A/N this is a one-shot tied to my story: Of love and other failures :) it explains some background that will become rather important in the future. if you haven't read Laof, please do it now and come back afterwards ;)
MaGnEtS aRe A hElL oF bIpOlAr MoThErFuCkErS.
tHeY aTtRaCt EaCh OtHeR, bEcAuSe OnE oF tHe SiDeS hAteS, AnD tHe OtHeR sIdE lOvEs...
AnD tHeY sTiCk ToGeThEr BeCaUsE oThErWiSe ThEy'D fEeL lOnElY aS fUcK.
tHeY wOrK bEcAuSe Of TrUe LoVe AnD aCcEpTaNcE, yKnOw...
AnD lOvE iS a MoThErFuCkInG mIrAcLe...
~Gamzee Makara~
Loud voices, screaming, yelling, laughing and cursing.
Fists smashing against iron bars and brick concrete walls, and occasionally flesh.
Muffled grunts and groans.
Creaking beds and Zippos clicking.
Toilets flushing and steps.
Steps?
Alistair Makara opened his eyes and sat up in his stone hard bed, listening more intently.
The steps were followed by whistling sounds and yells.
Fresh blood as it seems, he thought, grinning and showing his pointed fangs.
He brushed strands of black untidy hair behind his ear and waited for the guards to pass by with the newbie.
By the sound of it, it was a cute guy, probably a minor criminal, brought here because there was no room anywhere else.
But the guards didn't pass his cell; they stopped right in front of it, shielding the newbie from his view.
All Alistair was able to see were strands of bright red hair, a short guy.
"Makara, stand back" one of the guards yelled, gun pointed at him.
"Chill, I am sitting back, is that okay as well?"
While the guard with the gun kept glaring at Alistair, the other pulled out a key and opened the cell door, shoving in a young man and undid his had dark brown hair, styled up with bright red strands in it.
His dark brown eyes rested on Alistair and widened in surprise, recognition clear in them, before he smirked at him and took a step back.
It took Alistair a moment, but eventually he recognised the tanned boy. He was about eighteen and looked southern.
Without paying attention to the guards, he jumped up and charged towards the guy, but was held back by the other, holding a tazer against his throat, threatening to use it.
"Nitram!" Alistair shouted, and watched the grin on the other's face grow, fuelling his anger even more.
"Nice to see you Makara" he replied, waving a hand in front of his face.
"Makara, stand back. you will not touch this one, he is a key witness! If you dare to hurt him, it will be the last thing you'll ever do."
For a moment, Alistair considered charging at him again and ripping that arrogant smirk off that face, but eventually, he stepped back, growling in disgust when the guards left the cell, locking it behind Nitram's back.
"Well, well, Makara. Leader of the great Subjuggulators. Oh wait, since you'll be spending your life in here, you are not leader anymore.
I heard your gang is doing fine by the way. All with – urgh!"
The words were silenced, when Alistair pressed the younger boy against the wall, choking him, just enough to keep his mouth shut.
"I wouldn't rip my mouth open if I were you, Drake. You will be my fucking whore in here, don't think that just because they saved your ass now, they will help you again.
They did their job and now you are mine."
To be honest, Alistair had expected Drake to whimper and cry, but instead, he was laughing.
It was more of a choked chuckle, but it had the same effect.
The one who'd cry out in pain was Alistair, as soon as Drake's knee made contact with his crotch.
He dropped Drake and heard the hoarse laughter grow even louder.
"You really think you can break me you asshole?" he snickered and climbed up to the upper bunk bed.
"Don't forget, I, Drake Nitram, leader of the Toraedors will always kick your butt you sick bastard."
Alistair got up, smiled and leaned against the bed.
"So you are still leader? And I am not. Of course."
"Well" Drake said, grinning at Alistair and sitting down legs crossed.
"I won't rot in here forever, but you will. I am only charged with some minor business, I was the underground boss you know?
My people are so loyal that they claim me to be a little fish. And, I never killed an entire family out of pure insanity and joy."
His face changed from amused to disgusted.
"That was sick, even for you."
"Yeah, whatever, bitch" Alistair replied, and too fast for Drake to evade, he grabbed the tanned guy's foot and swung him down the bed and against the wall facing it.
Chuckling, he watched Drake getting up on his elbows, spitting out blood and his eyes unfocused.
