A Marriage of Convenience

Characters/Pairings: Gabriel/Elle, Gabriel/Peter, Elle/Claire, Nathan/Lyle, Noah/Tracy, baby Noah, implied past Nathan/Tracy, Claire/Tracy

Warning: Slash, het, sexual references and themes, some crack, the pairing Nathan/Lyle, suicidal thoughts, slash, some implied kinks with electrical appliances, slash, a convenient [fake] marriage, condoned adultery/infidelity, AU set somewhere after volume 4 with hints of volume 5. Nathan is alive, and himself. So is Elle.

Author's Note: My mind, as I have said numerous times before, is a cRaZy place. Proceed with caution. This is no way serious and actually started out as a crack fic. Whether it ended up that way is entirely up to the reader's opinion.

Summary: After a drunken one night stand resulting in Elle's pregnancy, will Gabriel and Elle finally fall in love and act like a real married couple? Will Peter and Claire have secret meetings to discuss the possible consequences the birth of a child will have on their unorthodox relationships with Gabriel and Elle and eventually fall in love with each other? Or is this summary totally misleading and complete bullshit?

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes or any of the characters. This is for entertainment purposes only. No profit is made or will ever be made.

Gabriel and Elle were happily married. This was most odd since both were former killers – the former killing because of compulsion, what he called an "evolutionary imperative," and the latter because she simply felt like it. For an incredibly unconventional couple, they were far less dysfunctional than most normal couples.

They rarely fought; when they did, the argument was quickly dealt with. Their house was small, compact. It had a blue door. It was enough for them, and a child if they so wished. They did not sleep in the same bed; rather, like many fifties' TV couples, they slept in single beds in the same room.

Gabriel had his own private business fixing watches – he worked from the basement and spent most of his time down there, surrounded by wine bottles and the tools of his trade. He found it peaceful, relaxing. No longer was his mind plagued by that pesky evolutionary imperative, to cut into people's brains and poke around in there, searching for abilities.

Elle was an electrician. Most of their joint income came from her. She found using her ability for the simple tasks her employers needed her for quite enjoyable, always finding new ways in which to keep her interest in the job. She was out of the house most of the time, knowing that her husband could take care of all the household tasks while she was away. If he couldn't, there was always Lyle, who needed the extra cash.

It was a Monday when she opened the basement door and called down to him.

"Gabriel, you didn't get any cranberry sauce! I specifically told you to get it when you went grocery shopping." She sighed, leaning against the door. She crossed her arms. "Now what am I going to use with the chicken? Peter, Claire and Nathan are coming tonight, did you forget that?"

Gabriel continued to concentrate on the watch he was repairing. "It should be up there, sweetheart," he said. "Did you check the other sauces? It could be behind them."

He half listened to her stomp back into the kitchen and open the cupboard. A half smile lit up his face as he heard the semi-embarrassed sigh she gave when she found the bottle of cranberry sauce. "Don't worry, darling, I found it!" she yelled, rather unnecessarily.

He brought his full attention back to the task at hand. The watch was due to be picked up tomorrow morning. He'd let the time slip by, had concentrated more on preparing for dinner that night. Now he had to do a rush job – or, well, as rushed a job as Gabriel ever did, which wasn't much. If their guests arrived before he was done, they would just have to wait.

By the time he was finished, he could smell the meal Elle had cooked. He placed his tools neatly back in their places and took the stairs two at a time.

Elle turned towards him as the basement door opened. She wore a plain white apron, her blonde hair tied back in a tight ponytail. "Darling, could you please set the table?" she asked, her hand going up to absentmindedly pat her hair. "I need to go get dressed." She bounced on the spot, nervously. "It's been too long since we did this."

Gabriel smiled and cupped her cheek. "Well, they have jobs too," he replied. "We can't put all our lives on hold just because we both have..." The corner of his mouth went up in a mockery of his past smile. "...appetites."

Elle mirrored his smile. "That's true, dear," she purred. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind, though."

He pursed his lips, trying to repress a smirk. "Now," he said, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "I have a table to set and you should go get dressed." He lowered his voice. "We should all look our best."

She giggled and rushed off. He shook his head, still smiling, and then went to get some cutlery. He laid them neatly on the white tablecloth with the blue flowery designs in the corners, fork on the left and knife on the right. Each glass was rotated once counter-clockwise when he put them on the table. Once all of that was done, he went off to get dressed. As he had told Elle, they must all look their best.

