"I mean it," Ripper said. "It's your birthday; we'll do anything you want."

Ethan knew that he was staring at his boyfriend a little blankly, but he really wasn't sure what he was being offered. He'd already been given a damn good birthday morning shagging by Ripper, followed by a substantial breakfast in bed. He'd opened his presents and been sung to, and there was a promise of an evening on the tiles later on. It was already, by far, the best birthday that Ethan had ever had.

What more could Ripper possibly offer? "Been raiding the family account, have we?" Ethan asked.

"If you want to do something expensive, I'll find a way to swing it." Ripper paused. "Do you want to do something expensive?"

Slipping from the bed, Ethan stood up beside Ripper, looking hard into his eyes. "Anything?"

"Anything," Ripper repeated patiently. "It's your choice. Whatever you want to do, that's what we'll do."

Ethan didn't believe it, not for a single second. Ripper was good to him, better than anyone had been before, but there was no way on God's green that he really meant that 'anything'. Smirking, Ethan decided to call him on it. "Then I declare myself the Lord of Misrule. The tables are turned and the roles reversed." He hooked a finger through one of Ripper's belt loops and yanked him forward. "Today, I'm on top."

Ripper smiled, willingly moving into his arms. "All right. Do you want me to call you 'Sir'?"

Ethan really didn't. "That won't be necessary." The idea made him shudder. "Just be for me what I normally am for you." He wondered how far Ripper would let him go with this.

"A constant delicious temptation?" Ripper grinned at him. "I can do that."

Ethan couldn't help but smile at the compliment, and he wriggled happily against Ripper. But still... "Really?" An idea was beginning to dawn. "Are you absolutely sure about that, my dear?"

Ripper's expression turned serious. "I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't." He brushed fingers against Ethan's cheek. "Anything, love."

Ethan stared at him for what felt like a very long time then grabbed Ripper's hand. "You may regret this when you hear me playing your guitar," he sniggered as he pulled his surprisingly obliging boyfriend into their little bathroom.

"You going to play it in the bath?"

Rolling his eyes, Ethan pushed Ripper to the sink and then tugged at his T-shirt. "I need this off so I can wash your face."

Ripper opened his mouth, but closed it again without saying anything as he obediently pulled his shirt over his head. Ethan grinned behind him and admired the view, before leaning round and filling the sink with warm water. Opening the old bread bin that served as their bathroom cabinet, he deliberately took out his most scented soap, the one with the added moisturiser.

"So what you want to do is give me a facial?" Ripper asked, a hint of teasing in his voice, but he didn't look reluctant to go through with it.

"Oh no, Ripper. This is merely preparing the canvas. Be a darling and bend over, would you?"

Ripper complied with a bemused expression, and Ethan used his own special sponge to wet Ripper's face and then massaged the foamy soap carefully into Ripper's skin, making much more of a meal of it than he usually did with himself. There was something oddly erotic about touching Ripper like this. For some reason it seemed more intimate than really it should have.

Ripper closed his eyes and held perfectly still as Ethan worked, quietly letting him do whatever he wanted. Ethan found he was feeling a sense of muted excitement about what was to come, and Ripper's compliant acceptance so far was only increasing the anticipation.

Running his soapy fingers over Ripper's smooth chin, Ethan decided he didn't need to get the shaving things out. Somewhat reluctantly, he used the sponge to rinse the soap away and then carefully patted Ripper dry. "Back to the other room now. Oh, and leave your shirt off."

Opening his eyes, Ripper raised his eyebrow at Ethan, but obediently headed out of the bathroom, leaving his shirt behind. "Now what?"

"Now you sit on the bed. Think you can manage that?" Smirking, Ethan knelt and pulled out what Ripper called his box of tricks from under the bed. This was where he kept his comprehensive collection of begged, stolen or borrowed cosmetics.

Pausing in the act of sitting down, Ripper gave the familiar bag a long stare. "So it's to be a makeover then."

"Yes." Ethan grinned evilly up at the other boy; here came the big test. "And then I put on your leather jacket, and we go out together."

That got him a sharp look, but none of the expected protests. Instead, Ripper gave him a smile. "Going to be my protector, are you?"

That momentarily stopped Ethan in his tracks. "It won't come to that," he decided. "We'll go to safe places." He lifted the old carpetbag onto the bed and seated himself as close as he could in front of Ripper, letting their legs interweave.

