airing: Laura/Starbuck
A/N: Just a little something that worked up in my head when I was bored. I don't know if it's any good, but I hope you enjoy it. Hm... and there's not really much angst; it's very minimal.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
–
Months before the attacks:
She's sitting across the bar, her eyes a type of green that not even the gods are familiar with. And she has a smile that's shining so brightly that you actually catch yourself smiling. Her hair is a deep red that glows when the candlelight hits it, and it flows flawlessly as she turns her head back and forth between the two men she's with. She's beautiful—completely out of place in this bar; but she still seems so at ease. She drinks and talks to the guys that practically line up for her, their attention all hers, but they aren't given the same. Not only must they share her attention with one another, but also with you.
Every now and then her eyes flicker your way and catch you looking at her. You aren't ashamed. Frak, if you want to look at someone, then you'll do just that. So as you sip your ambrosia, you watch her; watch as she twirls her drink around, flipping her hair and flashing the most radiant smile you've ever seen. She's flirting. But after a while you notice it's not any of the guys she's flirting with. The thought is almost laughable. You wonder why someone like her would even take a second look at you, but that doesn't keep you from raising a glass to her the next time she catches your eyes. And, you aren't surprised by the twinkle in her eyes as she slowly winks at you, lifting her glass to her lips and drinking slowly.
You then turn away from her, your eyes falling down to the green liquid in your glass. Quickly, you finish the drink and then stand, digging in you pocket for enough cubits to cover your tab. You dare one more glance her way and you see she's looking at you. Her green eyes are dancing over your body, looking at you as if you're some type of art exhibit that she's trying to understand. You've seen the look before; all the straight women have that look in their eyes right before they realize that perhaps they aren't so straight after all. It's that look that makes you turn away smugly, knowing that if she's really interested she'll follow you out of the bar and into the dark Caprican city night. You pull your black motorcycle jacket on, the one with the paint splatters on it, and then you hear the sound of heels clicking on the concrete, a beat only a confident woman can make as she walks. You know it's her. That knowledge makes your body tingle with want before you even turn around and see her.
She's looking at you, her eyes expressive, but the rest of her is blank and for a quick moment you're unsure of yourself. But she's obviously standing there for a reason, and that reason has something to do with you. You look in her eyes, your brown eyes twinkling, a mischievous glint in them. She raises an eyebrow in response and you give her a half-smile-half, smirk as you look over her. A simple black wrap dress is tied around her body, hugging her hips and dipping into a 'v' at her cleavage. Her legs are slender and bare, and you realize she's hotter up close and personal.
She clears her throat and your eyes are back on hers, emerald and cinnamon colored eyes staring into each other.
"You were watching me," she tells you. She has a way of accusing you, questioning you, and being down right sexy with one sentence.
"So were you," you respond.
She purses her lips for a moment, her brow furrowing, and then she smiles, the corner of her lips curving up. "I'm Laura," she tells you, her eyes warm and inviting.
"Kara," you tell her, sticking to short responses. You pull out a set of car keys, spinning them around your finger by the ring. She's giving you that look, hunger and desire mixed with uncertainty, well, as uncertain as she could look with the other feelings clearly there. You look at her and then across the street at you truck and she follows your eyes. "Let me give you a ride," you tell her vacantly because she's already walking towards it.
Her hips sway as she walks and you shamelessly follow them, knowing she knows you're watching her. You unlock the door and throw the things into the back, making room for her to sit. "Where are we going?" she asks as she closes the door, turning her head to you slowly.
You tuck your short blonde hair behind your ear and smile at her. "Wherever your heart desires," you say happily.
You start the car and look at her with a raised eyebrow, silently asking her where she wants to go. She bites her lip, her green eyes sparkling with something. She leans over and brings her lips to your ear, her hot breath tickling it. You want so badly to turn around, grab her face and pull those soft looking lips to yours. But you don't. Instead, you grip the steering wheel tightly and bite down on your lip so hard that you're afraid you may break the skin.
"Take me back to your place," she purrs in your ear. Frak, if it was up to you, you'd take her right here in the front seat, but you know she's worth more than what you give the other women and men you frak. So you take a deep breath, grinning like you just won the lottery, and drive to your apartment.
