Chapter Text
It took Erik almost twenty minutes to walk down to the pub rather than drive. He still wasn’t sure if he would drink. Perhaps he shouldn't. He needed to be sharp to counter anything Gerda might throw at him. Besides, he always ended up drinking more than he’d intended, at least recently. Even if most of those times had been alone at home, with no company but the bottle. And then there was the night he’d spilled his guts to Gerda, landing him in this whole confounded mess.
Erik came upon the pub soon enough, then slowed to a stop, wincing. He’d forgotten it was on that street; an area where damage to the road and pavement had been caused by, well, the colossal Troll beneath Trolberg, turning in her grave at the events unfolding above, events Erik had caused. They’d repaired all of the damage now, all but this section. The street ended in a dead end, and so the upheaval, resulting in a great enormous crack across the footpath that snaked to the other side of the road, only cut off the end of the street and a few parking spaces. Instead of repairing it, the city had piled a few heavy concrete bollards across the road. On the footpath, the crack had only resulted in a difference in height of a couple of centimetres. The sharp edge was painted in bright yellow, making it more visible, probably to deter trips. Erik wasn’t certain how useful that would be outside a pub.
“Shoddy,” he muttered under his breath. But that wasn’t what made his chest tighten. He’d have to step over it to make his way to the door, and his feet didn’t want to move.
“Well, well, well. Look who decided to turn up.”
Erik flinched.
The Bell Keeper stood at his shoulder, smirking. "Not getting cold feet, are you?" His gaze fell on the crack and then snapped up to meet Erik’s. The smirk faded. Gods. He knew exactly what was going through his head, didn’t he? That crack was his fault.
Erik scowled, squared his shoulders, and stepped over the crack and into the pub.
A wall of noise sapped the energy from Erik’s determined stride in seconds, bringing him to an awkward halt just inside the doorway. He wasn’t usually unnerved by crowds. It wasn’t even that crowded, and despite the lack of uniforms, he quickly ascertained everyone here was Safety Patrol. Gerda must have booked the place out. They’d filled a few booths and officers were jostling around the bar, ordering drinks.
Erik’s guts knotted up. It was one thing to be around these people when he had a job to do. He’d been able to talk to them then, as easily as it always came to him, but he’d always had the excuse of a drain to clean if he’d needed a quick exit. This was all social, and it shouldn’t have bothered him. He liked talking. But this was different, and he’d never, in all his time as chief, arranged anything like this. He’d been chummy with some of the officers, knew a bit about their personal lives, but that had been before his promotions.
How the hell was he supposed to deal with any of them? What awkward questions might they ask? They weren’t even afraid of him anymore; Gerda had seen to that. Would anyone dare bring up the wall?
The Bell Keeper pushed past him with a grunt and moved towards the bar. Erik stopped just short of reaching out to grab him before he got out of reach. The man’s company shouldn’t have seemed better than braving the crowd.
Erik drew a deep breath. Well, he was here now. He would not back down. He went to the bar, not making eye contact with anyone, and arrived safely. He stayed away from the Bell Keeper, as he didn’t want the man to think he was following, or trying to keep near him. That would be beyond awkward.
“What’ll it be?” asked the Bartender. “Anything soft or on tap can go on the Safety Patrol tab. But if you want spirits, you gotta pay.”
“Er…” Erik still wasn’t certain he should drink.
“I suppose it depends how comfortable you are singing in front of people.”
“I have no intention of singing,” Erik snapped. “A soda water is fine.”
He took his drink, leaning back against the bar, and took a gulp. Yeah, bubbles were a poor substitute. But he’d rather be nervous than risk accidentally spilling his guts again.
“Alright everyone, listen up!” Gerda’s voice boomed out, followed by an almighty screech.
Erik winced, but the microphone was quickly brought back under control. If Gerda’s words hadn’t done the job, she now had everyone’s undivided attention. She stood on a small stage, with a screen off to the side, and a small sound booth manned by a boy who may not have even been out of teens, off in the shadows.
Gerda didn’t seem ready for the attention; she was blushing, standing awkwardly in the coloured lights illuminating the small stage, and Erik couldn’t recall if he’d seen her out of uniform before. She’d told him she would be, and it shouldn’t have been a surprise, shouldn’t have made his heart catch a little. She wore a sleeveless pale blue top that sparkled, and white pants. Her hair was done up, in a similar ponytail to the one she usually wore, but messier.