"Fuck" he whispered, trying to get up, but failing miserably.
"Here…" Alistair said, voice dripping with amusement as he picked the mostly limp boy off the floor at his collar "Let me help you."
Ignoring the protests, he slammed the boy on his bed and pinned him down, hands over his head.
He pressed him down with his body and watched the brown eyes widening in horror.
"Let me go, fag" he said, voice slurring.
"oh, you will be the one screaming this fag's name in no time, so just enjoy it I guess."
Before Drake could protest even more, Alistair crushed their lips together, using his heavier body to stop the attempt of kicking free.
Alistair chuckled at the force Drake was mustering to fight him off, even with a head that has been introduced to the wall just moments ago.
It was not that Alistair liked guys; he just wanted to make this one suffer.
The moment he let his hand wander down to graze Drake's ass and making him gasp, Alistair used the opportunity to force his tongue inside the other's mouth.
At first, Drake retched and tried to bite, and Alistair quickly grabbed his jaw, forcing it to remain open, but eventually, he gave in, moaning softly and no longer fighting it.
He arched his back, pressing against Alistair, making him chuckle when he pulled away, staring into lust-filled eyes.
"You are enjoying this way too much" he said, watching the other blush.
"Shut up" Drake said, and leaned up again, capturing Alistair's lips.
The kiss was passionate and rough, the grip around Drake's wrist iron, while the other hand returned to roam over the slim body.
But suddenly, that moment was over.
Alistair screamed out in pain, when Drake suddenly bit down on his tongue, drawing blood.
Along with that, he freed himself of the one hand that was holding him, stopping Alistair's fists that were about to crash his skull.
He didn't let go though, he would kill this bastard, biting off his tongue if necessary.
But of course, Alistair wouldn't just let that happen either.
He smashed his head against Drake's risking to get his tongue bitten off, and slammed the already concussed head against the hard bed.
Drake instead of biting harder had gasped and blacked out, as soon as their heads had made contact.
Panting and cursing, with blood running into his eyes, Alistair sat up, staring down at the unconscious man.
"Fuck…" he said out loud, regretting it immediately.
His tongue would surely swell and hurt like hell in a couple of minutes.
But he probably would learn from this.
He learned, not to underestimate this asshole again.
Alistair had always hated the younger man's guts, ever since they first crossed paths while still being in the same gang.
When they both started their own, the war escalated and went full out.
They sabotaged each other whenever it was possible and more than once mourned over unnecessary victims, but their stubbornness and pride was the only thing that kept them going.
And now they were fucking cell-mates, great…
At night, Alistair woke to the sound of someone puking out his guts.
Shit that guy's head must have taken some damage, he thought, laughing to himself.
"Hey! Can't you do that quieter?"
He heard coughing, and another retching sound before Drake finally managed to speak up.
"Fuck you" he said, barely a whisper, before he hit the ground.
"Sleep tight motherfucker" Alistair mused before closing his eyes again.
From that moment on, the two of them kept their feud going inside the prison-walls.
Drake had to demonstrate his power and will more than once, while Alistair already had a reputation amongst the other inmates, making them well aware of his capabilities.
They sometimes fought openly, or played other prisoners against each other, creating a little war once again.
The guards, afraid to be caught in the middle, just let them be.
As soon as there was a fight, they'd leave them until either one or both of them passed out.
At night, each kept to themselves. Alistair had ceased harassing Drake, afraid to really lose his tongue, but he knew that this was the easiest way to break a guy like Drake.
He'd completely lose it, probably. Being raped by your nemesis did something to a person that couldn't be remedied easily, but in a way, it was a dirty way to do it.
Despite all the fucked up stuff Alistair had done, there was still some honour inside of him, and rape was not among his repertoire.
Everyday, one of the guards would take away Drake for interrogation, but each and every time, he would return, grinning and satisfied, knowing that they wouldn't get the truth out of him.
Ever.
They wanted a testimony against the head of the Toreadors, who was of course Drake, but they suspected his second in Command, Allen Vantas.
He kept his mouth shut tightly, even when Inspector Redglare put her hands on him, interrogating him for a whole night.
But this time it was different.
Drake hadn't been called out for an interrogation, but a phone call.
And now, half an hour later, he returned, and for the first time in his entire life, Alistair felt that something inside Drake had been broken.