You unlock the door, letting her in first and following her. You turn the switch on, but then remember you haven't paid the light bill. She looks at you like she understands. You shrug. "Watch the steps," you tell her as you go down them.
"Nice place you have here," she says.
You actually laugh at her, a deep, throaty laugh. "You don't have to lie to me and tell me that," you tell her as you pull out a lighter and start lighting candles. "The apartment is a dump, half the crap in it is broken, and my frakkin' lights don't even work. I don't care about any of that, and I didn't bring you here so you could make it seem any better than it is." You throw your jacket on the sofa and go into the kitchen.
"Oh," you hear her say simply and then you hear her walking, moving closer to the kitchen. "So what did you bring me here for then?" You feel her ask it more than you hear it, and you realize she's behind you.
You turn around with two shot glasses in your hand, both filled to the brim with gold liquor. You take your shot, throwing the alcohol back, enjoying the burn as it slides down your throat. You move closer to her, your lips mere millimeters from hers. "To frak," you answer hotly against her lips and she moans slightly. That sound, begging and needy, coming from this woman is enough to drive you insane.
You close the space between you two, attaching your lips to hers. She's unresponsive at first, holding back as you hungrily attack her mouth. But then you feel her hands on your waist, rubbing teasing circles on the exposed hot skin. You blindly put the shot glass down behind you and bring your hands to that fire-red hair that looks even better up close. Her hair is silky and soft and it slides right through your fingers as you kiss her. Her lips are soft but demanding, pushing against yours, giving as good as she's getting. Her tongue is velvety, sliding against your bottom lip, across your teeth, and then finally against the roof of your mouth and your own tongue. She tastes sweet, fruity like a cocktail, and you moan in her mouth with every taste.
You pull away from the kiss, needing more, needing to fell all of her, taste her on your tongue, hear her moan with pleasure. You kiss your way down to her neck and she lifts her head, offering herself to you as she sighs and hisses softly. Her skin is hot and salty, leaving behind a delicious taste on your lips and tongue as you tease all her senses. You bring your hands down to her thighs, sliding them up her dress as you begin to suck against her pulse point.
"Gods," she murmurs, pulling you closer to her as her breath starts to get shaky, coming out as delicate pants.
You kiss and lick your way down her chest, down to the valley between her breasts as your fingers dance against her thighs. You slide your hand up further and you moan against her skin as you feel the damp lace covering her center. "You're so frakking wet," you moan out hungrily, nibbling on both her breasts.
"Ooh," she draws out in a deep moan as your finders trace her wet folds through her panties. Her hips buck and you grin widely, looking up at her as you pull her dress and bra to the side and begin licking the slightly freckled skin.
Her eyes flutter as you cover her nipple with your mouth, the flat of your tongue teasing it until it's erect. Her hands grab at your shirt, pulling on it as you cup her hot center. She trembles in your arms and groans, tightening her grasp on your shirt. You push your fingers, hard, against her, her nub throbbing as you roll two fingers against it.
"Please," you hear her whimper as she rolls her hips counter to your hand.
You push hard and suck more furiously on her nipple. "Please what?" you ask her, kissing and nipping your way to her other breast.
She rocks her hips, holding on to you with all her might. She's breathing heavily, panting down on you as her legs wobble and tremble. "Please," she repeats, her head thrown back and her chest pushed further into your mouth. "I-I-I want," she moans, thrusting her hips. "Frak me, Kara."
You moan around her nipple one last time before you bite it, pulling away from her. "In the bed," you tell her, removing your hands from between her legs. You step back and she grabs tighter, not ready to depend on her shaky legs. "Take off your heels," you say, and she does. You take her hand and lead her to the bed.
She sits on the edge and you stand in front of her, looking down at her as she looks up at you. She's beautiful, breathtaking, and yours for the night. It hardly feels right, this woman who could have anyone she wanted, who had men lining up for her, is here in your bed. You stroke her face and straddle her. "You're so frakkin' beautiful," you whisper, only half-way realizing you're saying it out loud. "Of all the people in that bar," you say, "you went and picked the most frakked up person there."
"I don't care about any of that," she tells you. And somehow that's all you need to hear. You can temporarily push away all the pain you're feeling, stop feeling bad that you're using sex to get over your dead fiancé; and all you care about doing is frakking this woman that's rubbing her hands up your stomach.
