She sits quietly on the armchair in the corner, curled up like a cat on the thick cushion, legs tucked securely beneath her. Her eyes are distant; she is thinking of things not in the present time and place, her mind wandering far away. For a girl who seems so grounded, this is an unusual sight - and indeed, Takeuchi Rio does not often daydream (or even dream at all). The very idea of making up an impossible scenario just seems to add to her misery, but...

Every now and then she can't help but hold a little hope in her heart. She knows death well, knows that one day it will come to wrap its cold hands around her neck. She knows that there is no future for her, but still she hopes, sometimes - still she wishes for impossible things, sits curled in this plush chair and thinks about what things would be like if she wasn't... different.

She doesn't ask for much. She has been hurt before, badly, and cannot ask anyone for anything. But still she hopes. She longs for a gift from someone precious, a smile or a soft pat on the head. She wants to be told that she has done well. They are very simple desires, and still she feels selfish for thinking about them. Still she feels as if it is wrong to hope for these things, as if...

Rio closes her eyes and sinks deeper into the cushions, sighing softly, and a smile spreads across her lips. In the center of the room, Eyes Rutherford is playing a waltz. His hands move fluidly across the keys of his grand piano, and as he spins out a carefully composed tune he is unaware of the heart slowly mending in the corner.