Hi guys!
For all those who recognize my penname, no I am not dead. College is just kicking my ass, 'is all.
Now, I was supposed to post this oneshot before classes started, but I'm already 6 weeks into school (lel.); making this a WIP for a total of 2 months. I got the idea from the TV trailer of a certain movie that I'm sure you're going to figure out at the end. :P
This is an AU/AH oneshot; therefore this is the first and last update, and the characters mentioned in this story have no wings. I don't own Maximum Ride, so don't ask if I do. For those S&L readers, I'd like to see if you can find the tiny reference. ;) And lastly, please review and tell me what you think of this! :)
Also, this was beta-ed by the lovely fangsallmine1123. She's the absolute best; and if you don't already know who she is, then crawl out from under your rock and go read her stories! :D
Note: All the main characters' age range from 25-27. Just so you can visualize.
And one of the main characters is Sam (yuck) but I swear, it'll all make sense if you read it until the very end. :) Enjoy!
His watch read 11:16am. Right on schedule.
Sam looked out the tinted windows of the bank, his head turned completely to his right to see the sunny streets beyond the double doors. It was that time of day when the sun shone down directly overhead, but the weather was chilly and cool enough to walk the streets with a jacket on. He was just about ready to have lunch, having planned one with his high school friends a week ago; all he needed to do was deposit his money and he was good to go.
He was eighth, seventh, then sixth in line. Sam busied himself by reading the newspaper he brought with him from the office, taking his sweet time reading all the articles that caught his interest. The longest articles were about a peace treaty and a foreign boat that trespassed US territory. He'd browsed minor stories about a robbery at a nearby town, and completely skimmed through the multiple articles on the economy. By the time he finished and folded it up neatly, the number counter read 34 – two numbers away from his 36.
"Excuse me," a voice said from his left, "May I borrow this?"
"Sure-," Sam wouldn't have minded giving the newspaper to the stranger and turning back to his own business – he was done reading it after all – if not for the beautiful woman seated next to him.
Sweet Mother of Mercy.
Sam felt like he was in one of those cliché movies, where all he could see was the girl in front of him and everything else faded to the background.
He was an idiot. How could he have missed her when she was seated right next to him, waiting in line beside him this entire time?
She looked about his age, maybe younger, but her attire of a tight cocktail dress and a blazer exuded professionalism. Her wavy brown hair was tied into a high ponytail, with a few tendrils framing her face. She was all long legs, bright brown eyes and straight white teeth; and just damn perfect when she thanked him with a smile.
It was superficial to judge a person solely based on appearances, but Sam couldn't help it: she was perfect, and he knew it, and he was positive this was the girl of his dreams.
As a grown man, he knew better than to drool over and blatantly stare at a woman, so he turned back to face the counters of the bank, casually fixed his necktie, and discreetly snuck glances at her from the corner of his eye. She was just a palm's width away from him, so close, and he desperately hoped he looked blasé and cool – not like the nervous, awkward guy he was inside with his heart pounding in his ears.
God, he wanted to talk to her, but what was he supposed to say? He wanted to ask for her name, but that would seem too creepy. He couldn't compliment her on her outfit because that would definitely ensure that he had checked her out. And he may as well shoot himself in the face if he brought up the news or the weather.
Sam was by no means a loser, but he didn't know how to talk to a girl like her in a situation like this.
As he mulled over different topics he could start, his brain a jumble of thoughts and cheesy pick-up lines, she spoke first to his surprise. "Ugh, people these days, huh?" she spoke quietly, eyes trained on the paper open in front of her. He could almost assume that she was talking to herself, until she turned to face him and tilted her head towards the newspaper. "Like, why don't they just get a job or something?" She rolled her eyes.
At first Sam didn't understand what she was talking about, but then his eyes focused on the title of the article and the grainy picture printed next to it. She was talking about the robbery – one of the stories he didn't read.
He wanted to impress her, wanted to share his opinions and make as much small talk as he could before his number was called; but he didn't know anything about the robbery in Morgan. He would look more like an idiot if he babbled on about something he knew nothing about, so he settled for agreeing with her.
"I know right," he said with faux-exasperation, rolling his eyes as well.
In the milliseconds it took for her to turn back to the paper, he knew that this was his only opening. He didn't know if she would ever address him again, so he swallowed nervously and took the plunge. This was his opportunity.
