Author's Note: Thank you, Sakurazuka-chan, for your bazillions of awesome reviews!

Habit; 8

He smells of soap and cigarettes when he greets me. With a wan smile, he steps left and lets me into the apartment silently. Beautiful as the fairest, rarest doll with jewels for eyes, he's perfect.

He is mine, and mine alone. If he's to break, I'll be the one who shatters him. Satisfied, I reach out, caress his cheek. He flinches… but not quickly enough.

I smirk and he steps back; it's just like we're dancing. I wonder idly whether it's a tango or a waltz. I take hold of his arm, for we're dance partners, and it's proper.