The late-afternoon sun slanted through the half-shut blinds, striping the living-room carpet in bars of gold. Ramba lay sprawled on the couch, one ankle hooked over the armrest, controller balanced on his ribs as he and Akhil raced pixelated cars across the flat-screen. Akhil sat on the carpet, elbows on the coffee table, shoulders twitching with every sharp turn. Neither of them had heard the soft pad of bare feet on hardwood until the scent of vanilla musk drifted in, warm and sweet, wrapping itself around the room like silk.