Stop being such a pussy.
"My name's Sam," he introduced himself, extending his hand as he did so. For a moment, she looked caught off guard; and Sam was worried he came on too strong. But then she smiled at him again, eyes luminous, and she firmly shook his hand.
"Maya."
Maya. It was a beautiful name. Youthful and sophisticated – just like her.
"It's nice to meet you, Maya."
He accidentally held her hand much longer than necessary, hating himself for sounding too eager. Before she would be able to go back to reading, he decided to prolong their conversation.
"So, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?" He tried to sound casual, but wince internally at his lame attempt. 'What are you doing here?' Really Sam?
Luckily, she wasn't so put off by him and simply cocked an eyebrow, going along with it.
"Shouldn't you?"
"Touché."
"Well I was actually just about to open up a bank account," she answered anyway, slightly tilting her legs in his direction.
There. That was a good sign. That means she's interesting in continuing their conversation.
"Are you new here? Cause I've never seen you before," he asked.
"Yeah, I just got transferred here for work. Do you live around the area?" His heart swelled at her enthusiasm, idly thinking how adorable she was with her bright smiles and her genuine curiosity. He was willing to bet she was still gathering her bearings here in Forbes, and what better opportunity to get to know her than to become her first friend in this city?
"Yeah, I've got an apartment on 5th."
"Really? That's awesome! It'd be nice to know someone around here," she admitted, looking up at him through her long lashes. Damn.
Sometimes Sam was oblivious to body language, but he was so sure she was flirting with him right then.
He could've died and gone to heaven.
This was it. This was the moment he could've asked for her number with the excuse of showing her around the city someday. The question was already on the tip of his tongue, hand reaching into his pocket for his cell phone, when a gunshot made his blood run cold and everything went south from there.
Both their heads whipped to face the double doors of the bank just as a man with a gun kicked the doors open and burst through the room in the next second.
"Everyone, get down!" the man shouted, raising a hand gun skyward and shooting two bullets into the ceiling in warning.
No. This couldn't be happening.
Numbly, he got down on his knees and elbows and covered his head with his hands, faintly aware of everyone else in the room doing the same thing. He didn't scream or beg like the others were. He was just crouching, and shaking, and breathing into the ground; disbelief the only thing passing through his mind. This couldn't have possibly been his life.
He was dreaming. This couldn't have been happening because he always deposited some money at the end of the month, always at around this time, always in the same bank following the same routine. Always.
Sam knew that robbers only had one goal in mind – money; but he's seen the movies and TV shows. There were always casualties, whether someone was stupid enough to try and call the police or the robber just felt like shooting someone who looked a little too suspicious. There were too many variables, too many ways this can all go wrong that it made his stomach sick.
There was a quiet thud in the thick silence; and then suddenly a patterned flurry of gunshots rang out in succession, simultaneous to the screams that erupted from different parts of the room. Sam looked up through the hair falling into his eyes to see the man standing tall and proud on the counter.
"This is a robbery, if you didn't already figure it out," the man said calmly, but loud enough to be heard over the gunshots. As he leisurely walked down the counter, talking to everyone in the room as though he were taking a walk in the park, he shot the banker in the chest and a spot behind the counter, doing the same pattern until all five bankers seated at the counter were dead. "If any of you attempt to call the police, I will not hesitate to shoot you," he continued as he reached the end of the counter, spun around on his heel, and shot a plump woman amongst the crowd who was lifting a phone to her ear. His bullet went straight through her forehead, and Sam was close enough to see the bloody mess as it started to pour out rivulets of crimson. The robber could only grin.
"Like that."
It all happened in ten seconds. The robber had killed six people in the span of ten seconds and he smiled like he'd accomplished a new record?
Sam instantly, wholly and completely loathed the guy.
Not only did he traumatize him and ruin his perfectly good day, but he just had to come sweeping in like the cold-blooded murderer he was and actually look good at it.
The robber was no bearded middle-aged maniac with a stupid stocking over his head. He was just about Sam's age, dressed in leather shoes, dress pants and a black polo. He would've looked like an ordinary businessman (sans the gun, of course) if not for the black mask that covered the top half of his face, keeping his anonymity.