Ripper spread his arms wide. "I'm all yours," he said extravagantly, one of his hands coming to rest on Ethan's left thigh.

"Oh no. No, no, no." Ethan lifted the offending hand and put it on Ripper's own leg. "I will not be distracted out of this by your masculine wiles." Ripper did a credible job of imitating Ethan's usual pout, and Ethan realised suddenly why his own pout nine times out of ten ended up with him being kissed. "Yes, practice that expression. I'll need it when I get to your lips."

He opened the bag and rummaged around inside it, drawing out a selection of tubes and pots. Raising his fingers to touch Ripper's face, Ethan decided that more was required to soften and seal the skin before applying the foundation, and so he began to smooth in a little light moisturiser.

Again, the act of moving slick fingers over Ripper's beautiful bone structure was surprisingly sensual, and Ethan got a little lost in it. "I've never done this to anyone else before," he commented dreamily.

"Me neither," Ripper replied with the ghost of a smile. There was a brief pause, then he added softly, "There's no one else I'd let do this."

Smiling, Ethan sat back and rolled up his sleeves. While he waited for the moisturiser to be absorbed, he tried to decide on the colours that would suit Ripper's skin tone and eyes. "I used to steal my aunt's makeup, you know; she was too consistently drunk to ever notice. I'd put a chair in front of my bedroom door so no one could interrupt my fun, and I'd spend hours just playing with my look in front of the mirror... well, my look and other things." He giggled. That was something he would never have admitted to anyone else.

"How old were you?" Ripper asked curiously.

Ethan shrugged. "Young. Just a nipper. Hold still now." He began to dab dots of stick concealer about Ripper's face.

"Always knew you were precocious."

"That's one word for it," Ethan said dryly, blending in the concealer with a fingertip. "People at the time had a wide variety of other words. I suppose you were everybody's favourite paragon."

Ripper gave a one-shouldered shrug, being careful to continue to hold his head still. "I spent a lot of time doing what was expected."

"When did that stop? I don't mean when you decided to leave; I know when that was. And why." Ethan smirked fondly at Ripper. "But when did you start... exploring your options?"

"I don't know if I can pinpoint one specific moment," Ripper replied after a moment's thought. "It was more of a continuum. Gradually getting more dissatisfied and finding more and more courage to break the rules."

It was time for foundation. Ripper needed a lighter one than Ethan, but that wasn't a problem as Ethan had a range of colours from shoplifting expeditions that had turned into grab anything and run affairs, as they so often did. He squeezed a small amount onto his fingers and started to apply it, rubbing in small circles. "What does this feel like?" he asked curiously. "Does it feel like breaking the rules?"

"It feels..." Ripper hesitated as if looking for the right word. "Naughty."

"Mmm, naughty," Ethan purred. "You should watch." He dug out a hand mirror and gave it to Ripper so that he could see his now even and uniform skin tone.

Ripper looked at his reflection for a moment. "Can see a difference already."

"Just be grateful I'm not plucking your brows. Close your eyes."

Raising one of the aforementioned eyebrows, Ripper obeyed.

Ethan quickly applied a neutral base colour and then, using brushes, he began work at creating fabulous eyes. Or as fabulous as was possible while maintaining the natural brow, anyway. It felt different doing this to someone else instead of to himself in a mirror, but he was getting used to it. "I had lessons in stage makeup once," he threw into the conversation. "From this wonderful old queen down at the Half Moon. We had a deal going."

"Do I even want to ask what the deal was?"

"I imagine not."

"If it's anything like what I suspect it is, there better not be any more of those types of deals. I don't share."

Ethan frowned and paused in his work. "Ripper, since there's been you, well... I'm as possessive of your property as you are." He sighed and added quietly, "It didn't matter what I did with my body before it became yours. It matters now. No one else gets to touch your things."

Ripper's eyes flicked open to look at him. "You're more than just one of my things." He smiled slightly. "Still don't want anyone to touch you though."

Ethan tutted. "Close your eyes."

Smiling, Ripper obeyed.

As the work on Ripper's eyes progressed, in hues of green and gold, Ethan found that he was beginning to feel a little strange. Every time he moved back to take stock of his masterpiece-in-progress, he was hit by the fact that this increasingly beautiful creature in front of him was actually his Ripper, and that was... as arousing as Chaos.

"Open your eyes wide now, dearheart, and don't, whatever you do, blink."

Obeying, Ripper asked, "Do I get to see what you've been doing?"

