.

..

We won nationals.

No –more than that. We won the world's attention.

We are the Barden Bellas, and I was there leading captain. I was the reason for our success, our national tours all over the globes waxing hands, reaching out towards us and chanting our names over and over and over.

Huh. Wouldn't mom and dad be so proud?

Supposedly not on another hand since I still found myself dirt poor towards the end of freshmen year. You'd think living among the successful life of an acapella group would pay good money. Well I'll tell you now –they don't. Purely put, our tours and sponsorships covered the costs of our hotel stays, plane tickets, food consumption, stage props, and costume designs. That's about it. Maybe here and there we get donations (those immediately split between the group), but besides that –I'm relying on financial care for school tuition and wearing the same pairs of clothes every week.

It was the graduation of freshmen year when the dreaded topic was brought up by none other than…you guessed –Chloe. Fucking. Beale.

"Hey Beca?"

It was the aftermath of freshman party. I had face planted onto my bed, finding satisfaction in the humid darkness of my blankets as the thoughts of soon-to-be stress for registering to next year's schooling began. She, obviously not taking the hint that I wished to be alone, had slid her way into the room and began wandering around.

"Wha'dya want…"

I didn't necessarily care since, well, this had become a fairly regular routine between the two of us. She'd eventually just get bored of going through the handwritten music notes and lyrics to my many many journals (in which she claims is a sign to the next DJ Mozart –?), poking me on the head before leaving with a dramatically crafted whine of disappointment.

But, that's where my presumption went wrong.

Never. Ever. Even attempt at assuming the actions of Chloe Beale. Results of this can lead to situations as such:

"Is this all the clothes you have?"

"SONov'A-"

I was sprung up and slamming the closet door shut within the time frame three seconds flat.

"I –Beca!" she looked at me expectedly, crossing her arms over her chest, as if it was her who should be infuriated at this very moment. "It was just a question! No need to get all aggressive over it…"

I think I kind of just continuously sputtered for a good thirty seconds, stuck between wanting to slap her pretty little face straight off her head and simply just losing my shit there and then. "Dude," was what I finally managed to spit out after a long period of restricted breathing. "Learn. Your personal boundaries!"

"Or…" she countered quickly. "You should learn to expand yours!"

"Oh fuck off dude! I can do as I please."

"I didn't say you couldn't Beca," she shifted her glare back to the closed closet door. "I'm just saying that maybe you should …start…letting people in. Like, personally-ish. Dude."

Damn it. She was doing the thing again. That –thing. The thing, meaning, the generating of her dangerously irresistible…puppy eyes (oh the horror!) Stretching them (totally on purpose by the way) and allowing the smallest of a sad smile to tug at her lips.

"Chloe. Chloe stop. I've known you long enough to figure out what you're trying to do."

She only angled her head to the side, catching the escaping rays of the setting sun and positioning it perfectly with her pouting façade. I instantly looked away, refusing to be pulled into that pitiful gaze, knowing fully as to where this conversation would lead to if I even as so much glanced back to her alluring stare.

"Becs?"

"Nope!" I continued staring up at the white ceiling, taking extra measures as to squeeze shut my eyes. You never know what the girl has planned up her filthy sleeves. "Medusa ain't got nothin' on me Chlo."

There was silence, and for a split-second the unknown feeling of triumph came over me. Could it be? Had I at last won my first battle against the dreaded seductress?

There was a wisp, just a strand. Small and hardly noticeable, tickling the tip of my nose and bringing out a very unladylike snort. Was there a breeze in here or is it just my imaginatiOHFORFUCKSSA-

"Beca~"

Shouldn't have opened my eyes ofmygOD should not have opened my eyes.

Taller than me, strike one. Way up in my face, like, an approximated two inches away from my nose way-up-in-my-face –strike two. Entirely transfixing on her smugly hidden smirk, an innocent look that had looked to be suspiciously crafted beforehand just for me. Me, and my insistent stubborn attitude towards any form of personalized talk since it always lead to a conversation of lies and improv. Lunch, dinner, and breakfast hang outs all declined under the excuse of "homework" when in all honesty –I just didn't have enough money to be feeding myself so leniently at her expensively described restaurants.

Without a doubt. I knew what she was trying to do. And there was no way in hell I'd be give into it so easily.