“Er… ahem…” The microphone gave a faint chirp of feedback. “I suppose you are all wondering why—”
“Sing a song!”
“Yeah, Chief!”
“Whadaya think we’re all here for?!”
Gerda went even pinker. “Well, I had something in mind…”
“It can’t be in German!” shouted the Bell Keeper, grinning.
Erik fixed the man with a glare that went entirely unnoticed. He would have never tolerated such disrespect. Gerda’s gaze hardened. Perhaps she wouldn’t either. Then she broke into a grin. The awkwardness lifted entirely, and she pointed in an exaggerated flourish across the room, pinning the Bell Keeper in her sights. “I think someone just volunteered!”
The Bell Keeper’s grin faded, eyes darting from side to side at the sudden attention. His gaze hardened, and he downed his glass of whisky, slammed it onto the bar, then strode across the room to a chorus of cheers and catcalls. Gerda looked as if she were about to burst out laughing as she handed him the microphone.
“Slipped out of that one, didn’t ya?” he muttered. But he still took it, and, after a quick conference with the DJ, music filled the room. The Bell Keeper started belting out a very loud, slightly off key, version of “I would walk 500 miles.”
Gerda slipped through the crowd, looking somewhat relieved. She was stopped often, saying hello, and even hugging a few of her officers. She finally made it through, and all but bounced up to the bar and threw herself onto the stool beside Erik. She ordered a beer, and, after taking a huge swig that left Erik staring at her, let out a deep sigh. “Phew, that was a close one.” Her eyes widened. She’d spoken to him, but Erik suddenly had the impression she hadn’t realised whom she’d sat down next to. She gave a small smile. “Erik, you came.”
“I, well, you issued me a challenge.”
“I… did?”
Oh hell. Had she only invited him to be polite? Erik’s cheeks grew warm. “Yes, well, I thought you did. Not a very good one, I might add. You bailed from the mic the first chance you got. You can’t make a bigger fool of yourself than me if you won’t even sing.” Erik turned away and took a great big swig of his soda water, trying to match her gulp of beer. He choked.
“Erik, careful!” Gerda rested a hand against his back.
Erik put a hand to his face, feeling water run out of his nose and over his moustache. The bubbles were burning up his sinuses, making his eyes water.
Gerda patted his back, then waved the bartender over and took a napkin, handing it to Erik. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“So…” She stared down at her beer, and a smile tugged at her lips. “Perhaps you’d like to sing?”
“What? I never said-”
“I seem to remember you saying you were classically trained.”
“I was… in the school theatre…” Erik mumbled.
“Well, the acoustics in my bathroom are pretty good, but that is still more than me. Of course, if you’re scared…”
“I am not!” Erik said with a huff. “I am not the one who just ran off the stage, and left the Bell Keeper murdering ‘The Proclaimers’.”
“It’s karaoke. It’s not supposed to be good. It’s more fun if it’s terrible. I figured it would help Safety Patrol relax, unwind, get to know everyone a little better.”
Erik stared down at the bar. “After I had them wound so tight, you mean?”
“Erik, that includes you, too. I'm sorry if I've made you feel as if you're beneath everyone else.”
“Even if I deserved it?”
Gerda looked away. Ah. So she was trying to be nice. But had she yet forgiven him? That Erik wasn’t sure of. She looked up at him with a smirk. “I think you need to get up and sing.”
Erik folded his arms. “Only if you do it.”
“What? Gerda, no-“
Gerda slammed her palms down on the bar, pushing herself up, right as the Bell Keeper finished and the music cut out. Everyone looked at her. She flushed, then said, far too loudly. “Erik and I, we have decided we're singing a duet.”
“No, I didn’t-“
A beat. And then the pub erupted in cheers. Before Erik could stop them, hands grabbed him, tugging him up and away from the bar, away from his soda water, towards the front of the room. Despite his best efforts, protesting as loudly as he dared, unable to be heard, and his feet trying to find purchase on the floor and push back, he could not resist.
Gerda, courage renewed, pushed through ahead of him and bounded up onto the stage. By the time a very reticent Erik found his way there, the music was already starting.
