That day, all they were doing was making sure they had their costumes and that they fit. The costumes were quite cheap, all thin and too loose, but they matched what they wore in the Realm. I saw Eric in his costume. Presto's costume actually looked more impressive than what he wore in the Realm.

Hank, however, was having a problem with his costume. He was arguing with one of the people in charge of the production because this person thought it would be fine if he wore a pair of light blue shorts as part of his Ranger's outfit. Hank disagreed. The only other costume piece that suited the set at all were a pair of dark gold pants. They weren't perfect, but Hank preferred them. So did I.

I wasn't any part of this play, but I walked down to where Hank was looking through the costume box. I told Hank that I thought his choice was better, too. He appreciated my opinion. We talked for a while there, and then we headed back up the hill toward the school buildings with my head against his chest and his arm around me as we went. (Sounds awkward, and I'm sure it would be in real life, but as dreams go, it worked.) As we walked, I wondered what Sheila was thinking of seeing Hank so close to a stranger. I knew she either had to have seen for herself or was most likely told by someone.

Hank and I stopped for a drink at a water fountain and talked a little more, all the while becoming closer to each other. Then we kissed. It was a very solid, very passionate kiss. We were interrupted by a friend of his. She looked like a human version of Valerie from Danny Phantom. She told us she was in the counting contest the school was having later that evening. I didn't say anything, but I thought that sounded rather dull and pointless. Hank playfully challenged her right then and there to count as high as she could for us, but she said she had to study and practice. She left.

Later that evening, everyone who had anything to do with the D&D play were to meet in the mansion of the man who was sponsoring it. Each person could bring a guest, so Hank took me since we seemed to be an official couple by then.

We were upstairs, in a room with a large window that looked down into a lavish study. There were plush yellow-gold armchairs, dark wood tables and floor, antique lamps, a beautiful Persian carpet, and walls of filled bookshelves. A distinguished gentleman sat with his legs crossed in one of the armchairs. He had an open book propped on his knee as a standing man in a suit spoke to him. The seated man was undoubtedly the owner of the place. He wore a dark gray suit with a red and black neck scarf. With his salt-and-pepper hair, he appeared to be in his fifties.

I froze upon seeing him, and as if on cue, music started playing in my head. It was an ominous march. I knew this was Venger, or an incarnation of him. But there was something else. Something told me that he was a blood-relation of mine, though I'd never before seen him. I was thinking he was either my father or an uncle. I was confused . . . and immediately obsessed with him.