He looked as if he had been gone for ages, his eyes tired and his movements slurred.
As soon as the cell door closed behind him, he climbed on top of his bed and stared at the wall.
Alistair, who had been writing a letter, sitting on the floor, watched the boy lie there, motionless.
"Hey" he called, somehow concerned over what could break a stubborn prick like that so easily.
He didn't receive any form of reply though.
Not even a little movement or an annoyed grunt.
After a moment in tense silence, Alistair got up and leaned against the bed.
It was almost as if this was their first day together, but now Alistair felt something almost like concern…
It was disgusting…
"Nitram, what happened?"
Again no answer, but this time, Drake began to shake.
"Fuck… what did they do?"
"Go away…" Drake replied, voice weak and shaky.
Alistair snickered and wanted to turn the boy around, but he was interrupted again.
"… Please."
Something about the way Drake genuinely pleaded, made Alistair's heart skip a beat.
Holy crap…
It was strange, but he obliged.
Without a word, Alistair sat down on his own bed and rested his head in his hands.
It had been the same plea he had heard before. A plea that tore him down into the memories he had tried to forget.
Before he had been betrayed and imprisoned here.
The day he saw his most beloved treasure for the first and last time.
He remembered the words being spoken with tears in blue eyes, ripping the treasure out of his arms and disappearing into the night.
That little tiny thing was the reason he wrote letters everyday, about his life, his past, his beloved ones and his dark future in this hell-hole, only illuminated by the small chance of ever seeing it again.
None of these letters had ever been sent away. Alistair kept them hidden and secret, since they contained his life, his soul and his heart, which he only chose to let one individual ever see.
The one he'd probably never see again…
Enough!
Alistair shook his head, clearing it from the dark thoughts and decided to catch some z's.
Nothing good came out of sinking into a swamp of sorrow.
Tomorrow, everything would be better.
He would be his old high and mighty self, while Drake would be back to his stubborn cocky attitude.
But Drake wasn't.
He remained apathetic and gloomy, dismissing his gang, leaving them to their own business.
For days he sat inside of the library, studying the law-books, never resting, not for food, not for fresh air.
And at night, he went to sleep immediately, or at least he pretended to. Everyone saw from his looks that he never slept.
After three weeks, Alistair had enough.
He waited for the guards to clear the hallway after locking the cells, and plucked the now even lighter Drake off his bed.
"Wha – " he yelped when he was thrown onto Alistair's bed and pressed against the wall.
"Shut up. First I'll talk" Alistair said, destroying each and every attempt of Drake to protest.
Not that he would have.
He just sat there, sunken eyes and bony cheeks.
"Okay, now listen. What the fuck has happened? You turned from an annoying as fuck prick into a zombie.
And to be honest, I liked the prick better. Now you better tell me what is wrong, or I'll have to squeeze it out of that skinny throat."
Brown eyes darted to the side, avoiding Alistair's.
It made him furious.
Why didn't he fight? Why didn't he tell him? why didn't he trust him?
It was weird, but they were closer than any of the others were.
Hatred and rivalry had formed a bond, through which they were tied together, a strange bond, but a bond nonetheless.
He knew a lot about Drake's life, just as Drake knew a lot about his.
They practically grew up together before they parted ways.
And now, it was as if he was looking at a stranger.
He wanted to make Drake feel better, so that they could go back to hating each other's guts.
The way he was ignored hurt more than any resentment, and that scared Alistair in a way, but he ignored the strange feeling and forced himself to stay calm.
"Nitram. Why won't you tell me?"
Drake still didn't look at him.
"Why would I? you hate me, I hate you. We aren't friends."
"Fuck that – "
That finally made Drake's eyes dart around and focus on Alistair's
" – Even if we don't like each other, we are the closest thing to friends we have."
For a moment, he saw that Drake was debating inside, whether to let himself break down or not.
He decided not to.
"let me go."
Alistair shook his head and tightened his grip on Drake's shoulders.
"Let. Me. Go" he hissed, punching Alistair's ribs.
To be honest, Alistair couldn't explain his actions at the moment.
He just wanted Drake to be okay again, to have his counterpart again…
It hurt him to see Drake this miserable…
That sounded so fucking sappy.
"Let –" Drake yelled, but was interrupted, when Alistair wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close.