“You said you liked musicals,” she said. “So I picked us the perfect song from one.”
Erik recognised the music a split second before the words popped up on the screen. He’d watched this musical with his mother many times. This was what Gerda wanted him to sing? Oh hell. It had all been a trick, just another punishment in her ongoing mission to make him pay.
Gerda grinned at him and, lifting the microphone, sang the first line. “Anything you can do, I can do better; I can do anything better than you!”
Erik scowled, saying nothing. Gerda smiled encouragingly and, undeterred, simply sang his lines for him. “Yes, I can; No, you can't; Yes, I can. Anything you can be, I can be greater; sooner or later, I'm greater than you.” This time, she waited for him, waited for him to sing the next lines, to join in. Erik shifted uncomfortably. Gods, everyone was looking at him.
“Come on, Ahlberg, she's making a fool out of you!” yelled the Bell Keeper, of all people.
She bloody well was. But could the choice of song really be no mistake? Was she trying to send him a message - that she really was better at being the Chief than he’d been?
Gerda lowered the microphone and mouthed at him. “Come on, please.”
Her wide eyes staring up at him let doubt slip in. No. Gerda was not that vindictive. At worse, if she meant anything by this, it was just teasing. Well, he could certainly do better than her singing a song, especially one charged with such competitive energy.
Gerda started the next verse. “I can shoot a partridge with a single cartridge.”
Erik narrowed his eyes at her, then raised his microphone, not even looking at the lyrics. “I can get a sparrow with a bow and arrow.”
He’d finally joined in, and Safety Patrol all responded with cheers and whoops.
Gerda broke into a wide grin. “I can live on bread and cheese.”
“And only on that?”
“Neither of you can. We’ve seen you eat donuts!” someone in the crowd called out.
“Yes!”
Erik scoffed, earning a further rise from Safety Patrol. “So can a rat! Any note you can reach, I can go higher; I can sing anything higher than you.”
“No, you can't!” Gerda shot back
“Yes, I can,” Erik sang, a little higher.
Gerda hit the note above. “No, you can't.”
“Yes, I can.”
“No, you can't.”
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can’t!” Gerda’s voice was struggling now.
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!” Erik hit the highest note he could. Or at least, had been able to hit when he was a lot younger. He winced as his voice cracked over it.
It would have been a complete embarrassment on a theatre stage. But Safety Patrol erupted in cheers. They were enjoying this? They were cheering him on. They actually wanted him here. He’d given a thousand speeches in front of them all; but this was different. They were a part of this. He was a part of this.
When Erik started the next verse, his voice wavered a little, and not from the high note. “Anything you can buy, I can buy cheaper. I can buy anything cheaper than you.”
No one seemed to notice, least of all Gerda, who grinned and shot back at him. “Fifty cents?”
“Forty cents!”
“Thirty cents?”
“Twenty cents!”
“No, you can’t.” Now Gerda’s words no longer sounded like an accusation to Erik’s ears.
Erik’s words quickly found strength again. “Yes, I can; Yes, I can!”
“Anything you can say, I can say softer.”
That he was sure she definitely couldn’t. Erik felt a smile pull at his lips. “I can say anything softer than you.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can't! Gerda really wasn’t getting any quieter.
“Yes, I can.” Erik raised his voice to match her volume. “Yes, I can.”
“I can drink my liquor faster than a flicker.”
He'd already seen her do it. His line was only half true. “I can drink it quicker and get even sicker.”
“I can open any safe.”
“Without being caught?”
“Sure!”
“That’s what I thought - you crook.” That made all of Safety Patrol laugh.
Gerda turned back to face Erik, shifting closer, so they were almost nose to nose, like she really was challenging him. “Any note you can hold, I can hold longer.”
Oh, hell no, she couldn't. Erik grinned, leaning down, so they were even closer. “I can hold any note longer than you.”
“No, you can't.”
“Yes, I can.”
“No, you can't.”
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can't!”