He probably worked out to look hot rather than to gain strength to use in heists. He probably practiced his smiles to con women in his free time, and used the money he stole to buy expensive clothes to show off. He was a suave, pretentious poser.
He was an asshole.
As the robber jumped off the counter gracefully, Sam tried to hold back his scoff.
"No one has to get hurt. Just stay down and do as I say; and I'll be out of here before you any of you could scream 'help'." He took his time pacing the front of the room, swinging the machine gun strapped to his shoulder lazily. "I shot the alarms under the counter, and I can shoot you if I see anyone so much as flinch. Don't test me, or you'll be joining Mrs. Piggy over here." He indicated the dead woman. "Got it?"
God, he was such an asshole.
"Now, I'll be needing an assistant." His smile was mischievous, deadly. "You."
The robber pointed his hand gun, arm straight out in Sam's direction. For a moment, all he could do was stare down the barrel of the robber's gun in wide-eyed panic, but before he was able to process what was happening or even react, a shuddered breath made him look sideways and he belatedly realized that the robber chose Maya.
Sam could almost swear that the pain in his chest was his heart breaking.
Caught up in his own panic and fear, he'd completely forgotten about the girl next to him. Although he was extremely attracted to her, self-preservation outweighed all the fascination and flirtation that went down only a few minutes ago. Sam felt like a jerk, and he wished it wasn't true, but he had put himself first simply because he wanted to get out of this alive. It was every man for himself.
And now it would be her, and not him, and he didn't know what to think.
"No," Sam whispered under his breath as Maya shakily got to her feet and fixed her skirt before walking towards the robber.
He should've done something. He should've covered her in his arms, or shielded her from view. He should've been paying more attention to her in the first place and sought to protect her in any way he could, but now he could only watch in horror as she walked right into his trap, now a pawn in his game.
"Sweetheart," the robber stood a few feet in front of her, and Sam wondered if the robber would see what he saw – how beautiful, captivating and terrified Maya was – as he turned his charm on and smiled at her. "I want you to go into the back room over there," he pointed with his gun towards the only door behind the counter, "and place all the money on hand into this bag." Reaching into his back pocket, the robber procured a large canvas sack. Sam would've rolled his eyes at that if he wasn't frozen on the spot. "If I'm not satisfied with what you got, I'll kill you and call on someone else. But if you fill up the whole bag, I might just let you live."
The robber was insane. This whole thing was insane.
As Maya reluctantly took the bag and headed into the back of the bank, Sam tried to imagine an alternate life where things would have been different. He could picture it now, standing in front of the robber with defiance and making a witty comeback to expose just how pathetic and lowly the robber really was. He would be able to dodge all his bullets as he strode forward; even with the robber's deft hand at arms; and once he was close enough to the robber he would unleash a can of pain on his ass, having taken up mixed martial arts in his youth, and get the robber in a chokehold. The people would cheer, and someone would've already called the police; and when the guy was finally handcuffed and loaded into a cop car, Maya would approach him and fuss over his well-being and bravado.
But there was none of that.
Sam could only picture how he looked now in his crouch on the ground; necktie brushing the dirty tile floor, his mouth mere inching from kissing it. He hated how he looked pitiful and weak, and he hated himself even more that he cared more about appearances rather than saving someone else's life.
Not long after, Maya appeared from the back room, her movements in her high heels awkward and unsure and she approached the robber, hands clutching the bulging canvas bag tight in her palms. Her breathing seemed to be the loudest as she came to stand just three feet away from him, her doe eyes trying not to waver from his scrutinizing stare.
Even in the face of a killer, Sam admired how brave she was being.
The robber nodded once towards the bag, a silent indication, and Maya slowly opened it to reveal its contents. He took one look at the money, blinked, then shifted his dark gaze to look into her eyes. The air was still as everyone waited for the verdict; waited to see if what this poor, innocent girl had done was enough to save her own life. With the way he was looking at her in those few seconds, almost everyone was sure she was a goner.
But then the robber's mouth tilted up at the corner, smirking in the way only he can.
"Good job, sweetheart."
In the blink of an eye, he suddenly whirled with inhumane speed, capturing Maya in a headlock and using his other hand to press the gun against her temple. The arm caging her was tight to ensure that she held onto the canvas bag, pressing her back against his chest.
