Midnight. That's exactly what the clock read as the steam finally settled in her cup of tea, the mug beaming dark red as she stared out her bedroom window. The sky was painted with a myriad of faded stars and a clouded over moon, one that was nearing its fourth consecutive lunar eclipse said the news earlier that evening. Emma didn't know much about astronomy - only what she'd heard recently about such phenomena actually - but those with a more extensive knowledge were predicting a 'blood moon' in the coming weeks. Oh, what a sweet sound of irony that phrase brought to her ears.
She shifted in her seat next to the bay window, pulling the too large thick coat tighter around her shoulders. Its warmth matched that of the blanket marvelously, the black fabric contrasting with the deep red quilt in a tribute to the color that had been filling her mind all day. Well, that hue and the chaotic blue color she'd seen in a familiar pair of eyes. She wondered what shade they'd be if he was there now.
A shiver shook her body as she lifted her hand to the slightly sore place on her neck, the expanse of skin marked by the owner of that cobalt stare. The flaws were faint, two identical indents piercing the space just below her ear. She'd run her touch over them several times since it had happened, usually during one of those multiple moments where she wished she had reacted differently. She'd had plenty of regretful thoughts since he'd vanished into the dark night only days ago. A sigh left her lips and she winced for more reasons than one.
It had been two days - well, more like two nights since she'd seen him. The realization was a cold and empty one that prompted her to toy with the collar of the black coat currently keeping her warm. God, that damn jacket even smelled like him. Of course, that was probably the reason she'd pulled it on when darkness fell. It was a poor substitute for his faithful company though and yes, it probably wasn't wise, but she wanted to see him - deadly as the decision to do so might be.
Emma couldn't remember how everything had happened, the way her life had become so quickly intertwined with his much more complicated one. She wasn't sure during which particular instance she had allowed herself to be so okay with him - with who he was and more so with what he was. Every moment since she'd woken up to his startling blue eyes had been unbelievable, but it was true - he was a man who wasn't supposed to be real, but somehow and rather supernaturally was.
She remembered meeting him - well, vaguely. She'd been closing in on a particularly difficult case, one that had finally landed her in a foot race down a dark alley between side streets. Her breath was heavy in the cool night air and she had taken a corner around a brick wall too fast, meeting the cobblestones of the sidewalk with a smacking thud. Groaning, she remembered trying to lift herself with weakened arms to no avail. One of them was surely broken and she winced in pain, her throbbing and definitely wounded head dizzy with defeat as she wondered briefly how she would ever get out of such a secluded area before bleeding out. Reality flickered in her eyes several times, her life swaying between conscious and not when she heard the voice.
Lass? Lass, are you okay?
The words were smooth and comforting, a rough accent riding them as she tried to keep her eyes open. Fading fast, she opened her mouth with a slight gasp as she made out the feel of two strong hands lifting her and whispered reassurances she could almost swear she was imagining.
Stay with me, love. I've got you. Just stay with me.
She listened - though she wasn't exactly sure if she had any control over the fact that she hadn't died. No, that fortune conclusion was due to the place she ended up the next day and the man who'd clearly taken her there.
The blackness she'd encountered after the little slip up was ripped away some hours later by beeping machines and the sliver of morning light through a small window. She blinked rapidly, glancing down at the IV in her arm before raising her hand to the sutures along her wrist. Her mind throbbed with the broken memory of the night before and she tried to reassemble the pieces as she stared up at the ceiling tiles.
She knew she'd fallen. She knew she'd been hurt - and more than just a scratch or two if the hospital room was any indication. She squinted her vision a moment as she tried to recall how she'd ended up in such a place. It didn't take too long to summon the image of a pair of steel, icy blue eyes.
There had been a man - a handsome hero or vigilante or something - but he'd saved her somehow. The cliched storybooks would have called him a 'knight in shining armor' or some other overzealous term, but Emma had a feeling that he was more….and maybe even a little different than that. She felt far too decent for somebody who'd recently met the cold hard ground face first. Her eyes followed the sparse scratches on her skin, studying the minor wounds on the arm she knew she'd broken - but it wasn't. The bone was solid, no pain or injury marring it. She was clinging to what were some poorly conceived questions when the door opened softly.
"You're awake."
