Basilio forgot about the violent man amidst all the other violent people who entered the waiting room. Each new day was another opportunity to be killed if Basilio didn’t focus on his hospitality. By the time the man, Vector, dropped in again, it was three weeks later, right after ShadowBone’s appointment.

ShadowBone’s unique ability allowed them to hold a permanent black mist around them, hiding their entire body. No one knew what ShadowBone looked like—age, gender, ethnicity. Even the distorted, hazy voice gave nothing away. The mist also had the additional effect of setting you on edge; Basilio expected something terrible to happen—a sudden shooting, earthquake, death—and his spine had a wave of shivers every few minutes while ShadowBone went through a magazine and sipped rose tea with a lemon wedge.

ShadowBone themselves was as calm as a cactus in the summer, and Basilio knew better than to overstep and get a face full of needles. On the other hand, ShadowBone very much liked Basilio's peaceful air and, as they exited Boss’ office, went over to Basilio's desk to ruffle Basilio's hair before walking out with a hum.

“Thank you for business…” Basilio said with a slight tremble in his voice.

The door swung shut at ShadowBone’s cape hem but didn’t close entirely. A small hand sprang in to catch it and pushed it open. Cassidy, an older woman with a bright smile, came in her navy blue suit. She grinned, stretching the scar on her chin. “Short day for you, ain't it?”

Basilio blinked at her, brow furrowed. Cassidy was one of the other front desk workers who usually stuck to nights. But it was early. Basilio glanced at the clock, reading minutes before four, way too early. “What do you mean short day?”

Before she could answer, the office door burst open, and Boss strode out with one of his lit cigars. “What’s the holdup?” he said and slowly held out the cigar in the air. Basilio quickly grabbed the ashtray off the desk and rushed over to Boss. “The car’s gonna be here any minute.”

Two taps, and Boss took another puff. Basilio meanwhile tapped on the ashtray, nervous. “What car, Boss?”

“The car that’s coming to pick you up.” He paused for a moment to take in Basilio's confused expression before he let out a laugh. “Did I forget to tell you? Vector rented you out for a couple of hours.”

“What?!”

“Hey, hey, watch it! Just got this carpet cleaned.”

Basilio held the ashtray close to his chest, nails now scraping across the smooth surface and cut off his ability as worry began to set in. “What do you mean rented out? F-for what?”

Oh no, his chest got tighter, and however much he tried to stay calm, he couldn’t take even deep breaths. Images of Vector rushing at him, cold eyes inches from his, swarmed his mind. It took a hard pat on the back from Boss to jolt him out of it.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. It’s not an actual job. See, Vector confessed that he has trouble relaxing sometimes. Massages don’t even work anymore, and it’s making him irritated. And that’s where you come in. All you gotta do is sit in the same room and release your magic incense, let him find some peace for a couple hours, and he’ll bring you right back. Easy money.”

Easy money for Boss. Nothing was ever easy when dealing with villains. One wrong word, one misheard secret meeting, and Basilio would be promptly disposed of. No, Basilio didn’t want to get involved like this; he was a receptionist!

“But Boss, I don’t think I can…”

The laughter faded from Boss’ face, and he pulled Basilio close with an arm around his shoulder. “You can and you will. Vector is an important client, you know how bad it’d look for us to cancel last minute? Are you going to betray the company that helped you when no one else would? Do you know how many other debtors get the same treatment you do? How many have a comfy bed, clock in and out without breaking a sweat?”

Basilio shook his head, eyes on the ground where his heart sank.

“Just you,” Boss said, then he released his hold but kept a strict hand on Basilio's shoulder. “I like you, Basilio. You know I was doing everything for your sister, but nothing ever comes for free. Now, you’re gonna go with Vector, help him relax, and make sure he’s happy, understood?”

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Basilio nodded and bit back his worries. There was no point in going against Boss. Basilio's life was in Boss’ hands until the debt was paid off. Others had it worse. Rethinking the job again, Basilio figured it shouldn’t be difficult at all. All Vector wanted was Basilio's ability, like a literal incense stick.

Despite the efforts to convince himself that this really was easy money, it all flew out the window the moment the main door opened, and the man himself strode in. Vector had a more casual look with his black button-up that exposed his collarbone and fitted white pants. The kind of guy Basilio would buy a drink for at a bar and ask about his multiple bracelets as an excuse to touch that beautiful, slim hand. Too bad this man was a villain.