"Listen. ChloeEEE-"

Improper ending use of vocal chords and sudden abrupt stop of the usage all together? Yes. Because suddenly, her sense of all respect to "Beca's space" seemed to disappear as her arms were whipped up, snagging my wrists and pushing me up against the wall. Still leaning over me, towering in a way that made me appear oh so small and fragile, anxious at the way her fingers tightened at the feeling of my struggling. A skinny, weakly malnourished body pressed up against a healthy, athletically toned figure. Breathes mingling for a moment before I dropped my head downwards and squeezed further into the wall, maybe even fantasizing through a prayer that I would just squeeze right through because for fuCKs sAKE I just knEW she was doing this on purpose.

"Dude." Not good, it sounded as though my voice grew three octaves higher. "Get the fuck off me."

"Come with me shopping?" I shivered. Visibly. The ways of this witch were just plain evil. I was still looking down, doing my best to definitely not stare at the way her body was pressed closely –way way way to closely to mine. In a sensual manner of abruptness, my skin was on fire. Flesh slowly beginning to sear at realization of –wow. This is really hot. At every shuffle of her movements, the searing was turned into a sudden scorching flame as it dribbled its greedy flickering tongue over my gradually melting knees, her face was leaning closer, lips barely touching my forehead as a barely exhaled of a whisper came to say with the utmost of purity to be laid out.

"Please?~"

Slow and torturous.

And I literally felt the outline of her lips brush against my skin. A mixture of pure horror concocted, delineated with the forbiddingly stained thoughts of fondness and affection. Seeing as, well, why haven't I actually tried to push her away yet? (Besides not having the strength in the first place…this girl's surprisingly pretty beefy.)

"C'mon Becs," opting to continue from my inability to produce any forms of a coherent sentence, let alone word. "It'll only be for a couple hours."

It was thus when, throughout this entire conversation, I finally made my greatest mistake. It was just a glance. Curiosity, perchance, being the cause. It was there the beat stopped, 1 -2 -3 seconds before it was reverberated to life, dropping with the bass and followed by an eccentric buzz that came to fill the seemingly vibrating room itself. Uncontrollable, rolling and twisting with the forged notes of the whirling tune reflected off a sapphire tinted gaze, ceasing and bursting and stuttering with every flutter of her lids. Fluidly encasing and bathing me with this steady –timid, yet alien riff. Hummed, cradled and played through the very fingers captivating my departure, corroborating the assurance of a smoothly strummed tempo. And when her head was cocked slightly to the side, and a ghostly flicker of eyes was directed down towards my lips, it was here where the mash-up was put to a scratching halt.

Swallowing the gathered saliva in my throat, I was finally able to croak out a meek "Fine", in which she gladly beamed to. Her hands were loosened, coming to slide down my arms and (maybe my imagination) seeming to linger a bit too long before finally breaking away from me.

"Meet at the Chai House this Friday. Usual time," she positively smiled, turning and strolling her way out the door. As if she hadn't just proudly bestowed future medically related heart conditions on me.

"Yeah," still stiff against the wall, I gave her a meaningless wave. "See ya."

Just as the door was about to be closed, her head momentarily popped back in. "Oh! And you should probably get a new phone. I'll still be on the lookout for your old one, but c'mon girl it's been months now! I need my texting buddy!"

Well. That's going to be a problem since I never really had a phone in the first place.

But at the moment, my brain still wasn't really functioning at full capacity. I sort of just waved again, and I guess taking that as an affirmative, she blew a quick kiss before closing the door quietly behind her. Leaving me to stand there, googly eyed and frazzled to the max. Slowly, my knees were bended, sliding my back against the wall until I was sitting with my knees drawn to my chest.

"Holy shit."

I didn't have enough money to dorm.

Tuition could be covered with the help of Financial Need and my stand by job, but the cost for dorming couldn't stand to be afforded anymore. It had taken me two years of three full time jobs without the help of Financial Need to pay for freshman year alone. This year, with the assistance of Financial Need and payment from a single year of a partly working job, the cost of sophomore year was hardly reached. Hardly said, as I was forced to use the tips and common curtsey (usually reserved for food) as a second resort. Scholarships, were not seen to be accepted.

So I skipped out on the mall, instead using the time to find a suitable hidey spot for my now (yet again) homeless self.

Sucks, I was sort of looking forward to the mall.