Elle was downstairs, smoothing down her blue dress, when there was a knock at the door. She was the first to reach it, Gabriel just a few steps behind her. They opened the door together.

Peter smiled at them, crookedly as always. He gestured behind him. "Claire and Nathan are still in the car," he said. "Getting the present."

"A present?" Elle squeaked, clapping her hands together in delight. She glanced up at Gabriel. "Oh, darling, what do you think it could be?"

Gabriel stepped aside to let Peter in as Elle pressed her hand to her mouth, blinking in a rather surprised way. "You don't think...?" She gasped, sounding absolutely delighted. "She wouldn't!"

They both glanced down the path, to see Claire and Nathan heaving a large, brown cardboard box between them. Elle stepped over the doorstep and raced down the path. When she came to them, she bounced beside them, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, and to muffle her excitement.

Claire smiled at her. Nathan looked depressed. He was waiting to die, so it was to be expected.

They eventually lowered the cardboard box gently to the middle of the living room floor. Elle hovered over them, eyes wide with excitement. Claire shook her head, a tiny smirk on her lips. "We'll leave it til after dinner," she said, her brown eyes twinkling. "It's a surprise."

"Ooh," Elle said, clapping her hands together. "I do love surprises!"

They all sat down to dinner, murmuring compliments to the chef as they dug in. Elle smiled, proud at her accomplishments, despite the fact that she did this at least once, sometimes even twice or three times, a week. She had rarely been complimented in her old life. She had lived for the occasional one she'd receive from her father, and now she received them regularly. Sometimes she couldn't get over her good fortune.

"Claire, why couldn't your father come?" Gabriel asked.

Claire sighed, and avoided glancing in Nathan's direction. "He's with the Other Woman," she said, somewhat petulantly. "I still haven't met her."

Elle patted her lightly on her hand. "She's probably ugly," she whispered. "With webbed feet."

Claire's mouth quivered.

"And a glass eye," Elle added, the addition garnering a snort from Claire.

"It takes all sorts to make a world," said Gabriel, nodding firmly. Peter bent his head, but Gabriel managed to see his smile.

"It certainly does," Peter murmured, his finger brushing lightly against the other man's.

The meal would have continued in silence but for the quiet clatter of cutlery and the murmur of voices, again complimenting Elle as the next course was brought out. Eventually the dinner ended and Gabriel stood, wiping his mouth with a serviette. "Well, Peter," he said. "I'd like to show you the watch I'm working on, if you don't mind coming down to the basement."

Peter stood up. "No, I wouldn't mind at all," he said politely, and followed Gabriel when he left the table, into the kitchen and down the basement steps. Gabriel turned around as Peter reached the last step and crushed their mouths together, teeth nipping and drawing blood. Peter pushed him up against the first of the wine cabinets, smashing the glass and toppling it to the ground.

"Do you spend the entire week cleaning this up?" Peter asked, somewhat breathless, as Gabriel pushed him away only to have Peter push him to the ground and straddle him. He began to slowly take his clothes off, folding them up and placing them neatly on the bench above them. He then did the same to Gabriel's clothes.

"You're so good to me," Gabriel whispered, his hands drifting up Peter's chest. Peter grabbed them and pulled them down, interlacing their fingers.

"You didn't answer the question," he said quietly, bringing the other man's hands to his lips.

Gabriel closed his eyes. "No, it only takes me a day."

"You cheat," Peter said, as though stating a fact. Gabriel nodded.

"Sylar," Peter whispered into Gabriel's hands and was rewarded with a poorly concealed shiver. He smiled.

"Do you know why I'm so good to you?" he whispered, leaning down until their mouths were inches apart.

Gabriel shook his head, although he knew full well why.

"Because I love you."

Gabriel smiled up at him, a smile so bright it almost made Peter believe the sun had arisen before him. "And I love you," Gabriel replied.

Peter tilted his head to the side, smiled, and then leaned down the remaining few inches to crush their mouths together once more.

Meanwhile, in the dining room, Claire, Elle and Nathan sat around the table in silence. Nathan stood up. "I'll just go watch TV upstairs," he said. He stumbled off up the stairs, to do just that.

