Exam room one was relatively sound-proof, as Ivy learned that evening. Every so often a silhouette passed by, unidentifiable due to the Venetian blinds, but never did she hear a single sound minus the occasional beeping of the strange device attached to her wrist. True to her word, Dr. Myong had sent a nurse to change the transparent bag at the top.
She lay down and closed her eyes, trying to focus on nothing except falling asleep and waking up to find out this was some sort of strange nightmare, that she had simply slept in again, and that she was safe in England. There was no strange hospital, or a Dr. Myong, or whatever it was that they had inserted into her left hand. She had long since come to the conclusion that she was no longer in England or anywhere else in Europe, and by the design of the room, nowhere in Asia either. She had also come to the conclusion that this was most likely not the sixteenth century because of the technology, and her suspicion was confirmed when she asked the nurse what year it was. The reply had been... Well, it took a moment to sink in, but initially she had remained calm.
Truthfully, she was absolutely terrified.
2006. Ivy was somewhat amazed that she hadn't fainted on the spot.
'So everyone... Everyone I've ever known, is dead.' She thought to herself casually. After Vivian had left Ivy remembered that her sword was missing as well. Not quite sure if it was a good idea to ask about it, she tried to remember where it had been last, amazed that it had taken this long to remember what had been a part of her for such a long time. Try as she might, she could remember nothing before her eyes fluttered open and fixated on her Asian practitioner. Frustrated, she turned her back to the door, being careful not to jiggle the instrument on her hand.
"She said I nearly tore it out before," Ivy recalled out loud, touching the foreign object gingerly. It appeared to penetrate the skin, leading her to believe it was administering something into her bloodstream. 'That would be the liquid in there,' She surmised, looking at the IV bag. 'Whatever it is.' Her attention was stolen by the opening of her door. Another nurse escorting a strange looking cart entered the room.
"Hi there," She said, far more cheerfully than Ivy would've thought possible for nearly 8 PM. She began setting up the machine next to Ivy's bed, while the patient watched in fascination. The woman ripped open two tiny squares of paper and removed the packages inside them. "I'm just here to set this up. Can you lie down for me?" Ivy did as she was told, making herself as comfortable as possible on the bed. There wasn't very much give in the mattress.
"Ok," The nurse continued. She set the strange square devices down on the table, letting them rest upon the paper in which they came. "Now I need to open this a little bit," Her hands worked at the sides of Ivy's gown, easing the fabric open. The Englishwoman shivered a little, but it went unnoticed. The nurse placed one of the square objects on Ivy's side, just below her left breast. The second square, which seemed to have a sticky underside, was placed just above the same breast.
"What are those?" Ivy inquired. The nurse, whose identification tag couldn't be seen, smiled at her.
"Electrodes. I hook them up to this," The nurse showed Ivy a wire with a metal clamp on the end. She attached it to a metal tip on the top of the first electrode, then did the same for the other. "And then I turn this on." She bent over to plug the device in behind Ivy's bed, then righted herself and pushed a button belonging to a box on top of the cart. The screen flickered on, a royal blue panel for a moment, then a black screen with a series of lines of many colours. Large numbers were displayed to the right of each line. Some of the lines were flat, while two of them were consistently wavy. A beeping noise started up, sounding at what appeared to be every spike in the first line. "This is so we can monitor you from the front desk," The nurse informed her patient. Ivy watched the screen, nonplussed.
'What kind of world have I woken up in?' She wondered. 'How did I get here?' She was certain it was somehow related to that... that sword she'd been seeking, but her memory lapse prevented her from trying to piece together her final moments in the life she left behind. Ivy watched the nurse press more buttons, ending the sequence with one that said 'wireless output' and uttered a soft thank you as the nurse left, bidding her goodnight. Her head was beginning to hurt and her inability to remember was only serving to make her frustrated.
Yes, it had to be that sword. For months she'd been acting on the advice of that strange Moor man, the one wielded a scythe and attempted to burn down her lab. Such an intrusive cur! His words had lead her to the pursuit of Nightmare again, which despite the many whispers of the return of the Azure Knight, seemed to be only that: whispers. She'd been into more taverns across Europe than she could remember, (Although, the scars upon the many men who propositioned her remembered quite clearly.) heard every rumour from Lisbon to Prague, but always seemed to be just one step behind him. Here the events became quite fuzzy, and Ivy once again found herself becoming frustrated trying to remember. But in her mind was quite clearly imprinted that sword.
Damned if in her current, rather shamed state she could remember it's name.
Her tiredness overcame her and she fell into a very deep sleep.
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'Morning came too early again,' Vivian thought as she rolled over to shut off her alarm. She closed her eyes defiantly against the light coming through the translucent red curtains, which closed off her double bed from the rest of the loft. A pair of hands flew immediately to round almond eyes to rub the sleep from them. She freed one hand and pushed the curtain aside, bathing her in sunlight. She became aware enough at this point to put one foot in front of the other, walking herself into the bathroom.
Vivian toweled her hair dry over a bowl of cereal. Sticking the spoon between her lips, she sat down relatively gracefully on the couch, considering it was six in the morning.
Luckily, she had gotten more sleep the night before, because that infernal Dae Jang Geum was not on.
Damn that show...
Onara onara aju ona, Gadara Gadara...