“Yes, I caaaaaaaan!” Erik drew a deep breath and let his final word draw out. Even though he hadn't practised singing much lately, he easily outdid Gerda in lung capacity, and she quickly gave up holding her ‘no, you can’t’, her cheeks pink. Erik let it drag on and on, and then just as his lungs were about to falter, gulped a deep breath, and, with a stride bringing him to the very front of the small stage, belted out: “YES I CAAN!” Safety Patrol erupted in cheers all around him. For him. Erik felt giddy. Hell. How had he allowed himself to miss out on this? How had he let his drive to be seen as a hero get in the way? They loved him simply for being his loud, exuberant, idiot self. Erik stood, arms wide, chest heaving, drinking it all in.
Gerda seemed to sense he was out of breath, because she started off the next verse. “Anything you can wear I can wear better; I can wear anything better than you!”
Erik’s stomach dipped, immediately thinking of Safety Patrol’s uniform. The thought brought the moment of elation and acceptance crashing down. Had she… taken over this verse on purpose? He missed his next line.
“In your vest!” Gerda shot back, grinning, not missing a beat.
“In... in my shoes?” Erik ground out.
“In your hat!”
Somehow, that was what jolted the most. “No, you most certainly do not!” Erik barked, so loudly Gerda flinched back.
Some of Safety Patrol laughed, thinking it a joke. Erik wasn’t sure it was. He looked out over them all. There were no angry faces. Not even the Bell Keeper’s. All those weeks working under them, and he’d connected with them like he never had when he was their boss. And yet Gerda had. As their boss, she had done better.
He had nearly led some of them to their deaths. Erik’s hand tightened on the microphone. If that Troll had stood, some of them would have surely died. Had a few boxes of donuts and a song changed that? Would they really forgive him, if he reminded them?
No. The cheers, the acceptance; it was all fake. Oh sure, they meant them, or thought they did. But Erik didn’t deserve them. Safety Patrol had forgotten who he truly was far too easily.
“Anything you can say I can say fast-” Gerda started.
“Alright, that's enough! We're done. We're finished.” Erik drew his hand in a sharp motion across his throat at the DJ, following it up with a glare that must have done the job. Suddenly, the music cut and there was nothing but the confusion of dying cheers.
Erik shoved his microphone into Gerda’s hands hard enough she had to take a step back. “Alright, you had your little fun!” The microphone caught the edge of his voice, but he didn’t need it. He knew well enough how to make his voice heard.
The noise in the pub dipped. Gerda blinked up at him.
“I get your point. Well played, Chief Officer Gustav.” Erik’s voice grated over her rank, dripping with scorn, finding its way around the lump in his throat. “Yes, you’re doing a far better job at this than I did, and we all know it!”
Get angry. She should be angry at him, and he searched her eyes for that flicker of anger and frustration that had been there in his last few weeks as Safety Patrol’s chief. It was there for a brief second, then Gerda’s shoulders sagged. “Erik,” she said levelly, “that is not what that was about.”
Disappointment. Close enough. “Oh yeah, interesting choice of song!”
“You said you liked musicals!”
Everyone was staring at him. Erik’s cheeks grew warm. What he was accusing Gerda of was ridiculous, and they all knew it. It was just that easy to make them hate him again. What the hell was he doing? But it was too late to back out now. “Just… just stick to making me clean toilets! You don’t have the whit for this… kind of thing…”
Damn. Damn. Erik spun on his heel, pushing through the crowd. He got to the front door, surprisingly, with no one decking him, and strode out into the street. Tears burned behind his eyes, and he took great gulps of air to keep them at bay. The yellow edged crack in the pavement halted him. Trolberg had survived, but there were still scars. Unfixable. Erik squeezed his eyes shut, putting a hand to the wall beside him to steady himself.
The noise inside swelled as the door opened. Footsteps sounded on the footpath, drawing to a halt behind him. “Alright, Erik. That is enough. You and I we need to talk.”
“Talk?” Erik’s hand against the wall tightened to a fist, and he thumped it against the brickwork before he spun around. “Now you want to talk? I tried to talk to you. Your response was to put me to bloody forced labour!”
Gerda glared up at him, fists tensed down straight by her sides. “I am surprised you even remember my response; you were so drunk. And that,” she pointed back, finger shaking, at the pub. “That you cannot blame on a few too many drinks. Did you really think I would do something so cruel? Or were you just trying to make everyone hate you?”
Erik gulped and looked away.
Gerda’s shoulders sagged. “Oh... Erik.”