Nathan was depressed. He'd almost died twice, both by his brother's hand. Then he'd actually died, this time by Gabriel's hand. He'd thought, finally, his lot would end. Finally. But no. Apparently fate had more in store for him. Once he had returned the third time, he'd had enough. Life was shit. His wife had left him, awhile ago, but it still stung. His sons barely spoke to him, not that he could blame them.

The only people who would speak to him were: a) his mother, who continuously hovered over him and fussed as though he would break at any moment, b) his brother, who spent most of his time either fixing other people's problems or in Gabriel's basement doing he did not want to know what, c) his daughter, who seemed to have developed a rather unhealthy habit involving electricity, and d) that daughter's adoptive father, Noah Bennet.

He knew what Peter and Claire did when they were here. Well, he didn't know any specifics but he had an imagination. He could guess. He'd been fine with it because he was able to do similar things with one Noah Bennet. Apparently that had ended when Noah had met this Other Woman. He didn't know her identity. He hoped, just as Claire had, that she did have webbed feet and a glass eye.

He collapsed on the bed in the spare bedroom and switched on the TV. He flipped through the channels, barely paying attention to what was on. He eyed the window speculatively. Perhaps he could jump, end it all now.

The other thing that depressed Nathan was that he was waiting to die. He knew he should have been dead – he felt dead inside, as clichéd as that might sound. Except when he was with Noah, engaged in their...activities, the feeling had increased exponentially over the past two or three years. He'd thought about trying to commit suicide several times. Each time the way became more desperate, and more imaginative. Surprisingly he hadn't thought about trying to jump out a window yet. He wondered what it would feel like, to hit the ground and go crunch.

He eventually settled on reruns of some inane comedy. The female lead had an odd laugh. He almost smiled.

Half way into the next episode a blond teenager entered the room and flopped down on the bed next to him. Nathan glanced over at him. He looked familiar. After some mental searching he recognised the boy as one Lyle Bennet. Noah's son. Claire's brother. He wondered how Lyle had managed to find a way into the house.

"I have a spare key," said the boy, as though reading his mind. With a start, Nathan realised that wasn't an entirely impossible scenario. Lyle turned his head to get a better look at him. "Wanna make out?"

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "How old are you?"

Lyle didn't hesitate. "Nineteen," he answered promptly. When Nathan looked sceptical, Lyle added, "I have my driver's license if you need proof." He started riffling through his coat pockets.

Nathan waved a hand, dismissing the gesture. "No, it's fine." He gazed at Lyle, appraisingly. "Do you know what happens in this house?"

Lyle smiled. "Of course. They wouldn't let me have a spare key if I didn't know. They're nice people."

"Are we talking about the same people?" Nathan asked.

"Well, despite their sinful appetites," Lyle replied matter-of-factly, "they don't murder people." He paused. "Not anymore, anyway."

Nathan nodded. The young man had a point. "You mentioned something about...making out?"

Lyle smiled and crawled on top of him. The window would have to wait.

Once Nathan had left, Elle turned to Claire and clapped her hands together, clasping them to her chest. "Now can we open the present?" she gazed, eyes alight with excitement.

Claire smiled. "Of course. But first," she added, "we have to clean up."

Elle sighed. "They always leave the clean up to us womenfolk." She pouted.

"Bloody bastards, the lot of them," Claire replied with a straight face.

Once the dishes were washed, dried and put away in their proper places, Claire led Elle back into the living room. She stood back as the other woman knelt down and opened the cardboard box reverentially.

Elle's blue eyes widened in delight as she gazed down at the contents of the box. She glanced up at Claire. "You didn't?" she whispered.

Claire knelt down beside her. "Anything for you," she murmured, taking her hand. Elle squeezed it gently.

She then proceeded to push Claire to the ground, each light touch of her hands bringing a sudden zap to Claire's skin. Claire jumped, reflexively because this was no painful experience. She watched Elle's hands carefully unbutton her blouse, marvelled at the blue sparks which appeared every now and then. She glanced up at Elle, grinning, never tiring of their games.

"Now," Elle said, her voice clear, and bright with excitement she could finally unleash. "What should we start with?" She smirked, raising an eyebrow. "How about we let it be a surprise?"