Sucks that I knew I wouldn't have gone anyway.

Sucks –I was just getting used to the feeling of a bed.

:(

"You ditched me."

"I had…homework?"

"…"

"…"

"Summer classes don't start until next month Beca."

"Just getting a, um, head start…"

"…"

"…"

"…your –you –you ass!"

I'll be honest here. Did not see that coming. One thing I've come to learn is that Chloe Beale does not cuss. Under any circumstances.

"Do you know how long I waited for you? How long I sat there, drinking chai after chai after chai –so so so sure that you weren't that kind of person. But here you are. Standing here, giving me this shit-for an excuse."

Wow. She is really mad isn't she? I amsoscrewed…

"Look, Chlo-"

"Y'know what?" Jesus, she was trembling now, looking at me with such an unusual look of repugnance that just brought chills to my now clammy hands. "Forget it. Just forget it Beca. I'm sure whatever you were really doing was way more important. Right?"

Ehhh, I did find my form of shelter for the night.

"No! Um, shit Chloe it wasn't…it's not-" I rubbed the back of my neck, struggling to form a reasonable excuse with my sucky improv skills. "…I just really –had to…find something. Like, really badly. And as soon as…possible?"

Judging from her deadpanned expression, I'm guessing that it wasn't enough. But instead of answering, she just rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and shoving my shoulder as she brushed by me.

Might've as well just slapped me instead.

Saturday night. No work today, thankfully to my exhausted body. A couple of hours have gone by since the whole "Chloe incident".

And I was just so…guilt-ridden. Eugh.

The way her fists were clenched so tightly to her sides, to the point where her whole body was just quivering with steaming anger. I mean –jesus! Ya see? This. This is why I don't associate myself with people. To avoid feeling this dreadfully awful, not to mention bothersome form of emotion. Stupid stupid…

I sighed lightly into the night air. "Stupid."

So this is why I found myself leaving the broken down shed (or more specifically, my new household), journeying through the couple yards of brambly forestry until finally popping out onto the side of the road. It was here I began my two hours and forty five minutes' walk to none other than the only Barden University, a straight stroll through the form of a sidewalk with the rape whistle clutched securingly in my baggy sweats. Goosebumps were already forming on the exposed skin from my tank top since my three pairs of sweaters were at the moment being hung and dried.

Who knew summer winters could be this chilly?

It was around two AM when I finally arrived at the designated dorm. Drumming my knuckles on my knees before I took in a deep breath, rapping them lightly on her door.

One beat.

Two beats.

Three beats.

The door was swung open, and the mix was awakened.

"Beca?"

"Oh. Heeey…Aubrey." God daMN. Why hasn't she moved out yet?!

"What the hell are you doing here?" Clearly she had been sleeping, evident bags and tussled blond hair being a clear sign. Absolutely terrifying if I'm being honest with myself here.

"Jus'…jus' looking for Chloe. Y'know, the usual…"

"At two o clock in the morning? What the fuck is wrong with you Mitchell? And why does it look like you've been sleeping in hay?"

Because I have been fucker.

"Uh, hello? New captain of the Bella's here Aubrey. I got a sudden sense of inspiration and decided to work it out with my co-captain."

"Well you sense of inspiration sucks Beca!"

I raised my hands in defense. "Ya ya I get it. No need to get all bitchy about it Bree. Now is Chloe here or what?"

"Ugh," she rolled her eyes, not really driving the same effect on me as it normally would have since she wasn't exactly the first person to do that to me today. "Saturday night Captain. It's rare for Chloe to make it back to the room sober at this early in the night."

Of fucking course. "Thanks Bree." I turned to leave, pausing only to give a light wave. "And sorry for waking you from your beauty sleep and whatever."

She just grunted something incomprehensible, moving to shut the door before coming to a halt. "Wait, seriously Mitchell. What's with the hay? It's like, all over you."

"I tripped into a haystack on my way here."

And the conversation was officially ended.

"Oi! There you are sweetums! C'mere and help me finish this beer!"

I've made a mistake.

I took a guess, and (lucky me) it happened to be a pretty good guess. Who knew Chloe was suck a fan of the bar I worked at right? From the things I've heard, the girl would've probably preferred the "wilder" bar down the block. In comparison, the bar room could've been considered dead quiet; silent whispers and mumbles being the only thing heard.

