There's not a lot you can do to cool off when it's boiling hot outside. You can eat a lot of ice cream, not an option when you think you're fat, even though you're like a twig; you can soak in a tub full of ice cubes, it would kind of help to have more than just a shower stall in your bathroom; you can move to Antarctica, yeah okay; or you can go to the beach. Which is what Savanna had decided upon. So, sprawled out on a large beach towel, she tanned near the water. Surprisingly, she was wearing her bikini. You see, typically, she would refuse to leave the house in anything but a one-piece, but it was so damn hot out. At the moment, she was tanning her back, so she had her head resting on another towel.

Don't fall asleep, don't fall asleep.

She'd made that mistake once, woke up with her back the color of Clifford The Big Red God. That was so embarrassing, walking around like that. Even after the burn went away, her backside was tanner than her front. Thankfully, she'd taken care of that last summer. Now all she needed to do was make sure she didn't make that mistake again.

The timer in her head went off and she slowly turned over, placing the extra towel over her face to block the sun. Today was a good day. She actually felt kind of pretty today, in her new bathing suit, her hair newly dyed so the purple stood out more. She'd thought about putting some blonde in it, but then she'd realized that that meant buying more bleaching stuff. Money is everything these days, isn't it?

With a heavy sigh, she removed the towel and picked up her book and began to read. Days like these, she kind of missed her family.

But only kind of.

There's a young man strolling along the beach, just far enough into the water that his feet are being alternately frozen to the ankles by water or scorched by the sun, in tune with the rhythmic throbbing of the tide. It's a pretty weird sensory thing, made even weirder when he has to swerve around sandcastle-building kids and walk on the hot sand.

He's a devastatingly handsome sort of guy, with dark hair encrusted by salt and sea water, wet black swimming trunks sticking to him. He'd clearly been in the water; a few drops trickled between his shoulder blades, and occasionally he'd drip. He looked like he was here for a dip, like any other sensible person escaping the heat, but really he was here for Savanna, and for Justice.

You see, she'd killed her whole family with an axe. Amor hadn't thought people actually did that, and what's worse, she did it because they were having sex. I mean, really. You've got to expect some divine retribution.

Even so, Amor is not a particularly mean-spirited God. He could have cursed her. He could have made her deformed, or demented (if she wasn't already). He could have taken away one of her arms, or given her a third nipple, or seen to it that no one would ever love her. But all he did was sit down in the sand next to her, and smile.

For now, at least.