You lean down, capturing her lips in a slow, sensual kiss. It's never like this with anyone you've been with recently. The way she's slowly tracing your spine is so different from the scratches you're used to feeling. Her lips are soft, gliding against yours in a way that you're not used to. It's all sparking things inside you that you haven't felt in years. You push her back, her red hair fanning out against your white sheets.
You sit up and look at her, your eyes on her as you settle yourself on your knees between her open thighs. You pull the belt of her wrap dress, revealing her lithe body in her lace lingerie. She looks so frakking delicious and you can barely wait to taste every inch of her. You trail your palms up her thighs, her stomach, stopping when you're cupping her breasts in your palms. You knead the tender flesh, watching her green eyes burn dark as you caress her breasts through the fabric. You lower your head and place butterfly kisses against her heaving stomach. You lick and nibble at her ribs, removing your hand from her left breast and bringing your mouth there.
You suck on the nipple through the lace fabric, your tongue pushing against it as she writhes under you. You smirk as you look up at her. You know she wants you, wants you to give her a good frak, and that's exactly what you plan to do. You kiss your way down her torso, your hands sliding down her sides as you make your way down to her panties. The sharp scent sends a rush of arousal to your own core and you groan appreciatively. You kiss her bundle of nerves through the thin and wet material of her panties.
She quivers, her body humming its pleasure as you do it again, drawing the nub and lace into your mouth, moaning. "Gods, you taste so frakking good," you murmur against her as you suck greedily.
"Mmm," she moans, the sound only a goddess can make. Her hips buck and you know she's ready. You sit up and slide her panties off of her incredibly slow, throwing the wet lace across the room. You push her legs open widely; her glistening folds are wet from her arousal. She looks at you, really looks, and you feel your insides melting because of the intense and lustful look she has in her eyes. She reaches up and pulls you by your shirt, making you hover above her on your hands and knees. "Take this off. I want to see you," she says, pulling at your shirt.
You sit up and eagerly pull the shirt off, throwing it to the floor and you pull off your sports bra as well. You lower yourself back down, your fit body sliding over her delicate curves. Your breasts push against hers, your nipples tightening with the contact. Her skin feels good against yours, hot flesh molding with your own as you lower your head and capture her bottom lip between your lips. She gasps, opening her mouth, and you take the opportunity to slide and push your tongue against hers as you both fight a battle for dominance. Maybe if you weren't so full of yourself you'd give it to her. But you're Kara and you have something to prove. So you take her hands, pinning them above her head and push down, assaulting her mouth until she's moaning and gasping, turning into a trembling puddle of arousal beneath you.
You take both wrists in one hand and slide the other between your bodies. When your fingers find her wet center she moans deeply in your mouth. You trace her entrance with one finger and she bucks her hips, seeking more from your teasing finger. She rips her mouth from yours, letting out a needy whimper that makes your core wet. You give in to her, pushing your finger into her. She's wet and hot and surprisingly very tight around your finger. You move your mouth down to her neck and slowly lick her hot skin as your finger pushes back and forth into her liquid heat. You suck on the column of her neck, gently pulling the sweaty flesh into your mouth, being careful with her like she might break if you aren't.
"More," is the faintest whisper you've ever heard. She gets one of her hands free and puts it over yours, telling you what you she wants. You're more than happy to comply, quickly adding a second finger. Her walls stretch, swallowing you into the pool of arousal. "Oh, gods," she whispers, grabbing onto your back.
"You like that, huh?" you whisper into her ear, scissoring your fingers inside her. She thrusts her hips and you can feel her gush as you start to lick her ear. She groans when you pull the ear into your mouth, your teeth and tongue attacking her. She's moaning, groaning, trembling under you and you think her ear might be the center of her arousal, not the nub you're pushing your palm against.
"Ahhh," she moans out, her nails digging into your back. "Bite it," she moans and her hips start to buck. "Please. Oh my gods... Please," she pleads, her breath hot on your shoulder as she pants feverishly. You sink your teeth into her earlobe, biting it as your fingers play inside her center.
You create a rhythm: Bite – Pump – Pump – Swirl – Pump – Bite – Pump... Your palm rubs against her swelling nub the whole time. You moan into her ear when she starts to groan incoherently, her hips rotating widely as her body trembles and quakes beneath you. "You gonna come for me, Laura?" You whisper the words into your ear.