"In a jiffy, my dear." Ethan's tone was distracted as he very carefully applied eyeliner and then mascara. Ripper did blink, of course, and many times, but between them they got the job done. "You can look now, but there's still a lot to do, and oh..." Sitting back, Ethan was somewhat overwhelmed by the sight of Ripper. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed as his trousers started to feel tight. "Bugger..."

Eyes that he knew as well as his own, but that now, lined in kohl, seemed full of mysteries, looked him over. Ripper smiled. "Look that good, do I?" Ethan didn't answer; he was too busy staring. Ripper leaned forward until his mouth was hovering a breath away from Ethan's. "Aren't you going to finish your masterpiece?" he whispered.

Ethan whimpered. He closed his eyes, which definitely helped temporarily. "You seem to have forgotten who's in charge."

"I haven't forgotten." Ethan felt Ripper move back and could hear the pout in his voice when he added, "But you're not going to leave me half-finished, are you?"

"If you want to be 'finished', you need to stop trying to seduce me for at least another ten minutes." Ethan sounded petulant to his own ears.

Thinking he'd calmed down enough, he opened his eyes, only to find his cock hardening further when he looked again at Ripper. Groaning, he grabbed his blusher and shimmering highlighter together with the appropriate brushes and set to work defining that wonderful bone structure.

He moved closer, getting up onto his knees, and used the brushes as if they were somehow sex toys, making every flick or stroke into a caress.

Ripper made a deep rumble in the back of his throat, like the purr of one of the great cats. "I'm not the one doing the seducing, love."

"Then why am I the one feeling breathless?" Ethan asked, and he rubbed his erection into Ripper's chest, to make his point clear, and indeed, felt.

"All I'm doing is sitting here nice and still while you paint my face," Ripper pointed out reasonably.

"Stop it," Ethan muttered. "Or I'll never get this finished." He turned away and started rummaging through his stuff with trembling hands. Ripper fell totally silent, obviously doing his best to obey and be unobtrusive.

Having found what he was looking for, Ethan stuck a line of gold sequins following each side of Ripper's brow, along the upper temples, and then brushed matching glitter along his cheekbone. Ethan didn't dare pull back and look at his work, he just let the brushes in his hands drop and turned back to the case.

"Just the lips now..." he whispered.

"Should I pout?" Ripper asked in a soft voice.

"Look at yourself before I start," Ethan instructed, not doing so himself. "Tell me what you think, how it makes you feel." He saw Ripper reach for the mirror and waited for his reaction.

There was silence for a long moment, and when Ethan finally looked up, he found Ripper staring big-eyed at himself in the mirror.

"Oh God. You're as entranced as I am." Ethan found he was rubbing his wrist and forearm against his needy erection and forced himself to stop. "Ripper, talk to me?"

"I didn't think..." Ripper murmured, still staring at his own reflection. His gaze flickered over to meet Ethan's. "I thought I'd look ridiculous made up."

"Silly thing to think," Ethan mumbled. He patted at Ripper's knees, trying to get him to straighten his legs out. "You're beautiful, and I'm an artist. Why would you look anything but... painfully irresistible?"

"You're the beautiful one," Ripper countered. "With or without enhancement."

"How can you look at yourself and claim you're not beautiful?" Ethan demanded. As Ripper had obligingly straightened his legs, Ethan straddled them. He just sat there, lipstick in one hand, lip liner and brush in the other, staring at his lover. "Oh God... Oh God, this hurts."

Ripper's expression immediately became concerned, and he reached out to touch Ethan's cheek. "Ethan?"

He gave a nervous little laugh and took hold of Ripper's hand, pulling it down, then pressing it to the front of his trousers. "This hurts."

Ripper's eyes widened in realisation, the expression exaggerated by the makeup, then he grinned slyly. "I'm sure I can figure out some way to help alleviate that... pain," he said, his fingers massaging Ethan's length through the material.

Ethan gasped, then panted, then groaned. "Hell... Oh God." His head was tipped back and his hips thrust forward. "Need... need to finish..."

"Should I stop?"

"Yes... no.... um... Let me just do your lips."

Still wearing that sly smile, Ripper pulled his hand away. Ethan tried to concentrate on Ripper's lips and only his lips. It didn't help much; he felt like he was falling into them. Groaning, he began to outline with the pencil.

"Stop smiling. I need... I need a neutral ex... expression."