He fought and squirmed, but Alistair wouldn't let go, but pull him closer.
Eventually, Drake finally broke down.
Fingers dug into Alistair's back and he buried his face in the other's neck, while Alistair gently rubbed his back.
This was so gay, he thought, but somehow, it felt right.
Drake didn't cry, he simply clung to Alistair, trembling and breathing heavily, as if he was tortured by cramps.
"Tell me –"
" – Dianne" Drake cut him off.
"Dianne died. She… she didn't tell me. I have to get out of here."
Fuck.
Alistair closed his eyes and rested his head against Drake's hoping to soothe him a bit.
Dianne had been Drake's girl for over six years.
He had heard that they had separated some months back, but the very different pair had stayed in contact and was somehow still co-dependent.
Dianne had been the kind of woman that wouldn't go near scum like them normally.
Kind, soft, full of warmth and always smiling.
She had been the sun in Drake's life, and Alistair had knew it.
"What didn't she tell you?"
Drake chuckled coldly, and it came out with a sob.
"She was pregnant. I have a son. She died giving birth to my child…"
Holy fuck…
Alistair wanted to say something, but all the words were stuck in his throat.
A son.
A little baby, left alone without a mother and a father in jail. Great.
It was so much like…
"I need to get out Alistair. I need to take care of my son. I… I want to be a good father to him. I will… I want to see him…"
He is only eighteen, Alistair thought, four years younger than me.
Again, the words wouldn't come out, and Alistair simply sat there, rocking Drake in his arms, when he felt tears on his shoulder.
He was surprised by how it affected him.
If it had been anyone else, he'd probably mock them, laugh at their pathetic tears, but now?
Now he wanted to make them stop. Wanted to see that arrogant self confident grin again…
Slowly, this position began getting uncomfortable, so Alistair gently laid them down, Drake still in his arms.
They both knew that it should feel weird for them, having been enemies all this time, but they both didn't care.
Drake curled up against him and a few more tears escaped.
None of them talked anymore, they just lay there, listening and feeling their breaths and heartbeats, which slowly lulled them both into sleep.
When Drake opened his eyes, he almost jumped out of bed in surprise, but eventually the events of the last evening returned, and he relaxed into Alistair's arms.
It was still night, probably around midnight.
Strangely, the constant falling and rising of the other's chest against his, had a calming effect on him and he took the moment to study Alistair's face.
Despite being a brute and a brutal psycho, he had delicate features when he was sleeping. He looked calm, content even…
He fought the urge to reach up and brush one of the stray locks of hair out of his face, and failed.
Alistair stirred under his touch and his eyes fluttered open slowly.
He tensed and jumped a bit, just like Drake had before, but calmed down instantly.
"Hey" he whispered, voice heavy with drowsiness.
"Hey" Drake replied, drawing his hand back and resting it against Alistair's chest, whose arms remained around Drake's shoulder and waist.
"Done crying you fairy?" Alistair teased, but there was no hostility in his eyes, and his smile was unusually soft.
They remained like this in silence, holding each other, and almost falling back asleep.
"Why are you helping me?" Drake asked eventually.
Alistair shrugged.
"Actually, I don't know. I guess what I said was true.
We are the closest thing to friends we have.
I mean you know me better than most.
I just want it to go back to before you went zombie."
"You mean to fighting and death-threats?" Drake asked, chuckling.
"Is it weird if I say yes?"
"No. I feel the same."
Again there was a silence, awkward this time, until Drake finally broke it again.
"Why does this feel right then? I mean if we want to be at each other's throats, why are we cuddling like this?"
Strange how sometimes, the simplest thing, like speaking out a thought can change something.
This little question changed the whole air around them.
It was no longer simply two friends holding each other in comfort.
It was two men, holding each other for the sake of being close.
"I don't know" Alistair said after a while.
He thought about letting go of Drake, but somehow that was not what he wanted.
His mind was telling him that this was an enemy, the guy he was supposed to hate, and he did.
But at the same time, his body, and his heart told him that he should hold him close and feel him.
He hated him, but at the same time, he wanted him…
"Maybe they are right" he said.
Drake gave him a questioning look.
"About what?"
Alistair let out a shaky sigh, almost embarrassed.
"That Hatred and Love are pretty much the same, it's a pendulum that is constantly swinging from one to the other.