Her nails are sharp in your back as she squeezes tightly. "Keep whispering. Ahhh. Gods... so close," she purrs to you.
You've never been with someone who's turned on so much by things involving their ears, but you're starting to realize how hot it is. "Do you like how my fingers feel in you?" You curve your fingers inside her, hitting the sensitive flesh deep inside her; and with each thrust she whimpers, her legs tightening around your waist. "I bet you taste so frakkin' good," you husk in her ear and pull the lobe into your mouth. She scratches into your back, braking skin, murmuring words you don't understand as your fingers and her hips thrash into one another. "Laura, I want you to come for me," you whisper, pushing your palm roughly against her clit. Just let go," you purr and her walls tense around your fingers and she's screaming out to the gods.
"Yes, oh, gods, yes." She squirms under you as you help her ride out her orgasm. Her sweaty body is arched up, her head thrown back and her hands and legs locked around you. She's so frakking gorgeous, hair sweaty, skin flushed and it's all because of you.
When she opens her eyes and looks at you, you see the satisfied look in them and then her lips slowly curl up into a smile. "That was," she moans, "good, really, really good." You smile back at her and roll over, lying beside her on your back. She turns on her side, her fingers tracing your ribs in a way that makes you want to throw her over and frak her all over again. Her hand slides down your toned stomach, turning against the edge of your cargo pants, but you stop her. "What?" she asks, her eyes far too innocent.
"No," you tell her simply, keeping your voice soft. "Come 'ere," you say and pull her so she's straddling you. You pull her mouth to yours and kiss her slowly, letting her really feel you. And, when you slide your fingers back inside her, she doesn't seem to notice you won't let her frak you. Instead, she comes again, and this time it's her whispering, and your name dripping like honey from her lips.
One week later:
You're in the alley by some of the official buildings with your hand down some girl's pants when you see her again. You're not entirely sure if it's her because your mind's been playing tricks on you and you've seen her everywhere. But when she stands there for a moment too long and stares at you, you're filled with the same feelings you had when she fell asleep in your arms, murmuring words to you. Then she's gone and you're left with the mousy blonde in front of you that doesn't even begin to compare to the woman walking away. You pull your hand free, wiping it on the inside of her shirt, ignoring her protests. Then you're running after the other woman. It's ridiculous; you barely know her, but you know something's different about her. Ever since you decided to bring her back to your apartment – something you never do – you could tell she wasn't like the rest, and that's why for the first time since Zak died, you allowed someone to actually sleep with you.
You catch up to her, putting your hand on her shoulder to stop her and she turns to face you. "Hey," you say and drop your hand when she looks at it with disgust.
"Hello, Kara." Her tone is icy cold, do different from the other night. She peers at you through her glasses, something you're sure she picked up when she was a schoolteacher. "Is there something you wanted?" Again, her voice is not the one you're oddly used to after one night, but you don't let that stop you.
"You wanna get a drink or something?" you ask her because you want to get off the street, and you want to get that look out of her eyes when she looks at you.
She laughs darkly and it sends a chill down your spine. "Weren't you just with someone?"
Your eyes automatically dart towards the dark street that leads to the darker alley. "I'm finished with her," you say and hear her make an odd sound and you realize you should have phrased that differently.
"I'm not interested in being the next toy you play with," she says and she sounds just as hurt as you're starting to feel.
"I asked if you wanted a drink, that's all. One drink," you smile at her, already knowing she likes your smile – one of many things she told you before falling asleep.
She looks at you thoughtfully and then she slides her hands into her pockets. "We can get something to eat, but I don't want to go to a bar."
And that's how you end up sitting across from her in a booth at some hamburger place. It's not a place you'd think she would come to, but you find out she actually eats at the place more than her body suggests. You both order burgers and she gets hers with bacon. She gets an order of fries, but you end up sharing it as you sit in silence. She's looking at you, her eyes questioning, but you aren't sure what it is that she wants.
You clear your throat and put your elbows on the table. "How have you been?"
She rolls her eyes slowly and then looks straight at you."Not as good as you've been," she says, "I'm sure."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She shrugs her shoulders and sits back. "I've been working all week, so I'm sure whatever you've done is much more fascinating. I know at least your evening today has been far more," she pauses, "satisfying than my entire week."