Ripper complied, although Ethan could feel the effort it was taking to keep his expression blank. It took twice as long as it should have done to complete the outline as Ethan's hands were shaking, but finally the pencil dropped to the bed amongst the rest of the clutter.

Then he opened the lipstick. He'd chosen a warm shade the colour of old paprika. This particular lipstick was high gloss, which wasn't completely right for the look he was going for with Ripper, but Ethan couldn't resist the opportunity to see Ripper's lips slick and gleaming. As he painted it slowly on, he started to whimper again.

Ripper held perfectly still as if sensing that anything more would break the moment.

Finally, the lips were done and the stick and brush fell to the bed unnoticed as Ethan leant forward. His mouth got close enough to Ripper's shiny lips that he could feel Ripper's breath...

But then he drew back and clambered off Ripper and the bed, almost running to the box of gear at the far end of the room.

"Ethan, what are you–"

"The camera. Where's the blasted Polaroid thing that we nicked gone?" Ethan was throwing stuff across the floor without care as he searched.

Ripper got up and came over, leaning close enough that Ethan could feel the heat of his body as Ripper reached for a box on a higher shelf. "It's in here."

Completely unable to stop himself, Ethan dropped to his knees, grasped Ripper's hips, and pressed his face into the front of the denim jeans, groaning. He heard Ripper's swift intake of breath and could feel his erection, rock hard and needy beneath his mouth, under the material.

Within seconds, Ethan had them unbuttoned, and he was taking out Ripper's cock, moaning as he kissed and licked its head... but then he was up on his feet again and dragging Ripper by his hand back to the bed, the camera dangling by its lead from Ripper's hand. "Naked. Get naked... Going to paint all of you..."

Ripper groaned at the suggestion, but was already pushing his jeans down his legs and kicking them aside. Ethan also stripped as his clothing was unbearably hot and uncomfortable. He pushed all the makeup to one side on the bed and tugged at Ripper to get him to lie down flat.

Ripper allowed himself to be pushed down on his back, his gaze never leaving Ethan. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

"Thinking?" Ethan asked, as he straddled the other boy, trapping Ripper's cock beneath his arse. "You think I have thoughts?" Ethan grabbed a pot of eyeshadow at random and began to draw with it, using his fingertip, over Ripper's chest. All the while, he rocked with his hips.

"Feelings then. And intent." Ripper put his hands above his head, arching up a bit into Ethan's touch.

Ethan looked up at Ripper helplessly. When he spoke, he was breathless and panting. "Er... that I've never been so bloody turned on in all my life? That I don't know what I'm doing? I want to do twenty things at once. I want you inside me while I do this. I want to smear that lipstick halfway across your face. I want to put rouge on your nipples. I want... I want..."

"Anything." Ripper lowered his arms, grasping Ethan's hips and lifting him, shifting until his cock was pressed against Ethan's entrance, still well lubricated from their earlier athleticism. "Everything," Ripper said, voice tight as he slowly pushed inside. "Do it all."

***

"No, sweet thing," Ethan said, more or less patiently. "Knights can't move any way you want them to; it just looks that way. They have to move in an 'L' shape. Like this, or this." He demonstrated to Kat again with one of his own knights then put it back where it had been.

It had been Rupert's idea to try to encourage Kat's slightly deficient strategic ability by teaching her how to play chess; it gave Ethan something Watcherly he could do in his current state of infirmity. Not that he was that bad yet. Just bad enough. But really, wasn't it enough that he was too weak to go out with Rupert today, without having to play a game he found stultifyingly boring with a Slayer who didn't want to play it?

"Guess you won't buy it's a knight with delusions of grandeur?" Kat asked with a half-hopeful expression. "A Slayer knight?"

"If it was up to me, dear, it could be anything you want it to be. But Rupert wants you to learn the rules. Why he thought I'd be the right person to teach you rules, I'm not sure." He could hear the petulance in his own voice, made worse by the breathlessness he could no longer completely hide. "Look, I'll make you a deal. Learn the bloody things; then we can stop playing. We'll pretend we've had many enjoyable games all afternoon when Rupert and Megan come back, and I'll teach you something fun instead."

"Cool. Then we can stop." Kat sat back in her seat, pushing her multicoloured fringe from her eyes. "I know the rules. I just..." She shrugged. "I'm not good at them."

Ethan considered pretending he believed her and then decided that it didn't matter. "Don't worry, I'll lay any failure to know them at my door. I've never been very good at rules either."