You can love someone and hate someone with exact the same force."
"So… you say… that you love me?" Drake asked, eyes wide.
Again, Alistair shrugged.
"I don't know… do you? I mean I know that somehow I hate you, but I can't watch you being broken up like this."
"I hate you too, but I … I like this."
Alistair laughed softly, gently pulling Drake closer.
"We are freaks, right? So did we simply fight each other to gain each other's attention?"
"Maybe" Drake replied, grinning sheepishly.
The grin was contagious and spread across Alistair's face, before he leaned in, kissing Drake, without thinking about the consequences.
Drake gasped in surprise, and grabbed Alistair's shirt, before closing his eyes and kissing back.
The kiss turned from a bit passionate to heated in seconds, and soon Drake felt Alistair's fingers travelling down to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up.
They had to break the kiss to get rid of their shirts before they connected again, needing the contact.
When Alistair's tongue slid over the roof of Drake's mouth, he moaned softly and let his hands wander into Alistair's black locks, pulling whenever he felt the sparks inside his body explode.
Like when Alistair left his mouth to suck at the sensitive spot behind his ear, or when he felt fingers sliding up and down his legs, and ending up between them.
Alistair's body was pressed up against him, leaving only little room for roaming hands, but it was not enough for Drake.
He wanted him more, closer.
"Alistair…" he mewled softly, trying to keep his voice low.
He felt Alistair smile against his throat, before gasping again when he felt teeth sinking in.
Then there was Alistair's tongue, first at his throat, then on his collarbone and in combination with the hand that was stroking him through his boxers, Drake almost lost his mind.
Suddenly, a picture shoved itself into Drake's mind:
Dianne, her smile, the sound of her laughter and the feel of her soft skin beneath his.
He had to get it out of his head, he tried to and clenched his eyes, panting slightly from the ongoing passionate ministrations Alistair was working on.
Then they stopped.
Drake opened his eyes and stared up into purple orbs full of concern.
"You okay?"
The lies were on his tongue, but somehow they didn't get past his lips.
It was easy, say: yes, I am okay, now fuck me.
"No, I am far from okay. Just… make me forget, at least for now."
Alistair nodded eventually, still concerned, and leaned down again, pulling Drake close.
And in the end, Drake did forget.
For a moment, there was only the two of them, entangled in blissful pleasure.
For a moment he forgot about the way he had done this with Dianne and how much he would miss her.
He didn't love her anymore, not like he had before.
He forgot that there was a care in the world.
He forgot that he was in prison and that he would never see his son, as long as he didn't do something he dreaded…
But it was the first thing that popped into his mind, after Alistair had fallen asleep, arms wrapped around him.
"I will do it."
Alistair looked up from his lunch and saw Drake standing in front of him, holding his plate, staring down at him.
"You'll do what?" Alistair asked, allowing Drake to sit across him.
It had been a week ever since that night, but a lot had changed.
They still fought and cursed at each other, but it had a different nature now.
Somehow both knew that they had each other's backs, no matter what.
And more often than they'd have expected, one of them would climb into the other's bed at night, in need of comfort or simply being horny.
"I will do what it takes to get me out of here. I will frame Serket."
Alistair frowned instantly.
He had been keeping Drake company, and he had always cheered him up whenever he had another sob-fit about his son.
But he had hoped that Drake would never take the step of really going through with it.
Marlene, Dianne's sister and currently the boy's guardian had visited Drake and shown him pictures of his boy.
The boy's name remained a secret, kept and protected by that witch.
But the pictures alone were probably enough to fuel Drake's spirit.
"I already spoke to my lawyer and the police. If I testify, I will get to raise my boy.
Of course there will be some problems, but they said I could get through it.
I would have to always attend parole meetings and such, but I could live a relatively normal life with my son."
It was hard not to smile, seeing Drake excited and happy like this.
Oh wait, it wasn't, because it shattered Alistair's heart at the same time.
He would be stuck in here forever, and he'd never…
"You know you are only eighteen?"
Drake nodded.
"Yeah, I know. But Marlene will help me."
"And what about a job?"
"I called my mother and she offered me one in her shop."
"So you are completely giving up your old life?"
For a moment, Drake's smile wavered and he fidgeted with the spoon for his pudding.
Great, Alistair thought, this guy had just ruined pudding Wednesday…
"I actually do, but it won't be easy I guess."
