He gazes at Asmodean, so handsome in his blue and bronze, the embroidered collar high around his neck, the jacket cut to show off his slim hips. He looks so good it makes Sagramore feel helpless, overwhelmed by the intensity of his own feelings -- last year, after all, marked one of Asmodean's first times attempting to mingle with the general population of the mansion after his long self-imposed exile. This year, he fits in easily. He belongs.

Every time Sagramore feels the memory of his absolute failure (of conscience, of courage, of making change) with Luo Binghe is creeping up the back of his throat like bile, intending to flood him with despair and self-loathing, he remembers this. Be the something more for him, Nina had said. When Asmodean looks back at him, Sagramore really does believe he's done something that matters.

He holds his hand out. "Come outside with me for a moment. It's gotten too warm in here."