“No. No! Don’t pity me; don't pretend you care! And don't pretend you want to talk. I wasn't too drunk to remember; I remember just fine. I remember you screaming at me, and threatening to turn me in, and then telling me to come into work, and not even telling me why. I remember you turning and walking away.”
“Can you blame me?”
“I just wanted you to listen!” Erik’s voice cracked. “I can't talk to anyone! They all think I'm a hero. If I say anything, I’d… I'd have to tell them what I did!” He hung his head. “You were right there by my side the whole time. You saw everything I did. And I thought you, of all people, would understand.”
Gerda drew a breath. Her hand brushed his sleeve, resting lightly on his forearm. “I do. And I get that this is hard for you. But you put yourself in this position.”
It was impossible not to look at her; she was so short. Erik dipped his head closer to his chest. “I... I know.”
“And what about the rest of Safety Patrol? They didn’t have a choice; they had to follow your orders. And I… well, I was close enough to you, so yes, I understand. But I could do nothing, or at least I felt I couldn’t. And I tried, I tried to get through to you. You say you tried talking to me, that you wanted me to listen? How do you think I felt questioning you, and either being shot down, talked over, or ignored? And I nearly went as far as you did; I nearly killed that Troll. Not for the city, but for you. You know how hard it was for me to tell you no? As chief, you wanted nothing bar unquestioning loyalty - I felt for sure I was giving up my job in that moment. I…” Her shoulders sagged, and she looked away, towards the same crack that Erik found so jarring. “I should have told you ‘no’ long before.”
“I wouldn’t…” I wouldn’t have fired you. It was what he wanted to say, but Erik wasn’t sure it was true. “I know. But I get it now, Gerda.”
“Do you? Gods, Erik, you nearly destroyed a city!” Her fingers dug into his arm. “I couldn’t stop you; I would have had to watch. Do you understand what you almost did?”
“Yes!” Why couldn’t she just understand that? “Yes, that’s what I’m trying to tell you… that I… that I get it now. I get what I did. It took too damn long. But I… gods, I know.” Erik pulled free from her grasp, put his back against the wall, and slouched down, face in his hands.
A moment later, he heard her slide down the wall to sit beside him. He kept his face buried, shoulders shaking, pressing his palms into his eyes and still the tears pushed free. “I know what I did. I know I screwed up. I would do anything to change it, but I can’t. I just had to tell someone I know what I did was wrong, and… and I’m sorry.”
Gerda’s hand resting against his back. “It’s okay.”
She rubbed his back, her touch warm, and Erik felt his breathing steady. He sniffed and wiped a sleeve across his eyes. “I get why you’re mad at me, though. You have every right to punish me by making me clean up after everyone.”
“I did not intend to punish you.”
Erik fixed her with a watery glare. “Gerda, you made me clean toilets. Without paying me.”
She sat cross-legged beside him, and she moved the arm from around him and hugged herself a little. “Okay, well, maybe I was a little. I suppose I didn’t react that well. And I certainly didn’t communicate what I really felt. And that was, apart from being angry with you, I was… I was worried about you. You were so desperate. The fact you would even confide in me, in anyone, something like that? I already knew you were struggling, and knowing you felt guilty about it too? I figured cleaning up after Safety Patrol would keep you distracted.”
“You were trying to keep me busy?”
“Sort of. And perhaps Safety Patrol was not the best place, everyone they were a little angry with how you’d treated them too. But, I know how much you enjoyed Safety Patrol, before. You kept asking to catch up with me, so I figured you missed the company. And it made it easier for me to keep an eye on you.”
Erik snorted. “You did more than keep an eye on me. You nearly broke my front door down because I didn't show up for work one day. Don't you think maybe that was a bit much?”
He'd meant it teasingly, but Gerda didn't meet his gaze. “I was very worried that day. It is impossible to tell, sometimes, how well someone, anyone, is handling things. I was already worried for you, and I thought that perhaps it had all got too much for you and you had really… hurt yourself.”
“Well, I did punch a wall.” Erik’s stomach dipped. That wasn’t what she meant at all. “Oh.”
Gerda gave a small shrug. “If anything were to happen to you, I would miss you. You are still my friend Erik, despite it all. I thought getting you back in the thick of it all again would help. And making you serve them, it would help them see you in a different light.”