"Thanks," Kat told him. As if to make sure he didn't change his mind, she started gathering the pieces up, putting them back in the case. "That's not exactly true, you know."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why ever would you say that?"

"Observation. You follow the rules – when you believe in them."

"Ah. Well, yes. Belief is something relatively new in my life." He stared a little glumly out of the French windows. The weather had taken a turn for the autumnal, and the wisteria twigs were being blown against the glass. "For most of my life, I denied myself faith in anything or anyone." Which wasn't precisely true; in fact, it wasn't true at all, but Ethan found he really didn't want to discuss the tenets of Chaos with Kat.

"That's gotta be a really sucky way to live." Kat's voice was sympathetic even if her words were blunt.

He smiled at her, acknowledging the accuracy of her remark. "Things are a lot better now. Learn from my mistakes, Kat. If nothing else, I can teach you what not to do."

"But you're happy now, right? Being responsible and doing your duty?"

He grimaced and shuddered. "Oh sweetheart, do find some other way of phrasing that."

She grinned. "Sorry. What should I call it?"

Ethan suddenly had an almost overwhelming urge for a cigarette, which was interesting considering he hadn't smoked for years, and his lungs were currently a little strained even sitting still. He looked at the Slayer and rubbed his face. "Rupert's the one with the sacred agenda; I'm just with him for the ride. But yes, I'm happy to, um, be in his sidecar." He grinned at her, although as she had no idea what he was remembering with that comment, he doubted she could really share his humour in it.

Kat tilted her head as she returned his grin. "Y'know, it's really amazing how almost everything you say about Giles sounds dirty."

Ethan burst out laughing. "Catch me drunk and unwise one night, and I might tell you some stories... Oh, perhaps I shouldn't encourage you in that." He paused and thought back over what the girl had said, and maybe hadn't said. "Is everything all right with you, Kat?"

"Sure," Kat answered too quickly. "Of course! Why wouldn't it be?"

His suspicions now roused, Ethan narrowed his eyes at her. "What aren't you telling your pseudo-Watcher here?"

Kat looked away. "It's nothing. Just..."

"Katherine?" He reached forward to touch her hand, which was resting on the card table between them. "Tell me what's wrong? I might not take teaching you chess particularly seriously, but I'm certainly concerned if something is amiss."

She was silent for a long moment, long enough that Ethan thought she wasn't going to speak. But finally, in a barely audible voice, she said, "I don't know if I can do this."

"Ah," Ethan said, instantly understanding what 'this' was. He squeezed her hand gently. "Hence the question about duty and responsibility?" Kat nodded mutely, and he took a deep breath, wondering what Rupert would do in a situation like this. Ethan could only guess the correct approach using his instincts, and not the knowledge and training of more official Watchers.

Releasing the breath, he gave it his best shot. "It's okay not to want the Slayer's life, Kat; you mustn't worry that we'll be angry with you. All we'll want to ensure is that you've really thought through your decision, and that it's not based on something we could make better for you if we knew about it. Can you tell me what's making you... uneasy?"

"Mostly... it's what happened to Megan." She glanced at him as if to see his reaction.

He tried very hard not to flinch, but wasn't sure he'd managed it. "Yes. That was stressful for us all. Are you worried something similar might happen again? Perhaps to you?"

"No," she said immediately. Then a second later, "Yes. But not for me. I'm worried that it'll happen to someone else because I'm not good enough."

"Oh God," Ethan said, and clasped his hands to his face, rubbing hard. Then he turned to her again and said apologetically, "I'm really not the right person to be talking with you about this."

"Oh." Kat sounded uncharacteristically subdued, and she pulled back, shifting her chair away from the table. "I understand. It's okay."

He watched her move away with a sense of alarm, and it forced him to open up further. "No, you really don't understand, dear. I can't give you encouragement, not because I don't want to, but because I feel the same way you do."

"I get it," Kat said sharply, not glancing up at him. "You don't think I'm good enough either. It's fine. Really."

"What on earth...?" he asked, honestly bewildered by her words. Then he suddenly understood how she'd misinterpreted his confession. "Oh, you silly child." He pushed up and out of the armchair, ignoring how weak his muscles were starting to feel, and went to crouch in front of hers, taking her hands into his. "I meant that I feel that I'm not good enough. That I'm going to hurt someone again, like I did Megan."