"Hey Chlo," I sat down in the stool adjacent from her. Cautious as always. Drunk Chloe is definitely not a sexually safe Chloe. "Pretty drunk there huh?"

"Whaaaa? No way Beca-poo! No waaayyy."

I cringed inwardly. This was new. "Well," I carefully hinged away the bottle from her swaying hand. "Why don't we bust this popsicle stand and go to your place? Much roomier right?"

"Nuh-uh!" Her hand went to snatch at bottle, easily intercepted by yours truly. "Give id' back Bec! Aubrey'll get mad at me if I go back now!"

"Well then why don't we just go walking or something? Get some fresh air?"

"Mmm –nope!" she grinned, so sure that I was up to something mischievous. Which I really wasn't. Honestly, I was kinda just making sure she didn't get raped or whatever. "You'll jus' ditch me again! Again and again and again!"

Obviously, I would have to take this at a different approach.

"Then let's make a deal Beale," I tried, motioning for the bartender (not surprisingly Jesse, who I gave a slight nod of greetings too) to clear away the many empty bottles of beer. Shit this girl was really drunk. "Does a deal sound good to you?"

Despite her drunken brain, her head seemed to perk up, listening perhaps? "Oh Beca honey," she smirked, eyes looking twice the frazzle they were when I had first entered. Definitely listening –definitely in the wrong way. "You didn't have to ask to get in my bed. Cuz gurl –you is fiiiiiine."

I died.

"I would take you on any day babe."

Resurrected. Then died gain.

"Any time, any place, any -"

"Alright! Let's go Beale!" I slid off the stool, well aware of the dangerous flare encompassing my neck to cheeks. Grabbing her wrist, I figured that I'd just drag her out from the bar instead. Way better than crap she had in mind. Fuck these "deals" with a drunk Chloe.

Suspiciously however, she followed easily, giggling about something sex related in which I chose to wisely tune out.

We exited the bars door, pausing only to straighten her dishelmed sweater and zip it closed. "Wrong way Becs," she sniggered, and to my utmost surprise coming to place her hands on both sides of my cheeks, gently cupping them upwards. "You're supposed to go the other way honey."

She drunk, I repeatedly told myself, completely (not) ignoring everything and about this situation. The smell of alcohol tinting her breath is what really snapped me out of it though. Filthy drunk. M-hm.

I calmly pried her hands off my face, instead throwing one of her arms over my shoulder (de' ja' vu sort of) to steady her wobbling knees and leading onward. Also completely (not) ignoring the pleasuring relief of warmth from her sweater on my bare skin.

"Take me to your place Becs," she half mumbled half slurred through drooping eyelids about twenty minutes into the difficult walk that consisted of me pretty much dragging her misplaced feet. "I know about you moving out of the dorms. Jus' take me to your apartment pleeerrz…"

How the hell did she even find out about that? It happened literally three days ago.

"Aubrey'll get worried Chlo. We're almost at your place anyway."

"But Beeccaaaa…"

"Just hush please," I quickly cut her off. "Your breath reeks of alcohol." Also because there's no way I'm taking a hot chick to a run down, smelling of manure and algae barn.

She playfully blew in my face, only aggravating me to hiss something unintelligent and have her giggle in return. I heaved her arm up again since she was now practically leaning her whole weight on me. Quite the work out considering my anorexic-like figure. In fact, about a block to go, I was forced to sit her and myself on a passing by bench in order to catch my breath. Having only recently began to eat exactly two meals a day (previously being the exact amount of three –no snacks unless provided by others) can really take a toll on someone's stamina eh?

Thankfully, after a good hour or so of a total of only three breaks, we were going down the hallway towards her dorm. I tip-toed my way through the corridor, she on the other hand apparently wasn't sober enough to realize that this was the time to stop singing sex songs completely off tuned and shut the fuck up.

"Chloe!" I hissed, now only a couple doors away from her room. "Just shut your damn mouth!"

"You CAn't tell mE what to D-" I slapped a hand onto her mouth, cutting her piercing voice off furthermore. Every step I was taking now was just eugh, because it was without a doubt that I she was now purposefully leaning her entire weight on me. To the point where I could feel the smirk of her lips on my palm as she felt me struggle, my energy from the last break already proving to be hardly enough to make it just a couple more feet…

Victory!