He had enjoyed these past few weeks. It had not been all that bad when he thought about it. Not as bad as sitting around at home, moping. And he’d gone and thrown it all away again, in a moment, with a few angry words.
“As well as teach you a bit of a lesson,” said Gerda. She finally looked up at him, smiling a little. “Alfur was right. Perhaps I should have been honest with you from the start.”
Erik sniffed and looked away. “It wouldn't have helped. Look what I just did! I’ve messed everything up again.”
“Erik, Safety Patrol have already accepted you back - and that was after everything that happened leading up to the wall. I doubt one little tantrum is going to change that.” Gerda rose, dusting off her white pants, which now had patches of dirt on them, and extended a hand. “Come on, I will not force you to tell them all your secrets. But I think you can manage an apology for a brief moment of stupidity.”
Erik took her hand, allowing her to haul him up. “I’m still not sure they’ll accept one.”
“There is only one way to find out. They don’t hate you Erik.”
Gerda walked back into the pub ahead of him, Erik trailing behind. The conversation dipped as officers looked up from their drinks. They were between songs, and the hush was palatable.
Gerda put a hand on Erik’s shoulder, gently easing him forward. “Someone has something to say.”
Erik’s cheeks flushed, and he lowered his gaze. “I… sorry. I reacted, and, well, I didn’t mean what I said. I was being an ass. And, well… sorry, is all.” It sounded lame to his ears. He could make a grandiose speech about how he would free the city from the Trolls, but couldn’t articulate an apology?
The quiet stretched for a moment more.
“I’m not sure what else to say…”
“Ahlberg, it’s okay.”
“Yeah, we forgive you.”
“It’s fine - we already knew you were an ass.”
More officers joined in, talking over each other, the noise picking back up. Erik almost let the moment slide. Instead, he winced and raised a hand. “No.” He cleared his throat. “No, please, just stop and… and let me finish.
“I’m sorry, and not just for tonight. But for everything. I treated you all like garbage. Worse, I put you all in danger… along with the city I was supposed to protect. I’d like to say it was an accident. But… it wasn’t. I just want you to know that I know I screwed up and I’m sorry.”
This time, the silence really did stretch. Gerda squeezed his arm. He’d done it now, put his foot in it yet again, but at least this time it was for a good reason.
A drink was shoved into his trembling hand. “I think that's the most honest thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth, Ahlberg,” said the Bell Keeper. “You are an ass. And if you think it wasn’t obvious you were doing anything but protect the city, then you’re an idiot to boot. Those Trolls were never a threat. Though I can’t say I blame you alone. The entire city feared them for no bloody reason. And yet, after carrying on about how great a threat they were, you were still the one to let them inside. You were the last person I expected to emphasise with them and I don’t know what changed your mind, and I certainly can’t get behind you getting a medal for it. But…well, yeah, you’re an ass. But you still changed everything when it was needed.”
"I... thanks?" Erik cleared his throat, feeling tears prick his eyes, and quickly took a gulp of the beer to cover it.
The Bell Keeper’s moustache quirked up in a lopsided smile. “Now all I’ve got to do is teach you how to make a decent coffee.”
The noise picked back up. Erik made his way over to the bar, not looking at anyone, where he sat down heavily on a barstool. Someone had started singing again. There were still a few looks coming his way, but everyone mostly left him alone. And… it was over.
How? How had it been that easy? Yet he could still feel his heart thundering away in his chest.
The barstool beside him squeaked against the floor as Gerda sat down and smiled up at him. “That was very brave of you. Especially considering how I reacted the first time you told me this.” Her shoulders sagged a little. “Perhaps you are right - I overreacted a little.”
Erik shrugged, still not game to look up from his drink.
“I’m sorry. If you like… I am here now? If you wanted to talk, that is.”
“What? Oh… no. Gerda, go, go sing or something.” Erik waved a hand. “I mean, you didn’t throw this party to sit in a corner watching someone mope. It was to let everyone have a good time, right?”
“Partly. It was to raise morale. If that meant getting up on stage and making a fool of myself for everyone’s amusement, sure. But if that means sitting with one of my staff, who just needs to be listened to, then I am prepared to do that too.” She smiled at him again.
One of her staff. The same as everyone else here. Erik gulped, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.
Gerda squeezed his arm. “I won’t yell at you this time, promise.”
THE END