You nod your head, reaching for a fry, ignoring the slight hurt that you feel. It's irrational for you to feel this way. You don't even know what she's said that's hurt you, but you suddenly feel like you're being punished for something you've done. So you accept your punishment because that's all you really know.
She must have noticed the difference in your mood because she stands up and sits on your side of the booth. She takes your hand and cautiously strokes it. You look up at her and she gives you a small smile. "You should have called me," she tells you, absently tracing the lines on your palm. "When a woman gives you their number after frakking most of the night it usually means she wants you to call her."
You smile and cover her hand with your other. "I'd tell you I forgot, or I lost your number, but those are both lies. Like I said, I'm a frak..."
She shuts you up, kissing you hungrily. You let out a surprised gasps and you feel her lips curve against yours. She pulls away when you try to deepen the kiss and you're quickly missing the feeling of her lips on yours. "I don't care why you didn't, but this is the only get out of jail free card you're getting"
"I doubt it," you murmur and she smiles.
"What makes you think I'll give you another?" she asks as she starts to run her fingers through your blonde hair.
"Because you think I'm adorable." You peck her lips. "And you like it when I kiss you." You peck her lips again and she sighs. You move to her ear. "And you like the way I whisper in your ear."
She moans and pulls away, a slight blush on her cheeks and it's the most attractive thing you've ever seen. "Okay, so maybe I'll give you a few more, but you better make it worth my while."
You grin. "Challenge accepted." You lean in and kiss her again, playfully nipping her bottom lip as she moves impossibly close. She's moaning in your mouth and she's almost in your lap. You feel like she's about to frak you right there on the booth seat. And, even though you just might explode, you pull away from her. She blushes further and you can't believe how she can make you smile so brightly by doing something so simple.
"Come to my house," she tells you and doesn't wait for a response. But it's not like you would've told her no if it was a question. She walks away and you drop some cubits on the table and rush after her. You get in her car and drives the two of you two a house much bigger than any you've ever stepped foot in. And then you remember when she said you had a nice place and it seems like even more of a lie than it did before, but you don't really care about that.
She parks the car and grabs her bag out of the back seat and you follow her to the door. As soon as you're inside you feel her pushing you towards the sofa, pulling your shirt off right before you fall onto it. The house is dark, barely any light coming from the street lamp, but her eyes still glow. She's looking at you, a level of concentration that seems unnecessary, but you know she's determined. She's trying to get what she was denied the last time.
She slides her hands down to your belt, unbuckling it as she stares into your eyes. You reach for her hand to stop her, but she doesn't stop. "Just let me," she purrs, her fingers already working at your button and zipper. You're so ready to frak her. You're wet and throbbing inside your underwear, but you haven't let anyone frak you since Zak. It's always you doing the work, and you don't think you're ready to let her. You feel a hot tear roll down your cheek and you feel like a frakking idiot because you realize you're crying. She stops and kneels down on the floor beside you, wiping away the tears. "What did I do?"
Her voice is soft, soothing and you hate yourself for seeming so fragile. But you can't stop that you want her to stay there and whisper soft words to you. You look away from her, looking past her, back at the door, anywhere but at her.
"You want me to take you home?"
If anyone else in this situation had asked you that, you may have took it another way. You would've told them to go frak themselves because you don't need their pity. Or maybe you would've took the ride. But that's not the case here. She's not someone else; she's Laura. So you shake your head no and look at her. "Can I stay with you?" you ask her and you sound vulnerable, and perhaps you are, but it's not a side you normally show people.
She smiles sadly and nods. "Come on," she tells you, holding her hand out as she stands. You take her hand and let her lead you to a bedroom where she sits you on the bed. "Would you like something to sleep in?" she asks as she walks to the other side of the room. "Maybe some shorts and a shirt," she suggests.
"Just shorts," you tell her and watch as she bends at the waist and retrieves a pair of shorts from the bottom drawer. She brings them to you and she offers you one of those rare, but radiant smiles, and once again you're smiling because of it. "You have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen," you tell her and her smile deepens, her eyes crinkling. She moves closer to you and puts her hand to your face and looks at you like she knows all your secrets. She lowers her head and kisses atop your forehead. You pull her to you and she gasps at the force as you both fall onto the bed.