As Claire nodded eagerly, Elle reached a hand into the cardboard box and picked out an object at random. Claire's eyes widened, her heartbeat becoming ever more erratic, as she stared up at the object in Elle's hand.

Elle pressed the light bulb to the other woman's belly and switched it on with a flick of her wrist and a flash of blue sparks. She watched, fascinated, as Claire bucked, back arching, so that she could bring her skin ever closer to the burning heat of the light bulb. She knew if she switched it off Claire would make that cute whining sound she always did, and so she kept the light bulb going. She could only handle so many of those sounds before she herself became undone and gave up control to Claire.

"You're beautiful," she said, leaning down to brush their lips together.

"So are you," Claire murmured against her lips before moving ever so slightly to capture Elle's mouth with her own. Elle was lost, letting the light bulb roll to the floor where it smashed. She wondered idly where Claire had bought such a cheap piece of crap when Claire's hand moved lower and her mind shut down.

Downstairs Peter and Gabriel lay across the bench, satisfied for now. They'd had to move their clothes and Gabriel's tools to a safer location. Gabriel was looking at them, positioned on top of the only piece of furniture he wouldn't allow Peter to desecrate. His book shelf.

"Do you know what Claire bought Elle?" Peter whispered in his ear. He turned over on his side and propped himself up on his elbow.

"Do I want to know?" Gabriel asked, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth.

"Loads of electrical appliances," Peter answered. He shook his head and stared up at the ceiling. "Personally I don't understand why they need all of that stuff." He turned his head and smiled at Gabriel. "We get by."

"That's because we have multiple abilities," Gabriel replied, as though he'd said this a thousand times before. "We don't need props. They do."

"Forgive my addled brain," Peter said. He smiled lopsidedly. "I just can't seem to concentrate when you're around."

Gabriel sniffed, resuming the position he had been in, lying on his back, gazing up at the ceiling. "Well, I am irresistible."

Peter grinned and moved back on top of him. "Now, what would you like to do this time?" he asked, shivering as Gabriel smiled up at him, grazing a finger up his chest, leaving a line of blood behind. They both gazed at it until the line of blood had vanished.

"You never get tired of that, do you?" Peter asked, head tilting back. He closed his eyes.

"No," Gabriel said, and did it again.

In the spare bedroom, Nathan gazed at the window. Lyle lay beside him, remote in hand. He was flipping through the channels, stopping every now and then as a program interested him. Inevitablely he would lose interest and the channel surfing would begin again.

Making out hadn't lasted very long. Lyle tried to ignore people who rarely paid him attention.

"Why do you keep staring at the window?" Lyle asked, stopping on a rerun of Dancing With The Stars.

Nathan sighed. "I'm wondering what it would be like to jump out of it."

Lyle raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you?"

Nathan shrugged, a difficult manoeuvre since he was lying down at the time. "I will then." He stood up, walked over to said window and promptly jumped out.

After several minute's silence Lyle too walked over to the window. He glanced out and saw Nathan lying in Elle's flowerbeds. His hands were placed over his chest and he was staring up at the sky. "There are stars in the sky," he said.

Lyle glanced up at the sky. "There usually are." He brought his head back in and then walked out of the room and down the stairs. He tried to simultaneously cover both his eyes and his ears as he ran past the living room and out of the door.

He went and lay down beside Nathan, on the grass beside the flowerbeds because said flowerbeds were already covered. "This is nice," he said. "Do you do this often?"

Nathan laughed, for the first time in two years.

In the living room, the cardboard box's contents were strewn all over the floor, not because they had been used but because Claire had pushed the box over when she'd tried to straddle Elle.

"This is what happens when you try to take control," Elle said, who had, despite everything, managed to be the one lying on the floor. "Everything gets very messy."

"Well," Claire said, leaning down to trail kisses in between Elle's breasts. "I am generally a very messy person. I'd thought you were used to it by now."

"I know," Elle replied, breathless. Her mind went blank.

Claire pulled away, smirking. "You forgot what you were going to say." She sounded altogether far too pleased with herself.

Elle huffed. "Well, with you doing what you're doing, how's a girl supposed to remember anything at all?"

Claire's smirk softened. "Remember that I love you. That's all."

Elle smiled up at her. "I do. All the time."

***

"Dad, pick up, I know you're there..."

"Yes, Claire Bear?"