The obvious was stated from the exposed doorway, the light of the buzzing hallway illuminating a frame of who Emma assumed to be the doctor. She straightened and sat up fully as the door clicked behind him and he moved into view. His lab coat was pristine white, a brilliant lack of blemish that matched the perfect set of teeth currently in view while he smiled kindly. He had jet black hair and a walk that was nothing less than a swagger as he gripped a clipboard. A few rapid blinks told Emma that she wasn't imagining him. She toyed with the hem of the blanket as she tried to decide if that was good or bad.
"Emma Swan, right?"
"Uh, yeah," she confirmed, shaking some sense into her muddled mind. "How you know my name?"
"Call it a doctor's intuition," he teased, waggling his eyebrows before he pointed to her wallet on the bedside table. "Your driver's license was in there. I hope you'll forgive the invasion of privacy."
"Oh….yeah, it's….not a big deal," she adjusted her position in the suddenly uncomfortable bed. "Am I okay? I mean….am I good to go home?"
"Ah, eager to leave I see," he laughed, scribbling on the forms on the clipboard. "I'd like to check a couple of things before I send you on your way, but afterwards, that should be fine. You made quite the miraculous recovery for someone who fell so hard."
The events of the previous night flashed again in her head as she caught sight of the doctor's blue stare. The details prodded at her until her own gaze went wide with recognition. Was this him? Was this the guy who had rescued her?
"How, uh….how did I get here?"
"You don't remember, lass?"
"No," Emma admitted, biting her lip. "Did you - was it you who….saved me? I remember….a little."
"I don't know if I'd call it 'saved' so much as me merely being in the right place at the right time," he explained, walking to adjust the curtains in the room. "Sorry, did you want these open?"
"No, it's okay," she assured him, her smile weak. "My head, it….still kinda hurts. So I guess I'd kind of like it dark for now if that's okay."
"Aye," he smirked cleverly. "I don't mind in the slightest, love."
It had been quite a quick departure and roughly four days later when she had another run-in with the man who she'd woken up to. She was scouring over aspirin bottles at the twenty four hour drugstore post late evening stakeout. The night's scuffle had ended easier than expected with her client in cuffs and only her cheek slightly bruised. Well, maybe it was cut up a bit too. She smiled with a soft sigh - those were results she could live with.
"Emma?"
Nearly jumping out of her skin, Emma spun on the soles of her shoes to face the questioning voice just behind her. Several bottles tumbled to the ground with a rattle, rolling over the tiles at her feet as her voice ceased to exist. It was him - the mysterious Dr. Blue Eyes from the hospital.
"Oh - umm, hi," she finally said in a startled tone. "What are you doing here?"
"At my local neighborhood pharmacy?"
"Yeah, err….that's not what I meant."
"It's okay, lass," he laughed, scratching at his stubble covered jaw. "The first aid aisle just before midnight does seem like an odd place to run into someone you know….but I needed some band aids oddly enough."
"I see," Emma nodded, her curiosity suddenly flourishing. "This late?"
"Aye," he grinned with those pearly whites. "Injury strikes at odd times, love. I've got a few years of emergency room experience to prove that."
"Hmm, right," Emma mused, reading the label of some extra strength pills. "I guess it's that or you're a vampire."
His posture straightened only slightly, but enough for Emma to notice. She paused her contemplating just in time to watch his eyes darken as he swallowed hard. Her lips parted as she thought of something to say. That devastatingly handsome smirk of his beat her to it.
"I suppose the latter would be a rather unlikely explanation," he said, tilting his head. "I'd love to hear the one for that scratch under your eye though, Swan."
"Oh - that," she flinched as her fingers touched the mark. "I just….work related accident I guess. It's not a big deal though."
"I'd beg to differ," he replied, angling his sight to get a better look. "Difficult perp?"
"Kind of," she shrugged with a smile. "All taken care of now though."
"Again, I don't know about that, love. Care to talk about it?"
"I don't think talking about it will make my head hurt less," Emma commented.
"I suppose that's true," he sighed, setting down the box of bandages he'd intended on purchasing. "But it might make the walk shorter."
"The walk?"
"Aye, my office isn't far from here," he told her, nodding toward the door. "I can't let you wander around at night with an open wound, love. 'Do no harm' and all that."
"Oh - no, it's fine…."
"Emma, no-" he said firmly, reaching for her hand as his eyes went wildly blue. "-it's not."
