe I threw it in the lake after she set it on fire…" He paused, trying to remember the events of that day. "What do you think, Lili? Do you remember?"

Lili did not answer, stunned into an embarrassed silence. Her cheeks were bright red, and her eyes were flickering back and forth between himself and her…boyfriend.

(Wasn't ten too young for a girl to be interested in having a boyfriend? It had to be too young, right?)

"Listen, Lili," he said, raising his free hand up defensively. The other was still handcuffed to the steel psi-proof container that he'd been lugging around with him for the past forty-eight hours. "You knew that I would have tell this story to your…Raz."

Lili covered her face with her hands, groaning loudly.

"I did warn you years ago."

"Oh, God," she muttered into her hands.

"I'm pretty much forced to tell these kinds of stories about you. It's Dad Law."

The boyfri- Raz- hadn't yet said anything. It seemed like he was waiting for Lili to react first, which was good, because it meant that he cared about her feelings. He seemed like a nice kid, and Truman had to give him a ton of brownie points for saving both of their lives within a short period of time. But…boyfriend? Really? Weren't they moving kind of fast? When had his daughter started thinking about boys that way? Had he missed it?

"Dad. Dad!"

Lili's sharp tone brought him out of his thoughts. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her face was no longer bright red. Her expression was a mirror of the one he often had when on those rare occasions he caught her misbehaving. "Yes, sweet pea?"

Her cheeks flared at the endearment, but she didn't comment on it. "I'm not happy that you told my boyfriend an embarrassing story about me," she said.

She certainly was embarrassed, and a little mad, that much he could sense. And yet, she hadn't set a single thing on this plane on fire, and there were many items close by that would have burned easily had she decided to do so. His daughter was so mature and good. There was no way that any ten-year old boy, even one already a Psychonaut with two successful missions under his belt, could ever match it. "I'm sorry you're embarrassed. I really am."

"You met him like five minutes ago and you're already telling those stories."

Actually, they'd been on this plane together for more like an hour, but that detail wasn't important. "I just couldn't stop myself. You know how much I love talking about you." She was his absolute favorite subject. "Can you find it in your heart to forgive your old man?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I forgive you. But only because I'm still really glad that you're not dead or maimed or anything."

Had she been worried about him that much? He would personally make sure that the people responsible for this whole mess would suffer more than just legal consequences for distressing his baby like that. "Thank you for granting mercy upon me."

"Just don't do it again."

The chances of him not doing it again were slim. "I love you so much."

"Yeah, I love you too."

"You're my precious angel."

"Okay, that's enough."

The boyfr- Raz- spoke up, assuming it was safe for him to put his two cents in. "I guess if I ever have to get you present I can just buy you one of those ropey things."

He was quick to learn that Lili's mercy did not extend to smart mouth boys.