"Your cooperation wasn't so hard now, was it?" He addressed the room, voice smooth. You would almost believe that it was everyone's job to follow his orders, like he was a boss casually lecturing his employees. "Now, I'm going to leave, and you're going to let me, and I'm not going to kill this girl," He flashed a parting smile. "Yet."
He had been bringing Maya along with him to the exit, walking backwards with the gun still trained to her head. She didn't fight him; she couldn't fight him.
But at the word 'yet' Sam started to think that maybe he could fight for her.
Life gives you opportunities which you could either pass up or dive headlong into, and Sam decided then and there that he wasn't going to give up the girl of his dreams. It is enough to imagine the future of what could be; and he could see himself taking Maya to the movies, and making her laugh, dropping her off at work, and introducing her to his friends.
You don't come across a girl like her every afternoon, at the end of the month, in the middle of a bank. No, they'd crossed paths at this particular moment in time not by coincidence but by fate.
Sam believed they were fated to meet.
And it was crazy, and reckless, and stupid to put so much on the line for just this one girl, but maybe she was worth every risk.
Maybe she could be the one.
So Sam put his palms to the ground and pushed off from his crouch, trying to conceal his wobbliness as he came to a stand. His joints were sore from his previous position, but he didn't let that stop him from turning to face the double doors and move towards them. There was a ringing in his ears and his body felt unusually feather-light, but he was relentless in his stride. His first steps were clumsy and sluggish, as if trudging through sand in a trance, but the faster his mind registered that they were seconds away from leaving, the quicker he moved.
"Stop," he said, his voice nearly inaudible even in the still silence of the room. He could feel a few people's eyes on him, probably wondering who this idiot was and what the hell he was doing, but none of that mattered.
All that mattered was Maya.
The robber was still making his way towards the exit, his eyes roving over the cowering masses that reached the far back of the room. It was insulting that he didn't notice Sam standing amongst the sea of seats, trying to make his way towards them, but that also meant going a few more seconds without getting shot and that had to count for something.
Five, four, three…
They were right there, two steps away from the doors. Sam was two steps away from losing her. If he let her out of his sight now, he would probably never see her again. He would lose her completely.
"STOP!"
Now Sam had shouted.
Everyone looked at him, Maya and the robber included. But Sam's sole focus was on her, at her now disheveled hair and wrinkled clothes; her white knuckles clutching the bag of money because her life depended on it; and the desperation, confusion and outright fear swirling in her bright brown eyes. He wished she didn't have to look like that, that it shouldn't have been her, and he fleetingly wondered what she was thinking in that moment.
Was she praying to a god she believed in that her life would be miraculously spared? That this man before her could be enough to save her? Or had she come to terms with her death and hoped it would just be quick and painless?
Switching his gaze to the robber, Sam took one look at his eyes and instantly clenched his fists as his sides. Though half his face may have been concealed, his amusement at Sam's actions were clear as day. He may have even been trying to hold back laughter as his mouth quirked up at the corner, a smug smirk appearing on his face as though he knew something Sam didn't.
God, Sam hated him with everything he had. He didn't even realize he was shaking with anger because that's just how much he wanted to kill the guy. He was a lowlife. A poor, pitiful lowlife who probably didn't go to school, probably couldn't get a job, and probably made some very bad decisions that landed him where he was today. He would never stop committing crimes, and he would always be on the run, and he would die alone. He may have been smiling now, but a guy like him could never be happy.
Imperceptibly shaking his head once, the robber muttered loud enough for everyone to hear, "Idiot."
And he raised the gun straight out towards Sam and shot him without hesitation.
Blind.
Sam was blinded with pain, falling backwards from the force of the bullet and crashing his head against the tiles.
He knew he wasn't dead.
Death didn't hurt this much because his bones were protesting, and his head was throbbing, and his shoulder hurt so fucking much he couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his face.
Maya started screaming then, and all he could do was clench his teeth at the pain and lay in a pool of his own blood.
Get up! Get up and do something!
He desperately tried to brace his elbows against the floor, but he was still so winded and aching from the fall. He was so frustrated.
He was useless.
Heart pounding, breathing erratic, Sam lifted his head from the ground to look at her. She was only a few feet away, dragging her feet and shouting for help that no one could give.
"Maya!" he called for her, hoping the look on his face was enough to say how sorry he was.
