It's not about sex. It's not about love. It's about the way that Mike had so lovingly dragged a hunting blade down his ribs half a week ago, not even beading up blood, about the pain that was pleasure, vice versa. It was about trust, and how much it meant to Mike Pinocchio, and most importantly, it was about how hard it was for him to give it away.

Hobbes shook his head, very nearly laughing. It was so ridiculous that something so stupid could scare the hell out of him like this.

"See. I told you it was stupid," he muttered, and turned to walk away.