"We're having dinner at Elle's on Friday. Bring the Other Woman. We're all dying to meet her."

"...what time?"

"Be there at six."

***

Peter and Claire were already there by the time Noah knocked on the door. Nathan had chosen not to come despite the fact that his mood had definitely improved. Peter had meant to ask why, and what exactly he was doing on a Friday night when he had no job and their mother paid for all his expenses but had promptly forgotten because it had been a Thursday and Gabriel was under his desk.

He sometimes thanked god for the very nice fact that he now had an office, due to him being the leader of what had once been the Company, had for some time been called the Resistance and was now simply known as Didly Squat, a company which sold electrical appliances. On the surface, anyway. At its core it was known as – due to a joke which had since lost its meaning – the Mutant Union.

In any case, Nathan was not there when Noah knocked on the door, accompanied by the Other Woman. Peter and Claire opened the door, as Gabriel and Elle were busy putting the finishing touches on dinner.

Claire gaped at the Other Woman, recognising her instantly. "Tracy?" she exclaimed, clearly shocked. "Tracy Strauss?" Her lip trembled. "How could you, Dad? My firs..." She paused then continued. "Second!" She wailed loudly and ran off upstairs.

Noah sighed and glanced at Tracy, who seemed terribly amused at the whole situation. Peter merely stood there, holding the door open. They had yet to enter. Minutes later, Elle peeked her head into the entrance hall. She frowned, began to ask where Claire was, and then spotted Tracy.

"Ah," she said. Peter nodded. Elle promptly went upstairs where she found Claire with her head buried in the pillow on Elle's own bed.

"Oh, Claire," she murmured, rubbing the other woman's back soothingly.

Claire sniffed and turned on her stomach. "How could he?"

Elle shrugged helplessly. "There's no accounting for taste."

A smile tugged at the corner of Claire's mouth. "Dad and I seem to have the same tastes, then."

"Well, both of your dads, if I know my gossip." She paused. "And I do," she added, just in case it wasn't clear enough by the pause. She was silent for a moment.

"Also, according to the gossip, your brother is with Nathan," she said, pausing as Claire looked at her, somewhat confused. "Yes, Lyle, your brother, the guy who mows our lawns and cleans the house when we're both too busy. That brother. He's taking Nathan to a movie tonight. That's why Nathan's not here." Again she was quiet, this time waiting for Claire's response.

Claire gaped at her. "You're kidding me."

Elle shook her head.

Claire fell back against the pillows. She ran a hand over her face. "Does Peter know?" she asked.

Again Elle shook her head. "No." She added, "And neither does Gabriel."

Claire snorted. "Men."

"Well, it is gossip."

"No excuse."

They smiled at each other. Elle scooted closer. Claire made room for her. "You know, we don't have to go downstairs," she murmured in Claire's ear.

"I'm cool with that," Claire replied, dredging up a line she'd once heard some girl utter in some movie. At some point. She couldn't quite remember which girl, which movie or at what time. This was due to Elle's proximity, she was sure of it.

Downstairs, Peter finally ushered Noah and Tracy inside. Gabriel also finally came to see what the fuss was all about, wiping his hands on a tea towel. "Oh, hey, Tracy," he said when he saw her. There was a moment's pause before he blinked and realised the significance of her presence. "Ah," he said. "I see."

They sat down to dinner, Claire and Elle both marked absences at the table. Peter knew what they were doing and so shook his head slightly when Gabriel thought to see what was keeping them. They ate in silence after that, since there was no chef to compliment. Well, Peter kept giving Gabriel mental compliments but they didn't count because they inevitably devolved into dirty requests.

"So, Noah," Gabriel said, clearing his throat at the same time as he mentally pulled himself out of the most recent of Peter's mental fantasies. "How are things?"

As Noah began a rather slow and plodding story of what he'd been doing, Peter tried and succeeded to divert Gabriel's attention back to him, by grazing the bottom of his foot up and down the other man's leg. Tracy's increasingly more amused by the second expression showed that she knew exactly what was going on.

Eventually they left, Noah relieved, Tracy clearly trying to stifle laughter. Gabriel closed the door behind them and leaned against it with a sigh. He was just as much relieved by their departure as they were. "I want to get drunk," he said.

Peter smiled. "I like your way of thinking, Mr. Gray." He dragged Gabriel, quite willingly, down to the basement.