His touch was icy against her flesh, the contact making her wonder if her body was on fire. She watched his gaze evolve into a sympathetic yet caring sort of stubbornness. It was intriguing. It was alluring - though she was at a loss for the reason why.
"If you're that intent on preserving my well being," she started, raising an eyebrow. "Are you at least going to tell me your name first?"
"It's Killian," he grinned. "Killian Jones."
"Killian," she repeated, enjoying the way the sound rolled off her tongue. "I guess I should say it's nice to meet you?"
"Only if it is," he chuckled. "But on my end, I'd like to say that it's very nice to meet you, Emma Swan. Now - shall we go?"
Something caused her toes to tingle as his perfect smile flashed and his stare lightened. He flipped the collar of his jacket up, the black fabric of his thick winter peacoat making him look the part of dark and dangerous. Maybe that's what he was. Maybe she had to find out for sure.
It was a wonder that she'd followed him so easily - she didn't know much about this man other than the fact that he'd rescued her post minor collision with the concrete. She tried not to question how hypnotized she felt by his presence and by the fact that he seemed so determined to keep her safe. Those realizations were enough for her to acquiesce to the way he gave her his jacket, almost demanding that she take it to ward off the chilly air. He offered her his arm as they approached the curb at the end of the block, chiding her with a comment about her ability to navigate corner crossings. Emma had shot back with a bit of a nasty glare, accompanied by a dramatic turn that nearly landed her in the path of an approaching car.
"Swan, watch out!"
His yell was surprising, but not as much as his impossible speed and dexterity as he grabbed her hand to pull her back to safety. The car passed with a loud honk and Emma allowed herself to ignore it as his heated stare took hold of her. She froze in his embrace, locked in a battle for balance and sanity as he held her close. Time seemed to stand still as the sounds the of the city finally came back into focus and she pried herself from his grip.
"How did you….what….h-how…."
She felt the stuttering words leave her lips, but she couldn't seem to get control of them enough to form a coherent sentence. His shoulders were tense as he stared at the ground and ran an anxious hand through his dark hair. It took longer than she'd anticipated, but he finally glanced back up at her with the most conflicted expression she'd ever seen.
"I want to tell you something," he offered quietly, pulling keys from his pocket and nodding to the building just across the way. "But not here. Will you come inside? I promise I don't b-"
His word faded into the midnight air, the darkness cutting off his little quip before he could finish it. Emma knew what he'd meant to say though and she couldn't fight the urge to complete his playful word.
"Bite? You don't….bite?"
The guilt scribbled all over his features should have banished her questioning words, but she needed to hear it. She needed him to answer her unspoken question - yes, the impossible one that she'd been too skeptical and afraid to ask.
"Not usually," he said softly, taking her hand and pulling her close as they crossed the now deserted street. "Not unless you want me to."
He flipped on the lights to the exam room and moved to scrub his hands before he looked back at her. She didn't miss the shaky breath he took or the way he seemed to study her features like he was deciphering a code. The words that came next were exactly what she expected, but it didn't make them any less shocking to hear.
"You're right, you know," he said, breaking the quiet space between them. "I am."
It wasn't exactly an admission, but she knew what he meant. He was telling her what he was. He was confirming the reality she'd suspected, but never truly believed could be real - well, not until now when it was standing right in front of her.
"But….how?"
"It's a long story I'm afraid," he said with a weak smirk. "One that is probably quite less fathomable than I'd like it to be."
She knew she should run. She knew she should call the police or the tabloids or a psychiatrist who could tell her she'd hit her head harder than she imagined, but she didn't do anything of those things. Instead, she sat - dropping the jacket off her shoulder and tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Well, you said you'd take a look at my battle wounds," she started, giving him a comforting smile. "I guess I wouldn't mind a story while you do so."
"You don't want to go?"
"I guess I….probably should….but no," Emma replied pensively, trying to catch his uneasy gaze. "But if I stay, I need something."
"Okay," he nodded, arching an eyebrow and he rested a hand under her chin. "What can I do for you, Emma?"
"Say it," she almost whispered, turning her head slightly so he could see her bruised eye. "Tell me."
He reached for some cotton, brushing his finger over the injury gently. His flesh was icy, but in a way that contrasted sensually against Emma's flushed face. There was firm and desire filled intent in his touch - the kind that made her want to snap the tension between them with a fiery, desperate kiss. She couldn't do that though - not with what she knew now.
