The greatest failing of a Hero was the practice of assumption. It was a shortcoming that Toshinori seldom allowed himself to fall victim to, and that had been a trait that served him well through his Hero career. But tonight he'd allowed himself assumptions. He'd assumed he would be dropping Makoto off to her apartment when they finally, gracefully, made their exit.

As the fundraiser began to wind down — after contributors had been acknowledged and dessert served — he had been good and ready to leave. Merely waiting for Makoto's signal. And, when she finally gave it — touching the back of his hand with two fingers, eyes moving in the direction of the exit — he was damn relieved. He was not prepared for her feet to stall in the hall and gesture toward the elevators.

"I reserved a room for myself," she explained. "I checked in when I went to the bathroom earlier."

And there it was, his assumptions and the resulting expectations smashed to pieces. He'd wanted to drive her home, to savor more of her presence, but that wouldn't be happening. He would be leaving alone. Going back to his quarters on the UA campus to put away his good suit and navigate his way through the last hours of the night. Alone.

"Let me walk you to the elevators then," Toshinori offered, and the corner of her lips twitched as she bottled up her smile.

More assumptions. Assuming nothing could go wrong. Assuming this would be an easy goodnight. He'd leave her at the elevator doors and take himself back out to the valet for his car.

He stood beside Makoto while she waited, hotel key in hand, for the elevators to return to the floor, when audacious laughter went up his spine like nails scraping across a board. He glanced over his shoulder, only to see Skyline approaching with an arm around Takeyama's waist. She was leaning into him, head canted back and big eyes wide and flirtatious.

Toshinori immediately registered the circumstances, before Skyline even spotted them and opened his mouth.

"You have a room, too? Guess we are all going up together," Skyline said lightheartedly.

Takeyama looked at he and Makoto then — really looked — and her eyes seemed to widen before Skyline dropped his mouth to her ear, and Toshinori saw him curl his tongue around her lobe. The elevator doors opened in front of them.

He could've made an excuse — that he forgot something, or needed to check on something. But if he left now, Makoto would be in the elevator with Skyline and that idea made Toshinori uneasy. His conscience's demands of good citizenship wouldn't let him do it.

He laid his palm on Makoto's back and followed her in, with Skyline and Takeyama close behind. Makoto slid into the corner of the elevator and he took up residence beside her, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall.

"Which floor?" Skyline asked.

"Four," Makoto said.

"Great. Same as me."

Skyline didn't bother with subtly as he let his hand slide down Takeyama's back, then lower, and she tilted her head back to smile at him. Toshinori directed his eyes elsewhere — at Makoto. She had her hotel key between her fingers and had her clutch pressed into her stomach, gaze averted. He hadn't forgotten that Skyline's consistent adultery and resulting press coverage was what drove her to quit.

The doors couldn't open fast enough.

Makoto lithely slipped past them onto the landing, and Toshinori followed her out only a half step behind. Skyline and Takeyama were barely out of the elevator as Makoto looked back over her shoulder and gave a dismissive wave goodbye to them. Toshinori couldn't hear what Skyline said in return over Makoto mumbling under her breath in pointed annoyance.

"He never learns, he just never learns," she said, and the tension and frustration in her words was clear.

She slid the hotel key, and the light turned green. Makoto all but slammed the door open ahead of her, and Toshinori followed her in as she flicked on a single end table lamp.

The hotel suite was plush clean; the pale, lingering scent of bleach was in the air — his favorite reassurance in hotels. A flower bouquet sat on a table in the center of the room with a bottle of wine. Through the arch of a doorway, he could see the bedroom illuminated by a bedside lamp.

"I'm sorry," Toshinori said. "And also not."

"Not?" she repeated, glancing back over her shoulder at him with lips pursed as she set down her clutch and took out her earrings, then bent to lay them on the table.

Christ, he wished he could have a picture of her in that moment. With the curtains open behind her, the landscape of her silhouette was outlined. Every valley and slope of her body — the line of her jaw, the curve of her breasts, the rise of her hips. Long, long legs. Shadows pooled in the ravines as he saw her face-on. Contrast. Brilliant, dark contrast. She straightened her back.

"I don't think I'd have been able to poach you away in my current circumstances if he lacked that…glaring character flaw."

He saw her features soften. Her fingers curled and she laughed, dropping her head.

"I promise you could have."

The words struck him, and Toshinori suddenly realized the ground he was on. Alone with her here in this private place. She watched him purposefully as she stepped out of her high heels. He should leave. She was his employee, there was no kind way to say that and not sound bad. Already they'd crossed boundaries they shouldn't have. Fearless. Intrepid. That was who she was to the marrow and staying here a moment longer invited her to be just that.

He remembered the soft sound of her panting, and he closed his eyes.

Indulge.

It was the echo that had coaxed him in his office to throw caution to the wayside for her. He wasn't a Hero anymore — he didn't need to keep up those walls he'd used to isolate himself, for the safety of others.

It didn't matter if he wasn't a Hero. She worked for him, and it was inappropriate, his conscience warred. And she was the sister of his closest friend. How many lines of trust was he seeking to violate?

Indulge.

What are you thinking about?" she asked, her head tilting back to look up at him, fingers plucking the gold comb from her hair.

"Villains rights."

"You really need to stop bullshitting me," Makoto said, stepping into his space. Her fingertips tip-toed up his tie. Toshinori stood his ground.

"I should go."

But his feet didn't get the message. They stayed right where they were, planted in the center of her hotel room, letting him watch as her nimble fingers plucked at his tie casually.

"I don't want you to go," Makoto countered.

"We can't do this."

"We most definitely can."

He should stop her. The knot of his tie came loose under her touch, and Makoto slid it from around his neck. Her eyes were locked with his as she defiantly dropped it to the floor. Fire in her gaze as she threw down the gauntlet. He wanted to put his hands in her hips, but he resisted.

"Makoto."

"Toshinori." He inhaled, but she didn't let him have an edge. She asked, fingers playing with the button at his throat, "What are you so afraid of?"

"Everything."

The confessional came out as a whisper. She paused, lips parting to counter, when what he'd said sunk in.

The press. Her brother. Villains. Vulnerability. Attachment. A gap in his armor.

"Toshinori—"

"I can't do this," he said, the words hard to get past his lips. His chest felt tight. "I can't fuck you and be casual about it."

"Good. I don't want casual."