She looked back at him, her wide eyes meeting his and her brown hair billowing around her face. The afternoon sunlight shone behind her as the robber kicked open the doors and was one tug away from bring her out with him onto the street, the bright beams outlining her figure in the universe's sick poetic way of taking her from him.
She was desperate, as good as dead, and still breath-takingly beautiful; she was so out of Sam's league, and she would never be his.
One last pull brought both Maya and the robber out of the bank, and Sam dropped his head back to the floor just as the glass doors closed behind them and her screams started again.
He just laid there, unmoving. People starting calling the police, and crying, and crowding around his bleeding body; but he only stared up at the dirty ceiling as he listened to her helplessly shriek and cry for help. He only closed his eyes as two more gun shots rang outside the building, effectively cutting off her screams.
And he only hoped this was all just a nightmare, especially since he lost the girl of his dreams.
The girl made sure to give the robber a hard time.
She knew he had pulled the safety of the gun, his finger on the trigger, so she was very careful to hold onto the bag of money. The huge canvas bag was her lifeline, and one tiny mistake could mean having her brains blown out.
Although her life was in his hands, that didn't mean she wasn't going to go down without a fight.
She could hardly breathe as his wiry arm tightened around her neck, hard muscle pressing down against her wind pipe as she dug her heels into the gravel. Tears blurred her vision but she could faintly make out where he was taking her, dragging her struggling body around the corner of the bank, in between two buildings to lead her into the back where he would shoot her.
Where he would take the money and kill her.
As they squeezed through the tight passage between the adjacent store and the bank, literally kicking and screaming in his hold, she was pretty sure that this was it. No one could save her and no one would come to help.
She was so tired from fighting, feet bruised and muscles strained, that she was so tempted to give up.
So she did.
She dropped the canvas bag just as they rounded the corner into the back wall, gunshots were fired, and her screams seized instantly just as a pair of lips came down on her own.
At first she was taken off guard, eyes wide as the robber drew her closer by the waist and pressed them both against the wall. But she didn't hesitate to respond just as eagerly as she threw her arms around his neck and slightly tilted her head, exploring his mouth and tugging on his hair to pull him even impossibly closer.
They kissed for what seemed like hours, rough and desperate as if they hadn't just been together that morning. It was all lips and teeth and tongue as the man peppered kisses on her face and down her neck; caressing her body so lovingly and longingly, and apologizing through his actions for putting her through that.
He pulled back first, both of them breathing raggedly as his dark eyes stared into hers. As if in a trance, she reached up with one hand to untie the straps of his mask, carelessly dropping the black disguise to the ground without breaking eye contact. She wanted to just continue on kissing him, standing on her tiptoes to be able to reach him, but he only pressed his forehead against hers and kept his lips mere centimeters from her own.
"Are you okay?" he asked her, his breath fanning her face. His face was in its usual stoic expression, but she could read the concern in his eyes. Just like how she could read his every emotion and thought with a single glance.
"I'm fine. More than fine – I'm perfect," she responded, pressing her lips against his jaw. "Fang, we're officially twenty-five thousand dollars richer," she whispered, and he could feel her smile against his skin.
Although Fang just wanted to hold her, he drew back just enough to smile. Not the arrogant smirk he flashed for the girls he grifted from, but a genuine smile reserved just for his girlfriend.
"I'm just happy you're okay, Max."
Retracting one arm from around his neck, she caressed the side of his face. God, she loved him.
"And you?" she redirected his earlier question.
That was the thing about Max and Fang – after every scam or every heist; even if they both came out looking unscathed; they would always ask one another if they were okay, if they were fine and unharmed.
He nodded once before kissing her lightly on the lips, tightening his hold on her waist. "Yeah; wish I could say the same for that guy though. Who was that loser?" Fang scoffed, thinking back to the pretty boy who'd tried to act like some martyr.
Max laughed at that, reminiscing the guy's ridiculously obvious attempts at flirting. "I don't know. Some guy named Zach or something. Why, jealous?" she raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back a smile.
Fang laughed at that preposterous thought before stepping away from her to pick up his mask. "You wish I were. C'mon, we should go before the police show up."
Max complied and picked up the bag of money, and together they ran hand in hand to get to their awaiting car on the other side of the block. They both moved fast and nimbly, fitting into the small hole they'd made on the chain link fence two days prior and cutting between another set of store buildings that led out onto the opposite street. Once in the public eye, they acted like any other normal couple taking a walk during their lunch break, their sprint evolving into a casual stride to get into their nondescript SUV.