You take her hand and slide it to your stomach, letting it rest there and then you look at her. She looks down at her hand and back at you. "You sure?" she whispers, her eyes soft and caring.
You nod your head. "Please," you whisper back, and you're finally ready.
After the attacks:
The President of the Twelve Colonies is a title that you'll have to get used to. You have no doubt you'll be able to "be the president" - whatever that might mean – but it doesn't seem to fit. Dying woman with breast cancer seems right. Or perhaps, coward who falls in love with a woman then pushes her away when it seems like she might be feeling the same way. Either of those two would fit, but as you hold your hand up, it's to be the president that they're swearing you in for. And, it's the title you must take, regardless of what other things are going on in your life.
It's not until later you realize how much harder it's going to be to be the president. You see her, blonde hair a little shorter than it was when you saw her last and those brown eyes that you would get lost in- no, not would, because you're lost in them right now as you see her for the first time in two months. "Kara," you whisper to yourself, but you know the viper pilot has read your lips. She smiles at you, one of those slow smiles that makes your heart jump out of your chest and you aren't surprised when it does just that. President of the Twelve Colonies, you remind yourself, but it's pointless because you feel like a lovesick teenager.
You look away from her and as painful as it might, you know it's necessary. But she stays on your mind. You find yourself wondering if she still thinks about you, if she ever picks up the phone to call you and then hangs up, or wonders what could have been. Because you do all of those things. You know it was wrong for you to ignore her phone calls when you felt like you couldn't do it anymore, but you couldn't bring yourself to talk to her. She'd given you so much, let you in and told you about her mom, her dead fiancé and all the frak up things she's done. But you couldn't even tell her what kept you up at night.
You know on some levels she knows. She knew that your mom died of breast cancer and that there was a high risk that you'd get it like 80% of the women in your family did. She knew how paranoid you were – so she must have known you were terrified that you'd get it. So when she first felt a lump and told you, you just couldn't anymore. You realized you weren't afraid of getting breast cancer, but you were afraid of getting it and then dying, leaving her behind. So you did the only thing you could do to stop that from happening, but now you see the fault in your logic.
You see her again later; you've managed to get time by yourself – something you realize you won't get much of – and she's about to open a hatch. "Lieutenant Thrace," you call out, loving the way it sounds when it falls from your mouth.
"Madame President," she says cheekily. Same old Kara. You stick your hands in your pockets and she notices, which means she knows you're nervous. You remove them and go to speak, but she holds her hand to stop you. She opens the hatch and waves her hand towards the room, gesturing you to go in first; and you do. She closes the hatch and turns to you, smiling as her eyes look over you. "You look good," she tells you, and you want to tell her you don't, but you stay quiet. "Who would've known the next time we'd see each other you would become some big shot and I'd still be training nuggets in this very room."
She smiles and it makes your heart flutter like all those other times. "Don't forget it's practically the end of the world," you add in lightly.
She laughs, nodding. "Yeah, let's not forget that." She tucks her blonde hair behind her ear and moves closer to you and you quickly suck in as much air as you can.
"I wanted to call you," you hear yourself whisper.
"But you didn't," she says regretfully. "Weren't you the one that said something about giving numbers and making sure you called?" You say nothing, just stand there, staring at her as you try to figure out what she's thinking. "But I could have called."
She moves closer to you and you feel like your body is going to burn. She brings her hand to your face, cupping your cheek and your eyes flutter shut. "Kara," you breathe, on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. And then you feel her lips on yours, and it's the best feeling you've ever felt because you've waited so long to feel complete again.
She kisses her way to your ear and lets her hot breath wash over it. Then you hear and feel her clear her throat. "This is your only get out of jail free card, Madame President," she purrs the same words you once said to her; and you find yourself smiling like an idiot.
"Gods, I love you," you whisper, the words slipping out.
You hear the sharp intake of breath and then she's looking at you. Her eyes are glassy, un-shed tears in them, and you know that your tears are actually falling. "Don't tell me things you don't mean, Laura."
You shake your head and pull her to you. "Stop being such an idiot and kiss me."
She places her lips against yours, letting them rest there. "Love you, too," she whispers. And that's all you need to hear. You'll worry about how to tell her about the cancer later. And you'll figure out how to save the 50,298 people that are still living some other time. But right now all that matters is kissing the woman you love because you know your time is limited.
The End.