"I'm a vampire."
The words tumbled from his lips, tangled so precisely in his rugged accent. Emma was almost sure she imagined them for a moment as her heart raced and her pulse pounded. She wondered if he could hear it - or if it was driving him absolutely mad in the same way his tender, caressing hand was doing to her.
"How is that….possible?"
"Not a believer then?"
"I didn't say that," Emma answered, flinching as he pressed a little harder on her wound. "I just….you said you'd explain."
"Okay," he agreed, the slight curve of his grin lifting. "Though I've got to warn you that it's not exactly fairytale material, love."
"I guess it's a good thing that I never liked fairytales much anyway."
He seemed to find amusement in her retort, lifting an ice pack to her eye as he set into a detailed recollection. Emma watched him intensely as she took note of his dark expression and the way his eyes went hollow at certain parts of the tale. It didn't take long for her to put the fragments together - even though Killian Jones had a hell of a past.
He wasn't as old as she thought he could be - the typical stereotype of centuries in age when it came to his kind was proven wrong when he told her he was only a couple decades over a hundred. He'd turned post war back in England, a military doctor who'd been wounded fatally but woke up well rested and healed in a hospital without explanation weeks later. It was strangely comforting to know that the man treating her had been mending skin for such a long time, even though he hadn't chosen that line of work with eternity in mind. It had taken him years to adjust, daylight his mortal enemy until he procured the ring he'd been currently wearing around his neck. It was inlaid with a red stone Emma didn't recognize, but whatever 'magic' or power it possessed allowed him out in the sunlight if needed. She smirked to herself as she remembered him saying he preferred the darkness.
"But you don't shimmer or sparkle or whatever," Emma commented, still trying to figure out why her fear was absent. "If I'm not mistaken, you've got a cross hanging on that silver chain of yours too…."
"This also isn't a preteen romance novel, darling," he grinned, adjusting the ice pack as she leaned into it. "If it was, you'd be deeply in love with me by now."
"Hardly," Emma said with narrowed eyes. "Sorry I guess I'm just….fascinated is all. Though you could have easily fooled me - I've never heard of a vampire who wears Converse sneakers and works in the emergency room frequently."
"I'd be happy to continue the Q&A over a drink sometime-" he flirted while quickly adding. "-if you'd be comfortable with that."
"Oh, I….umm…."
"Wait, no - no! That isn't….that's….not what I meant at all," he clarified, waving his free hand in embarrassment. "I meant like a glass of rum or whiskey or something. At a bar - with other people around."
"You don't have to do that, you know," Emma laughed softly. "I'm not….I'm not scared of you."
"I've given you every reason to be."
"Are you saying-" she began, swallowing hard. "-that you're….dangerous?"
"I guess that depends on how you'd define the word," he returned. "But I wouldn't….I don't want to hurt you, Emma."
"Why?"
"I'd venture it's related to me being completely besotted with you," he blushed. "If I may be so bold as to say."
"Right," Emma sighed, fusing her eyes to his. "You don't even know me."
"Yeah," he said softly, lowering the ice to his open palm. "I suppose not."
Emma took a moment to observe the deft manner in which his hands worked as he unrolled a cotton cloth, his long fingers manipulating the material into a carefully folded square. Running it under the nearby faucet, she watched him wet it enough that it would serve the purpose of ridding her skin of the trace of blood that was definitely there. He knitted his eyebrows together and angled his neck as he lifted it to her cheek.
"Wait," she said, a shadow of panic in her tone. "This….doesn't bother you? The blood?"
"Oh - well, no," he smiled, cleaning the cut ever so carefully. "I've had quite a bit of practice with self control in that area, Swan. The doctor thing has played a large part in that."
"I guess it's good to know that you're not tempted," she flinched, the swipe of the cloth on her bruised skin slightly painful.
"Well," he shrugged, fighting a smile. "I never said that."
"Oh," Emma straightened, tilting her head. "So….you are?"
"Perhaps a little," he admitted. "But like I said - self control."
She was walking on thin ice, her feet traversing what was certainly hazardous ground. She shouldn't be asking him such things - what if she was crossing a line? Her inquiry could be the match that might ignite that feral reaction she'd seen from the undead in those horrible horror movies. Alright, maybe not - something told her that Killian Jones wasn't that kind of vampire.