By the time Peter and Claire left, both Gabriel and Elle were completely smashed. Elle had wandered down into the basement in search of alcohol around ten o'clock and had taken a few [six] bottles up with her. So it was all they could do just to collapse on one of the beds in their room, giggling and poking each other.

***

Elle woke up with a pounding head. She groaned and tried to move but found herself underneath a very heavy weight. She wondered, heart beating fast, whether one of the cabinets in the bedroom had fallen on top of her. She tried to push it off and slowly became aware that whatever was on top of her was not a cabinet. It was soft, for one thing. And it definitely wasn't Claire.

She froze, horrified, as she realise who it was. "Gabriel," she said loudly, pushing his shoulder.

He moved his head and blinked up at her. "What?"

She tried to make a gesture that encompassed all that might possibly have happened. The horrified expression she knew was on her face slowly appeared on his. He tried to get off her, became tangled in the blankets and fell off the bed.

He barely blinked, and neither did she. Both made their way to their respective bathrooms as fast as they possibly could, scrubbing at their skin uselessly and muttering, "Girl germs!" and "Boy germs!"

When their extensive showers were completed, Gabriel sat on his bed, clothed in a suit and tie because it was Saturday and he was supposed to take Peter out for lunch, and Elle sat opposite him, on her bed. They stared at each other, each trying not to think about what had so obviously happened last night. Neither could remember much, which was definitely a good thing.

"We'll talk about this when I get home," Gabriel muttered, breaking eye contact. Elle nodded and he left.

She sat there for a moment and then, as though a switch somewhere had been flipped, grabbed for the phone. She dialled Claire's number and wailed to her about what had happened for well over two hours. When Claire finally realised what she was talking about, she hung up the phone and made her way over there.

Gabriel could barely make it to Peter's apartment but he did, eventually. Peter dragged him inside and proceeded to have his way with him, only to stop when Gabriel didn't react at the name "Sylar." He slowly went numb as Gabriel told him what happened.

"Claire and I should have stayed," he murmured. Gabriel could only nod.

***

When Elle found out she was pregnant, she burst into tears. Thankfully Claire was there. She laid a hand on the other woman's stomach and said, "Our baby. She, or he, will be beautiful."

Elle smiled at her, brightly and beautifully. Claire felt her heart flutter.

"Yeah," Peter said, taking Gabriel's hand and laying it over Claire's. He then pressed his own hand over Gabriel's. "Beautiful."

Elle smiled at them all.

***

They decided to call the baby Noah, if it was a boy, or Tracy, if it was a girl. It was meant to be a joke, since if they'd never been invited to dinner neither Gabriel nor Elle would have had reason to be drunk and hence none of this mess would have happened.

Noah was horrified when they told him. Tracy was amused and then dragged him away before he made a fool of himself.

Nathan was pleased when they told him, although none of them really believed this had anything to do with the actual news. Lyle said he'd be the kid's favourite uncle. When both Elle and Gabriel reminded him he'd be the kid's only uncle, he smiled evilly and said, "I know."

***

It was a Saturday when the baby was born. He was a boy. They called him Noah. It is said that when the baby's newly married namesake found out, he promptly fainted.

***

Peter and Claire moved in with Gabriel and Elle. They said this was because they wanted to be near the baby, and this was partly true. Every one of their friends had imaginations – some even had telepathy – and so could guess at the other part.

Nathan finally died four semi-apocalypses and one major one later.

Lyle gazed up at the stars every night since. Then he went inside and watched Star Trek.

Noah and Tracy remained happily married. That is, until Sandra and her husband Doug died in a freak stove fire and Mr. Muggles and Ms. Lovegood came to live with them. The dogs slowly began to drive their reluctant owners crazy until finally they had had enough. Noah, who was perhaps a little more crazy, threatened to drug the dog food with cyanide. Tracy sent to the dogs to live with Gabriel, Elle, Peter, Claire and the baby.

The arrangement was satisfactory for both sides.

He sat back and watched, wondering if anyone would believe him. He decided, after much deliberation, to change the names. He was told the storyline was simply unbelievable and so changed it, bringing back the original names. He wondered why people harped on about the truth when they clearly did not want it.

Well, you were warned.

I don't know who the guy at the end is, but maybe you do.

Review please.