"You feel..." Kat repeated, staring at him in obvious disbelief. She leaned forward, squeezing his hands. "But you're the best, Ethan. You and Giles, you saved Megan. I... I just stood there."

Ethan looked at her in equal disbelief. "Kat, I almost killed Megan. If Rupert hadn't been there to undo my damage, she'd be dead, and it would be my fault."

"Maybe, but she'd be dead if you hadn't been there too. You killed the... whatever it was. And Giles didn't know the spell, you did. You did something at least. I froze."

His 'something' had been mainly having an impromptu breakdown if he remembered rightly, but he should be concentrating on Kat's self-doubt, not his own. "Kat, do you really imagine that anyone deals well with that kind of situation when they first meet it? Rupert and I have years of field experience." Albeit mostly from different sides of the fence. "The first time we found ourselves facing the death of a friend, I can assure you that we did not cope at all well."

"But what if it happens again?" she asked, watching him with troubled eyes. "What if the next time someone's in trouble I freeze again?"

He stood as it was either that or topple over. "You won't, or if you do it will be for less time. You're a Slayer, Kat. That comes with a whole caboodle of instincts as I understand it. You never had a chance to act when Megan was hurt. I saw you run to save her, but I blasted the bastard before you could reach it. That's not freezing; that's not being as quick as dangerous Chaos magic, which could have made the situation a great deal worse had I got a single syllable of the incantation wrong."

"I don't feel like I have a whole caboodle of instincts," Kat admitted, but she sounded less distressed than she had.

He sat back down in his chair, but kept hold of one of her hands. "Perhaps we can schedule in some training that concentrates on getting you more in touch with those instincts." Maybe Rupert could guide her on one of those spiritquest things he was so fond of. "But sweetheart, if in the end you decide to go home, that's fine. Really, it is. Just make sure you stay in touch. I'm turning into a sentimental old man, and I don't want to lose contact with you."

That got him one of Kat's irrepressible smiles. "Don't worry. You're not getting rid of me that easy. Even if I do go home."

"That's my good girl," he replied with a fond smirk.

Kat grinned back then gradually became more serious again. "Ethan, can I ask you something?"

"Always."

"Is this..." She gestured at him, then stopped and started again. "You're not... punishing yourself, are you?"

He understood. "No dear, although I see how it could look that way. But this is just the rather prolonged equivalent of sweating out a fever. Do try not to let it bother you."

"I don't think I'm capable of that."

He grimaced. "It's going to get considerably worse before it gets better. You should prepare yourself." He could feel the Chaos still inside him, inside every bloody cell it seemed. It was stubborn and entrenched, and he knew he was facing a long and very debilitating cleansing. "Try to remember that I'm going through this for good reasons – so that I can be with Rupert, and with you and Megan, and so that I hopefully won't hurt anyone again."

"That's what you tell yourself?" Kat asked. "That you're doing this for good reasons?"

"I suppose so. What else should I tell myself?"

"And it's enough?"

He nodded. "Rupert alone would be enough. Easily so."

Kat was quiet for a moment. "Are you– Do you get scared?"

"The things I'm scared of –petrified of– are the things that will happen if I don't go through with this." He squeezed her hand tightly. "Kat, I'm resigned to my fate here. What is it about my illness that's bothering you so much?"

She wouldn't meet his eyes and the words, when they came, were barely audible. "My brother... got sick. He never got better."

Oh dear God. Why him? Ethan didn't have the... whatever it was that was needed for dealing with things like this. He looked at her somewhat helplessly. "I'm so very sorry to hear that. I... I promise I will get better."

"Really?" Kat finally met his gaze, looking and sounding even younger than she was. "You promise?"

He knew there were risks involved with letting himself get so ill, but his heart had been sound enough to get him through four years of Initiative torture so the chances were that it would survive this too. It was best to appear confident for Kat's sake anyway. At least, he hoped it was. "I promise. In a few weeks I'll be right as rain." He winked at her. "Rain, get it?"

She giggled, although the sound was a little watery. Surprising Ethan, Kat got out of her chair to hug him. He patted her back softly and smoothed the wildly coloured hair from her face. He recognised the hairstyle for what it was, the equivalent of the glitter he'd once used himself to deflect the world's attention from the real Ethan, but that didn't stop him appreciating the girl's style. And that gave him an idea...

"I believe I said I'd teach you something more enjoyable than chess. How would you care to learn some outrageous makeup tricks to go with this wonderful peacock plumage of yours?"