I feel like I should warn you that, if you think Cecil Normack is creepy now . . . um, tighten up your seatbelts. I'm not pulling punches this time. Now, obviously, there are certain things that I won't describe in detail, but suffice it to say that, any disgusting thing you've heard of a pedophile doing to a victim? It's a safe bet Cecil has done it before.

This man isn't an inhuman monster. But he's as close to one as I could make him.

.

A delicate jaw. A mouth uncomfortable with, but not unused to, scowling. Bright, gleaming grey-violet eyes. Untamable black hair tumbling down a rigid back. Thin, taut, angry. Vulnerable. Desperate for approval. As Cecil Normack took in the full measure of his vice-president for the first time, he realized—not for the first time—that photographs and video footage just never did their subjects proper justice.

Mokuba's voice had the keening timbre of a pitifully young child trying far too hard to grow up. He was dressed expensively, but casually, in black jeans, running shoes, a dark blue t-shirt, and a yellow puffer vest. A locket, painted to resemble a Magic & Wizards card back, hung low against his chest by a thin cord.

It was like the young Kaiba were daring anyone to comment on how unprofessional he looked, just so he could sneer at them and pretend to be his brother.

Cecil's easy grin widened.

This boy was glorious.

Cecil turned his attention back toward Astor, who didn't project himself as half so interesting. "I was talking to Moshi. He wanted me to thank you for your help earlier." Cecil winked.

"Oh," said Astor, blinking, like he didn't even remember who Moshi was. "Uh, sure. Thank you, Cecil. I appreciate that. Tell him it was no trouble."

Cecil bowed his head. "Got it." He stole another glance at little Mokuba. "But, I can see that I interrupted a private meeting. Forgive me. I just wanted to say that it's great to meet you both, and I'm looking forward to working with you. I'll, ah . . . head out and let you get back to business. See you next week."

Astor smiled. "Yeah. See you."

Cecil bowed again. "By your leave, sir," he said to the boy.

Mokuba gestured dismissively. ". . . Next week, then," he said, in a last-ditch attempt at decorum. Cecil liked that. He knew that his vice-president didn't like him. Didn't trust him. The people that adults trusted all too easily were the ones that children seemed to hate the most. Cecil knew this. Often, he counted on it. But all the same, Mokuba had remembered his manners. He and his beloved Niisama really were trying to change.

On the one hand, Cecil always felt heartened when he saw people trying their hardest to battle their personal demons. It was inspiring. But then, he also wanted to take Mokuba aside and tell him that he didn't have to change at all.

He was already perfect.

Strolling down the hall toward the southern elevator, Cecil had a bounce in his step that he didn't even bother trying to camouflage. By the time he'd made it to the ground floor, out into the main parking lot, he was practically skipping. Cecil fished a pack of Lucky Strikes out of his pocket—sure, they were cliché, but Cecil liked clichés—and punched a number into his new phone as he pressed it against his ear. Slim answered just as Cecil struck a match.

"Well?"

Cecil grinned, clenching his cigarette between his teeth. "Saddle up, cowboy! The coast isn't just clear, my friend, it's lined with rose petals."

"What? You mean they don't know about . . . ? Where are you right now? Nobody can hear you, right? Damn it, man, please tell me you're not on one of your reckless binges again!"

Cecil chuckled. "Calm down, Slimmy-baby. We're golden. Look, you don't know how this place works. They're staunch traditionalists out here. Nobody's going to tell Kaiba-shachou about this, because if they do, they'll get fired. The only people who know about you wouldn't dare tell anybody else about you. They swore me to secrecy."

". . . Seriously?"

"Seriously."

". . . Fine. Okay. I'll trust you. I guess that means we're clear for next week, then."

Cecil took a long draw, and let the smoke drift leisurely through his teeth.

"Excellent."