"Is that what you really want though? To be in control?"
"I've found it crucial to my way of life," he responded in a curious manner. "Though I can't say it's always easy."
"Is it easy….right now?"
His eyes flickered from that calm sea blue to a much stormier shade as he lowered his hand. Emma felt a gasp leave her lips as his palm met her thigh and his breath became labored. He was fighting something. She had to know what.
"Why me?"
"I don't know," he replied quietly. "But I find it more difficult with you. It's….harder to keep myself in check."
"What happens if you-" Emma breathed, letting her hand drop down on top of his. "-don't keep that control?"
"People get hurt," he explained, totally mesmerized by her fingertips and the way they met his. "Bad things happen, Emma….and sometimes I can't stop-"
"But you don't want to hurt me, right?"
She wasn't sure when she became quite so bold, but her free hand had moved to his bicep. She squeezed softly before sliding it up, moving her fingers from his strong shoulder up the back of his thick scalp. His hair was long and shaggy enough that she knew she could hold onto it. His eyes fell closed as her nails scratched softly and his relaxed moan met the air.
She'd moved close enough to see the freckles on his skin, the way his jaw clenched hard as she touched him. His eyelashes were dark and long against his cheeks as they shielded that ever changing gaze. His lips had parted, their smooth texture fully visible as his tongue grazed the lower one. Emma was instantly entranced by his mouth - and the fangs that inevitably factored into it weren't even the reason why.
"Emma," he gasped. "You have to-"
"Killian, it's okay-"
"No, it's not," he said suddenly, abruptly pulling back as he appeared to catch his breath. "We have to go."
He set about tidying up the area, tossing the materials he'd used in the garbage and manically throwing things into the nearby drawer. Emma pulled his jacket back around herself as she watched him. He wasn't angry - he was frustrated. The Something told her there was a huge difference in those emotions when it came to this man.
She stood when he moved to the door, a bit of surprise overtaking her when he flipped the lock behind him and headed for the exit without word. She trailed after him as the little bell overhead dinged upon pushing the glass door and her body clenched once it met the cold night air. He was several paces ahead, already crossing the road that was damp with rain. What had just happened?
"Killian! Killian - wait…."
He paused once his feet landed on the sidewalk, almost as if he was a slave to her words. She reached for his arm, prompting him to turn on his heel to face her. His pale skin was nearly white against the backdrop of the alleyway behind him and his eyes were filled with a contention that made Emma's stomach flutter. The blue she found there was burning hot - a tint not unlike that of a flickering flame. Her hand moved automatically to his cheek, her fingers holding his jaw in an effort to calm him.
"Killian-"
She'd barely uttered his name when his hand pressed hard against her back and he descended forward, slamming his lips to hers with a passion that was anything but human. He pulled her body close to his as the kiss deepened and Emma tried to maintain her ability to stand. A soft growl escaped him when she finally parted her mouth, allowing him entrance as he threaded a hand through her long hair.
No, Killian Jones wasn't going to kill her - but his kiss just might.
She never felt her feet move, but the light around them grew faint and the burning heat of her back was suddenly met by a pattern of frigid red bricks. Emma felt them press hard against her shoulder blades as his mouth assaulted hers, his hand guiding her lips to move more firmly on his. She was almost sure she'd found the rhythm he was setting when his hips rutted against hers and she moaned softly, her knees weakening.
"Bloody hell, Emma -"
The accented curse would have made her laugh ironically if by some miracle she'd even been able to think in that moment. The haze clouding her mind was daunting though and she dug her fingernails into his hair, jerking his lips back to hers more roughly than intended. He pinned her hips with his own as she grinded against him, his movements almost animalistic in nature as he pried his mouth from hers. Emma whimpered at the loss, but melted when she felt his lips fused to her neck. Her grip on his hair tightened as he held her flush against him, his tongue tracing the lines of her collarbone and then back up her throat. God, he was going to devour her - and she was helpless in fighting the desire to let him.
"Killian - more…."