"Old habits die hard" Alistair sighed and took a now cold fry, eating it slowly.
"I didn't mean the illegal, criminal part. I was talking about you."
That made Alistair look up in surprise.
"What?"
Drake smiled softly.
"I don't want to leave you here."
They sat in silence for a moment, but words weren't necessary.
Drake would leave, no matter what, and somewhere deep inside, Alistair could understand it.
He would too, if he'd had the chance, but he was in here without a chance of getting out.
And if he ever did, it would be too late for him.
So all he could do was grasp what he could get from Drake and hang onto it.
"There are ways" he said, trying to keep his voice evenly.
In the end, Drake succeeded.
He would leave and be united with his son, while Alistair would stay here, but he had come to terms with it.
At least for now.
And he didn't want or managed to think about it right now, not with Drake on top of him, moaning his name over and over again.
Suddenly, though, Alistair had to get it off his chest, the thing he had hidden from Drake, or anyone for that matter, the whole time.
"Drake" he called, ceasing movement, and watched Drake opening his eyes, an irritated look on his face.
"What?" he moaned "isn't it a bit quick?"
"It's not that you idiot" Alistair said, breathing heavy himself.
Drake growled and began to move, but Alistair grabbed his hips to stop them.
"I need to tell you something."
An impatient moan escaped Drake's throat.
"Can't it wait, we are kind of occupied, aren't we?"
Alistair shook his head.
Sighing annoyed, Drake got off him and rolled over to look at Alistair.
"Okay. I'm listening."
Chuckling, Alistair pulled Drake close.
"It's something important, that I have never told anyone. And I am telling it to you for a reason, because I want you to do me a favour."
Now, he had Drake's full attention.
"Of course."
Before he could talk, Alistair took a deep breath and stared at the upper bunk-bed.
"I have a son too."
He felt Drake's arms slide around his waist, making him relax a bit.
"His name is Gamzee, I know it's a strange name, but I liked it.
His mother allowed me to name him… it was the only thing I could do the first time I saw him.
I took him into my arms and gave him his name.
She… she took him away from me, that moment, then and there.
I… that's why I know how you feel. I want to be with Gamzee too.
But I think his mother had been right not to let him know me.
I mean I am a killer…
He is better off with her, I just… wanted to know about him. he's two now.
I wish I had a picture of him, but I lost contact…"
Alistair let out a shaky breath, happy to have it off his chest at last.
"Al… I'm sorry."
Smiling, Alistair turned and pulled Drake close, burying his face in the red and brown hair, taking in Drake's scent.
"Don't be. There's something I want you to do though.
When you leave tomorrow, please take along the letters I wrote for him.
I never sent any of them, but if your paths ever cross, please give them to him."
Without a second's hesitation, Drake nodded against Alistair's chest.
"I will."
For a while they just lay there, entangled and breathing each other.
They didn't continue what they had begun, but used all the time they had left to imprint each and every little detail about each other.
There would be letters…
There would be phone calls…
But there was no telling if they'd ever be able to touch each other again.
When Drake left the facility the next day, he barely managed to keep the tears back. it was stupid to cry for a man like him, but he felt as if he had just lost a part of him…
A part that he hadn't been aware about and would probably never be recovered.
All that was pushed back, though, as soon as he noticed a tall blonde woman with a white tiny, but really loud, bundle in her arms.
He walked over to them as fast as he could, dropping the bag with his belongings as soon as he reached them.
The woman smiled a bit annoyed and passed the crying baby to him.
When he gently held the boy, careful about the head, he smiled and the baby stopped crying.
"Marlene, what's his name?"
The woman sighed and picked up his bag.
"Tavros. What a stupid name."
Drake ignored her when she passed him and walked toward their taxi.
All he could do was marvel over the perfect little creature in his arms.
"Tavros?"
The baby giggled and grabbed his thumb lazily.
"Do you know what? You are perfect Tavros…"
"Nitram!" Marlene called. "Get over here already. We'll miss the train."
Nodding, but not looking at her, he made to join her.
He threw one last sad look at the prison he had just left and got into the car.
Inside, the smiled down at his son again.
"So, Tavros. You'll live with daddy now…"
Tavros wriggled inside his arms and yawned, slowly dozing off.
"You ready champ?"