I leaned Chloe momentarily on the corridors wall behind me, making sure to brush off any excess hay before taking the fateful step away from Chloe's giggling and reaching to knock for the door. Arm raised –trembling and out of breath if I may add from the overworking, knuckles just a fraction of a millimeter away from the door's wooden frame, thoughts of Aubrey and her wrath and the way her blood red eyes will force me to debt of adding extra cardio to the Bella's cardio exercises –already making their way into my head when all of a sudden –

I was yanked violently back, twirled and promptly reaching for my rape whistle on instinct as the side of my face connected painfully with the cold wall. Someone was pressed up behind me –female, pressed closely to where I could feel just about everything I most definitely should not be feeling about her. My hands were discarded away from my pocket, instead pinned by a strong grasp to either side of my body, sliding upwards as a breath came closer and closer to my ear. It tickled my ear, tickled my stomach, hell –it had me shuddering from top to bottom. Then a certain smell became apparent, the smell of –whiskey?

Seriously, I should've guessed this sooner. I swear to god this damn woman will end up with no arms tomorrow if she doesn't get the fuck off me.

"Beale!" I whispered to the best of my ability, ending up with a voice just about representing my whole body at that point. Quaking and cracking, loud and hissing at the same time. "I will fucking tear your god damn arms off you fucking rapi-"

The ability to talk, let alone breath was completely cut off when her lips –god damn her lips brushed over my neck, bringing a flighty clench of teeth to my lips. At this point, I was struggling fruitlessly to escape her grasp, pressing back into her entrapping body and yelling something disorientedly processed by my slowly melting brain. And before I became vaguely aware of a painfully pleasurable sucking pressure just below my ear, I was abruptly, and not done gently at all, flipped around. Like a doll, not strong enough physically and mentally to snap out of this crazy haze and just knee her in the gut.

Because suddenly we were face to face – chest to chest –flush to flush –and being pulled into a bruising crash of lips. And her tongue –was in my mouth.

Her tongue.

My mouth.

EUHOOOh FuCK nOo!

My eyes were widened in a combination of shock and plain revulsion, brows furrowing and stomach clenching into a crushing spasm of oh god no. No, the resistance of my hard rock barrier did not just give into the absolute softness of this woman. No, my closest friend was not straight up molesting me at the moment. No I did not return in any way towards this form of assault. No I would not burn or brand this memory this moment into my memory. No, I was not ignoring the fact that I was taking advantage of a drunken lady. No I was not aware that Chloe has a boyfriend. And no –there was no enjoyment to this situation. At all. Natta. Nay. Neeigh.

But.

Sheesh.

Chloe Beale was warm.

And –there were stars everywhere, silver and black mingling and dancing with a dizzying sensation.

And now I couldn't really –think, and if I tried, all I got was this weird warm warm warmth. I was cold, and Chloe was warm. Survival required warmth. And warmth meant survival. Slinking eyes were closed, and I sinfully sank into the soft kiss with sigh through my nose. Every movement of her lips, up and down, pausing and pulling back only at the slightest to let in and out a heated harsh gasp of air through her mouth, then coming back just as fast to continue her assault. Her hands were tangled in my hair, rubbing and scratching into skin with every breathless moan let out. She was warm, or maybe I was just hot. Flushing a deeply rooted shade of red since the beginning of this –interaction? Why was –we were –where to how wha…

Then her hands let my wrists drop, and my arms were left to slump numbly at my side. Think. Think. Think. Think. Think. Think. Thank. Lank. Sank. Fake. Blank.

This is nice.

Not too bad.

Really warm.

I felt something snag at the hem of my shirt, a distinct "nnmf" was muffled through my lips, coming out as a throaty whimper which she seemed to only eat up in her drunkard state. The coherent thought's were returning from their slumber though, a something isn't righ –the warmth spread, and a powerful flinch of my muscle was released as a pair of damp hands slid under my shirt, rubbing upwards at my projecting ribs and side. It was as if the tips of her fingers had been heated to a boiling rate over a bewitched fire, every skim of her skin on mine leaving a blistering line of heat, crackling and sizzling and burning and smoldering at every growing moment of realization to oh my fucking god she's feeling me up.