Her hands slid down his chest, following the rigid muscles of his abdomen as he groaned. His breath was hot and trembling as he continued his mouth's exploration along her clavicle. Emma felt the surprisingly soft drag of his teeth along the skin of her neck and she shivered at the contact. Something about her reaction seemed to encourage him and he did it again, accompanying his effort with a slight nibble. A surprising sound left Emma's lips and he set back into the hurried, passionate motion of kissing every square inch of her when a sudden, sharp pinch at her neck caused her to flinch in a most startled manner.
"O-ouch," she gasped, biting her swollen lip. "Dammit…."
"Emma? What's wr-"
Killian breathed her name like a man possessed, his eyes full of fiery promise as he paused. She nearly forgot what had caused them to stop when she caught sight of his wrecked hair and half exposed chest. God, he was good looking. She was in the process of counting the ways that could be proven when the small amount of color he usually had drained from his face.
"Oh - whoa, Killian, I'm okay - I just…."
She lifted her hand to the place she'd felt the quick flash of pain, the space just below her ear. Almost sure she had imagined it, she brought her fingers back down as she watched his odd reaction. As the lust left her head and she watched him drift back cautiously, everything clicked into place. She didn't have to look at her fingertips to know what had happened, but the drops of blood she found on them confirmed what was surely his greatest fear.
He'd bitten her. Even worse than that, he hadn't meant to.
"Killian, don't….hey - no. Stop. It's fine."
She brushed her reddened fingers over her jeans as she tried to move toward him. He slunk backward with a wide stare, a horrified expression overtaking him. She saw the guilt paint his features as he ran an anxious hand over his mouth, clearly wanting to rid himself of wearing the blood he might have stolen from her on his lips. Emma felt her voice leave her throat as she tried to figure out what to say.
"Emma, I'm sorry….I just…."
"No - wait ," she finally said, her words pleading. "I'm okay. You didn't mean to. I know that."
"I have to go, Emma," he resolved, his feet shuffling as he peered from side to side. "I'm sorry."
She reached for him, paying no mind to the fact that he didn't want her to, but it was a useless attempt. The night air was freezing and empty as she spun in a circle. He was gone.
Emma shuddered at the recollection of him disappearing into the thin evening air as her fingers traced the small punctures on her neck once more. It hadn't been his fault - he wasn't trying to hurt her. He'd promised her he wouldn't. She rested her head against the cold glass of the window as she tried to determine whether or not he truly had the willpower to make that call.
Her wondering was cut off quickly as the doorbell rang, the sound of an intrusive chime echoing through the emptiness of her house. She straightened in her seat and pushed the jacket off her arms as she headed for the stairs. She took them two at a time, her mind suddenly realizing just who it might be. Of course it had to be him - who else would be at her front door at such an hour?
"Killian?"
The name left her lips in a relieved tone, one that held no question but plenty of fading distress. His head was lowered as his hands braced on opposite sides of the door, but it lifted slowly to reveal the eyes she'd missed so terribly. They were clad in a light, apologetic blue - and god, she never knew she could love a color so much.
"Swan."
Hearing his voice made her want to dissolve into the floorboards, his timbre ragged and somewhat tormented. He'd clearly been giving himself hell since the moment he left the alley and the lack of finesse in his long acquired accent proved that. He was wearing those well fitted jeans she'd admired since the second she ran into him in the drugstore, paired with a blue flannel button down and his black sneakers. He looked more like a starving musician than a vampire - a fact that made her smile. Well, smile bigger anyway - she had already been doing so at the realization that he was the person who'd landed on her doorstep.
"Hi," she said softly. "How did you….I mean, this is my house."
God, could she sound any more ridiculous? Any fool with half a brain could determine that this was her residence. She was more interested in knowing how he'd found that out. Damn, those eyes were distracting.
"Aye, it is," he smirked subtly. "Also listed on your driver's license."
"You….remembered that?"
"Several decades of experience has done wonders for my memory, love."
"Right - vampire thing," she deduced, shaking her head. "It's, umm….good to see you."
"Likewise," he nodded, biting his lip in concentration. "Actually, I was hoping we could talk?"
"Oh - sure," she decided, pushing the door open a little wider. "I'd like that."
She stepped back slightly, a silent gesture to provide him entry, but he stayed put. He sighed heavily as he scratched behind his ear in a nervous manner. Emma studied him, pursing her lips a moment before it finally dawned on her. Right - this was her house.
"I'd like it too, love," he agreed, realizing she'd pieced it together. "But you're going to have to invite me in."
