They were around the campus now, taking a screeching right off Mass Ave onto a tree-lined street of homely two-storey brick houses. Tjan pulled up in front of one and popped the sun-roof. The cold air that rushed in was as crisp as an apple, unlike any breath of air to be had in Florida, where there was always a mushiness, a feeling of air that had been filtered through the moist lungs of Florida's teeming fauna. Perry climbed out of the little Russian sports-car and twisted his back and raised his arms over his head until his spine gave and popped and crackled. Tjan followed, and then he shut down the car with a remote that made it go through an impressive and stylish series of clicks, clunks and chirps before settling down over its wheels, dropping the chassis to a muffler-scraping centimeter off the ground. "Come on," he said. "I'll show you your room." Tjan's porch sagged, with a couple kids' bikes triple-locked to it and an all-covering chalk mosaic over every inch of it. The wood creaked and gave beneath their feet. The door sprang open and revealed a pretty little girl, nine or ten years old, in blue-jeans and a hoodie sweater that went nearly to her ankles, the long sleeves bunched up like beach-balls on her forearms. The hood hung down to her butt -- it was East Coast bangbanger, as reinterpreted through the malls. "Daddy!" she said, and put her arms around Tjan's waist, squeezing hard. He pried her loose and then hoisted her by the armpits up to eye-height. "What have you done to your brother?" "Nothing he didn't deserve," she said, with a smile that showed dimples and made her little nose wrinkle. Tjan looked over at Perry. "This is my daughter, Lyenitchka, who is about to be locked in the coal cellar until she learns to stop torturing her younger brother. Lyenitchka, this is Perry Gibbons, upon whom you have already made an irreparably bad first impression." He shook her gently Perrywards. "Hello, Perry," she said, giggling, holding out one hand. She had a faint accent, which made her sound like a tiny, skinny Bond villainess. He shook gravely. "Nice to meet you," he said. "You got your kids," Perry said, once she was gone. "For the school year. Me and the ex, we had a heart-to-heart about the Russian education system and ended up here: I get the kids from September to June, but not Christmases or Easter holidays. She gets them the rest of the time, and takes them to a family dacha in Ukraine, where she assures me there are hardly any mafiyeh kids to influence my darling daughter." "You must be loving this," Perry said. Tjan's face went serious. "This is the best thing that's ever happened to me." "I'm really happy for you, buddy."