"You think the cops finally arrived?" Max asked once she was in the passenger seat, taking off her blazer and throwing it into the back along with their money.
He shrugged, watching Max through his peripheral as she removed the brunette wig as well, her natural blond hair spilling out and tumbling down her shoulders. "Knowing those guys, it'll probably take them another five minutes."
They weren't even a few seconds on the road before Max started again.
"Hey Fang," Max adjusted in her seat to face him better, kicking off her heels and putting her feet up on the seat. "Why didn't you kill that guy? The idiot who came forward?"
He chuckled to himself, thinking of the look on the loser's face when he had taken Max with him – the anger, the sadness, the longing. Pathetic. "I figured he was sorry enough he didn't get the girl, Maya." He then completely faced her as they cruised along the boardwalk, driving single-handedly. "You're really never going to let me live that down, are you?" he said, referring to his ex-girlfriend that Max always made fun of.
"Never." Max smirked. "But, I'll make it up to you. I was thinking we should get a hotel room tonight." She winked conspiratorially, and suddenly Fang couldn't wait till the evening.
"But hey, you were brilliant out there," he brought up, thinking her acting must've been Oscar-worthy if she'd gotten someone infatuated enough to sacrifice his life for her.
Then again he'd probably do the same for her. Pondering on this, he reached out for her hand and intertwined their fingers.
"Thanks," she said, her brown eyes shining with satisfaction. "Y'know I was thinking we should really get into the acting industry. I mean, we're already on the news – or as they like to call us 'the modern day Bonnie and Clyde'," she rolled her eyes, making air quotes. "But Fang, just imagine us on the big screen!"
"You've got to be kidding me."
"C'mon, Fang! I'm thinking we should head to California." Her voice held newfound enthusiasm, completely ecstatic at some brilliant idea as she squeezed his hand.
"To fulfill your life-long dream of being the next Katharine Hepburn?" he drawled sarcastically.
"No, stupid. Bigger banks to rob."
He looked at her again, both in awestruck and amusement. He wanted to kiss her. "You're ruthless."
"But you love me!" Max smiled cheekily at him.
He did.
Seven Dead, One Man Injured in Bank Robbery; Police Suspect Connection to Other Incidences
A young man kills five bankers and two women in a robbery at an American Union Bank branch in Forbes. Eye witnesses say the robber, dressed in black and disguised by a mask, jumped onto the counter and immediately shot the bankers upon entrance. Shelley Fargaux, 34; Vincent Colt, 29; Brad Thompson, 37; Greg Vaughn, 40; and Courtney Dillinger, 31 were all shot in the head and died instantly. "The robber even killed the alarms – shot right through the wood and everything," police say. Maggie Kelly, 36, was also shot and killed for attempting to call the police.
"He made a girl go into the back and pack the money into a bag," says an eye witness. The second woman killed, only identified by her first name 'Maya' was chosen by the robber and commanded to do his bidding, right before he forced her at gun point and brought her out of the bank with him. She was reportedly killed after witnesses heard two more shots outside of the bank, but police were unable to find a body.
Samuel Walters, 26, who was shot in the shoulder after attempting to stand up to the robber, was able to identify and describe the woman to the police. "I just met Maya that day, actually; but I couldn't stand to let him get away," says Walters. "I hope the police catch that bastard soon. People like him deserve to rot in prison."
"With all the reserves completely wiped out, the security cameras destroyed, and the robbery lasting no more than 5 minutes; we have nothing but vague descriptions to aid us in identifying the thief. Rest assured though, we'll catch him eventually," says Chief of Police, Andy Summit.
Police are unsure if this robbery is related to the last 8 robberies in the neighboring cities and states in the past 3 months. Five out of the eight incidences included an accomplice, but the robbers in each incident have different disguises; and no two situations were similar in nature. The prevalence in robberies has the public worried, but authorities state that they have the situation under control.
fin.
This is a black market reformation, how does it feel
to be under the gun?
Last ones to laugh pull the trigger here on the run
You can hide the money, I'll mark an X
I am above the law and you're the order
You make everything make sense
Without Wax,
.: Tiffany :.