“Am I too early?” Vector asked in a low, smooth voice. Although the question was directed at Boss, Vector’s eyes trailed over to Basilio, and he gave him a quick once-over before going back to Boss.

With a gulp, Basilio made himself small as Boss greeted Vector with zeal. Basilio knew better than to be taken in by looks. Who knew what horrific things this man’s done and will continue to do? To Basilio, if he wasn’t careful.

With his gaze lowered, Basilio followed the cues, approaching when the conversation ended and sticking to Vector’s heels when it was time to leave. Their steps clanked on the tile in the otherwise silent hallway that led to the private elevator. Vector, being in the lead, pushed the button, and the two stood there to wait. After a second, Vector chuckled. “Ashtray included?”

Basilio peered down at his hands, which held the tray in a death grip. He’d forgotten to put it back. With no place to leave it nor a trashcan to dump out the contents, there was no choice but to continue holding it. “Yes,” was all that Basilio could get out.

With a chime, the doors slid open, and this time, Basilio took the initiative and entered first to push the button to the lobby. Vector followed, pulling out his phone to scroll through it. “What kind of music do you like?” Vector asked as they descended.

Not expecting such a question, Basilio had to take a moment to think. “I listen to everything.”

“That’s the worst answer you can give.” Vector tapped the screen while he reworded his question. “Give me an artist's name.”

“Uhh…Calavera.”

“Calavera, huh? Went up against her once; should just stick to music.”

“Uh-huh…”

Going down twenty floors never felt this long. How Basilio would survive a couple of hours with this man was a mystery. Fortunately, Vector didn’t say anything more as they finally exited the elevator, and the hotel lobby was perfect in its facade. Basilio's never stayed in any of the rooms, but if the luxurious lobby was anything to go by, the rooms were no joke. Important people, from politicians, the wealthy, and the villainous, stayed here, and whatever deals went on in these walls would stay there. Not that Basilio cared to know anymore.

They left through a side door where Vector’s car and driver waited. Before Basilio climbed in, Vector stopped him and held his hand out. “I’m sure you understand the procedure.”

Basilio picked up the earbuds and looked at the black sack the driver held open for him. He sighed. What did Basilio expect? Blind and deafened by Calavera’s guttural screaming to the electric guitar, Basilio could do little else but sit still in the car. The seats were at least comfortable, with lots of legroom. Basilio hardly felt the car move as it pulled off the curb and took them to who knew where.

A few minutes into the ride, Basilio caught the growing scent of smoke. Cigarette smoke that grew stronger quickly. Basilio disliked the smell, but he breathed it in the same way. He bit his lip and turned the ashtray once in his hand before he slowly lifted it up to where he imagined Vector sat beside him. He brought the ashtray with him, after all. He hadn’t considered how long he’d hold it up for. If he pulled away too soon and the ashes dropped onto Vector’s very expensive seats…

The car ride couldn’t be that long, Basilio told himself. He started this, so he was set on seeing it through. Just as his arms started to ache, something touched his wrist, and Basilio nearly dropped the tray. Long fingers wrapped around him lightly, leading his hands back down to his lap.

Ah, so Vector wasn’t sadistically cruel.

Eventually, the car stopped, and something tapped Basilio's shoulder close to the door. Basilio climbed out of the car with some trouble, but he didn’t dare touch the bag on his head. A hand steered him by the shoulder through the darkness. A turn here, another one there, and then they were in an elevator. Only then did the bag come off.

Basilio blinked in the dim light and quickly located Vector at his side, now joined by two larger bodies that Basilio assumed to be bodyguards. Vector pointed at his own ears as a sign for Basilio to remove his earbuds, which Basilio did and handed back.

“Sorry for the trouble,” Vector said with a smile that didn’t look apologetic at all. “Can’t have my safe heaven exposed.”

“I understand,” Basilio said.

“I know.” With a pleased chuckle, Vector asked, “Has your ability been off?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ll let you know when to turn it on.”

Right. Because he was just an incense stick to light up. And an ashtray, apparently, since Vector held out his cigarette as he looked through his phone, and Basilio obediently met it with the tray for Vector to put out. Basilio wrinkled his nose at the butt with its last whiffs of smoke. This is just a job, he reminded himself. Do it well, and it’ll be over before he knows it.

Steeling himself Basilio straightened up and looked forward as the door pinged open. No matter what lay on the other side Basilio would meet it head on.