It was the next morning. Keira was in the kitchen making breakfast, Daxter was sitting at the kitchen bar and Jak sat despondently on the couch. His arms were now firmly wrapped in bandages. After last night's event they'd all gone back to bed. Kiera had stayed the night. She'd called her dad and told him that she was going to. She expected him to tell her no, that he didn't want her sleeping over with the boys, implying they might get up to something, but he didn't. Maybe it was her shaky voice when she called him, or the visible distress in her tone that she failed to mask. Whatever it was, he simply said yes and told her to take care of herself. So she had slept over, sleeping on the couch, although "sleeping" was a generous word. She had laid there for most of the night, slipping between bouts of worry and anger, and restless spurts of unconsciousness. And after Jak had come running out of his room in the middle of the night, clawing at himself, any wishful hopes of getting a modicum of rest were quashed. If she was having a hard time sleeping, there was no telling what sort of nightmare Jak was going through.

Her eyes were red and puffy from the combination of lack of sleep and crying. Looking around the room, all three faces sported this same look. Keira pushed the eggs around on the burner absently, watching the runny clear whites change to white and solidify. She was suddenly struck with the visual of semen drying on tanned skin. She scooped the cooked eggs onto a plate and placed them in front of Daxter.

"You're not having any?" Daxter asked.

"I lost my appetite." she said.

She turned and looked at Jak.

"How about you, Jak? Do you want anything?"

Jak shook his head quietly.

"Are you sure? How about one of my world famous hot chocolates?" Kiera said.

The tiniest hint of a smile crossed his lips. They weren't exactly world famous, but she would add a teaspoon of vanilla, and grate chocolate on top with whip cream. She was glad the little inside joke managed to cheer him up even a little.

"Sure." Jak murmured.

Jak laid back on the couch, the tv was on but he wasn't really paying attention. His brain was transported back to an especially cold day in sandover. They had about an inch of snow, which was extremely uncommon for the island. The three of them had run outside not bothering to put on their coats and had a snowball fight. Jak could remember the icy burn of it on his skin as a good shot from Kiera hit him on the back of the neck, Or how it numbed his fingers as he balled it up for a retaliating strike. They had come inside afterwards, faces red from the cold and clothes soaked down to their underwear. They had changed and sat by the fire to warm up. Kiera had fixed them all hot chocolate, it was then that she proclaimed its world infamy. To which Daxter remarked that that was impossible, since this was the first time she'd made it.

"Soon to be world famous" She elaborated.

The two of them went on, joking about how they would start a hot chocolate empire. Daxter being the money man, Kiera being the creator, and Jak being the muscle.

"The muscle?" Kiera asked.

"Yeah! People will be scrambling over each other for just a taste. Jak'll be our bouncer, kicking out the riff raff."

"Then he'd have to kick you out!" Kiera laughed.

Jak remembered laughing so hard the hot chocolate came out of his nose.

Remembering those good times, made the present feel not so awful. Sitting on the couch he found he could almost forget where he was and what was happening. Jak let himself get lost in his memories.

Razer passed by the young blonde secretary on his way in. He could tell she had a crush on him, but she wasn't his type. She just didn't need to know that. Not one to waste an opportunity, he gave her a wink, as he passed by her desk. That was all it took to get a giggle and a flushed face. Shacking up with her would be all too easy, Razer mused, as he stepped onto the elevator. All he had to do was spark up a conversation, pretend to listen to whatever inane shit she had to say (a messy break-up, a troubled family life, a dead dog) Then he would feign sympathy, tell her how strong she was, how she didn't deserve to be treated like that, how loss could be really hard, and then she'd be putty in his hands. He would take her back to his place, continue to listen to her bullshit, before gently touching her, fake geniality, letting her feel like she could stop at any time, like she was the one who was in control, even though she never was, then fuck her, have a single night of passion, then dump her. Tell her it's not her, it's him, he just isn't ready for a committed relationship, but he hoped they could still be friends, and then ghost her. It would be easy, too easy, he'd done it dozens of times before, but now he had something new.

Razer hadn't stopped thinking about his night with Jak since it'd happened. None of that false cordiality, no wooing, no small talk. Just raw fucking. He didn't have to pretend to care, to be gentle. He could do whatever he wanted to that tan chiseled body. Grab a fistful of that beautiful ass, feel as he twitched and shuddered beneath him. And the noises! So primal and unfettered. He could take what he wanted, how he wanted, when he wanted. His mouth watered, he was hungry for more, for his next hit, like a drug addict.

As the elevator dinged, Razer took a deep breath, smoothed back his hair, and adjusted his pants so his hard-on wasn't so noticeable. He had let himself get a little carried away, he was at work after all. He needed to stay professional.

Razer found Mizo, sitting at his desk mulling over some papers. He was out of his G.T. Blitz disguise, since he knew it was just Razer coming to see him.

"You wanted to see me." Razer said.

"I need you to kill Jak." Mizo stated.

Razer couldn't hide how surprised and annoyed he looked.

"Why?! He won't be winning any championships, I can assure you that." Razer spat.

"Can you?!" Mizo retaliated, standing up.

"He raced today, who's to say he won't continue? How can you guarantee he won't go on to win?"

Razer licked his lips nervously, he couldn't let Mizo destroy his new toy, not when he wasn't nearly done with him yet. Razer wracked his brain for something to hold him off. Suddenly he was struck with an idea. Razer smiled.

"He won't race, not if the truth got out about his situation."

Mizo sat, folding his hands over each other in thought.

"Well, now. That might just work, and who knows, he may even off himself for me."

Mizo reached for his phone and dialed.

"Get me the number of the biggest tabloids."