This –my eyes snapped open. This, the gears and machinery to my brain were stitched onto surplus overload. This, my arms were instant to obey to the rationality of my mind, raised and summoning all energy into the one push that finally sent her flying and slamming into her door. In which –of course…

…she giggled to. Three heavy heart beats passed, and she soon entered the peaceful world of slumber with a loud snore, while I was left to the world of callous reality.

The door was swung open, and the only thing I could so was raise a hand to my swollen lips, swiping at cold spit that definitely. Did not. Belong to me.

M-m. No.

"Chloe? Beca? Wha-"

I didn't see her, and before she could see me I was already gone. Racing down the hallway and making a sharp turn into the bathroom, quickly racing to the nearest toilet before everything was hurled out from the day. Hunched over and gasping for breath, beyond the belief of actuality. This wasn't right. This did not just happen. Drunk. Not sober. She wasn't thinking. She isn't gay. And she most definitely does not think of me like that. She'll wake up with a hangover in which Aubrey will without a doubt help her with as she proceeds to not remember a single thing about the night before. Meaningless.

I pushed down on the lever, and instead of making my way out from the bathroom decided to pull the top of the toilet down. Plopping heavily down onto it, I could only bury my head into my hand scratching hard at my cheeks before leaning back and staring up at the florescent lights.

Didn't think I'd pass out, but –I passed out.

Awakened by the sound of giggling freshmen entering the bathroom. It was then I snapped awake with a grunt, unlocking the stall and stumbling out, wincing only slightly at the soreness and more at the sight of my complexion. And judging from the wandering eyes of the freshmen, yeah. I looked pretty bad.

"Get lost," was the only thing I could mumble before bending my head down to wash the leftover throw up from the day before. Wiping and scrubbing at my greasy face, using the commercial soap given to the side. Then, as the thoughts of the night before began to rise, I quickly pumped more soap into my hands, brushing at my lips and teeth fervently with a finger. "Gross, gross…"

"Oh hey Becs!"

I nearly sucked in a lung full of soap and water at the sound of her cheery voice vocalizing off the bathrooms tiled walls. Choking only momentarily at the liquid, I swiftly spit and rinsed before grabbing paper towel at the side and thoroughly wiping my face. It was after that when I finally turned to get a good look at the redhead.

…in which there was an awkward pause of does she remember? Apparently not because she came up to playfully "boop" at my nose (giving me a mini heart attack at the same time), and chuckling out a "Good morning sleepy head!"

"…mornin'."

The gaggle of freshmen walked out, dreadfully leaving me alone with this overbearing woman.

"Sooo like, how're you feeling?" I slowly and painfully awkwardly came to say while rubbing at the back of my neck. A clear sign of nervousness that Chloe immediately picked up.

"Oh you mean the hangover? Psh," she waved at me. "It faded away at around noon." Noon?! "I'm feeling much better now. My question however," she was looking me up and down, taking in my disheveled appearance of sweats and a loose tank top. "Are you feeling alright? It's not really like you to skip out on Bella rehearsals. Captain."

Concern laced her observing gaze, and I immediately averted her roaming eyes. "Yeah. Yeah –um, sorry about that. What time is it again?"

"Two o' clock," she immediately responded, a frown looking to be developed through my peripheral vision. "You sure your alright Beca? You're looking pretty pale."

Before I could respond, let alone take into account of what she was doing, she was stepping into my space again. And no no no no no, I did not want her anywhere near me. Get the fuck away from me. I did not want her fake hands on me. Don't want her sweet breath mixing with her fake lips, feeling and bringing these unnecessary sentiments to mind. Don't want anything to do with her. Simple and panicked. Frazzled and scared. Exhausted, weary, fatigued, starving, cold, sweaty, dizzy, clammy, hot, cold, boiling, chilled, shattered, nauseated…Don't -

"-fucking touch me!"

Her hand was retracted at once, wide eyes staring as she stepped back instinctively. "Beca…wha-"

Drunk. She was fake and drunk.

"Shit."

Instead of looking at her, I had a hand to my temple, the other coming to grasp sickly at the side of a sink. My legs were wobbling, her voice was faintly being comprehended, and then I was hunching onto the sink with two quavering arms before a black foreboding color was obscuring my vision. Nauseated, a groan hardly flying through my lips as everything came crashing with the final wave of exhaustion.

Her arms came under mine, pressing me to herself to keep from face planting to the ground.

Warmth spread.

Warm.

Fake.

Warm'n fake.

Heh.

...

..

.