Vivian forced herself to awaken from her half-sleep, turning on the TV in front of her. The LCD screen flashed to life, a line of Korean on a white background before fading to a man behind a mahogany desk.
"Annyeong hamnida. Hanguk..." The anchor spoke in precise, formal words. His suit looked too tight around his torso, and his slicked-back hair was rather greasy looking. Tiny glasses sat upon his nose.
Vivian tuned him out, her attention turned to a tiny bird picking at the feeder on her balcony. It hopped and skipped like a child around the tiny metal bowl, as if appraising the grain and picking those of the best quality. She smiled, then glanced back at the news, which was now broadcasting the weather. A much younger man stood outside in a black t-shirt. Wire rim shades hid his eyes.
Kim-Whatshisface. She couldn't be bothered to read the rest of the Hangul script.
What is it with these men and glasses?
But at least this one's not half bad...
'Calm down. You're attached, remember?' She chided herself for window shopping.
Though, when one received one phone call every two weeks, it was sometimes easy to forget. She looked down at her bowl of Cheerios, as if they were somehow responsible for her communication barrier.
Just now she realized that in the entire three minutes Mr. Twenty-something had been relaying the day's conditions, she had not heard a word of it.
"Great," She muttered, setting down her half-eaten cereal and walking over to the screen door. She slid it just enough to stick her head and arm outside.
"Sunny," She declared, sneezing. "With a chance of allergies." Sniffling, she closed the door and picked up her bowl, eating the rest and then depositing it in the sink.
Her loft was particularly empty, she decided as she pulled a pair of scrubs and a white lycra shirt.
Of course, living alone made for an empty home occasionally.
The apartment itself was almost entirely open, minus the guestroom and bathroom down the hall.
Vivian didn't mind open space.
It left her enough room to walk about freely in her skivvies.
Others didn't share that level of comfort. Hence, a paper paneled screen covered the doorway to the guestroom.
It was a fair size living space. The apartment was masked from view from the front door by walls on three sides, leaving about half a metre's space on the right side to get through. As one entered it, the kitchen cabinets dominated most of the right wall, leaving enough room in front of the screen door for a fridge and various pictures along the wall of her sisters and brothers, one of her parents, and of their house in Korea. An island took up some of the hardwood floor space. Some stools surrounded it, but they rarely saw use as Vivian usually ate over the sink.
Isn't that what everyone did nowadays anyhow?
A Japanese style table sat in front of the screen door, two cushions on either side. To the left of that was her coffee table, surrounded on three sides by black leather couch sectionals. Her wall TV hung above a bookcase in front of the polished cherry table. A stereo and CD tower made their home beside a grand piano in the upper left corner of the room. If one went directly south of the piano, they'd find a tiny hallway just off the middle of the room; home to the bathroom, the guestroom at the end of the hall, and in the corner adjacent to the instrument was Vivian's own bed.
Realizing that her hair was soaking the back of her shirt, Vivian shuffled into the bathroom and picked up a brush. She braided it quickly, made quick work of her teeth, and walked back to the island. Keys in one hand, a black helmet in the other, she moved towards the door, pausing to get a pair of ankle socks from the washing machine behind the exit. She set the helmet and keys down, swiftly putting on each sock and then encasing the feet in runners. The door closed behind her with a tiny click.
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'There's my baby,' Vivian thought as the elevator doors opened a minute later. She smirked, as the idea of her beloved Ducati being called a baby was indeed very laughable.
It's size was not.
Unless one was laughing nervously.
The ebony machine sat inside a chain-link cage, not too far from the elevator. Vivian stepped out into the parkade and fished in her pocket for her keys. The padlock was a little sticky, but the shackle released with a little bit of work, allowing the door to swing open. The intern walked inside and pushed her bike out. She relocked the cage and turned, taking a moment to run her hand along the leather seat.
There was a seat just behind it as well, made for a second rider.
Maybe someone would sit in that one too, if he ever bothered to call...
Already feeling adrenaline trickling into her system, Vivian set the helmet on her head and clicked the visor down. Her keys found themselves back in her pocket. With all of her weight she jumped on the kick-start and the machine responded heartily, roaring to life. The Korean smiled and swung her leg over, gripped the handles, and took off.
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The nice thing about a 7:30 start, Vivian decided as she dismounted, was that at such an early hour one could usually beat the traffic. Toronto, despite being horrifically busy, was still somewhat quiet at the tranquil hour of 7 AM. Even the leadfeet were still relatively docile.
Either that, or the sight of a 5'3" Asian woman straddling 196 kilograms of motorcycle left them stunned enough to drive decently.
Vivian strolled up to the triage desk after retrieving her white coat from the staff locker room. She walked behind the structure, over towards the coffee maker. She had just finished pouring herself a cup ('Regular strength, twitching hands be damned.') when she was startled by a rather imposing sounding voice.
The Emperor had returned.
"Still riding that death cycle, Vivian?" The Korean restrained her tongue and whirled around.
"Good morning Dr. Copeland," She greeted cordially, pretending she hadn't heard his question.
"Likewise. You've just arrived I assume?" He asked in a stiff tone. Vivian tried not to stare at the full, steaming mug of coffee in his hand.
"Yes," She said, pulled from her caffeine daydream by a phone ringing in the distance. She looked up at the man, who was a fair bit taller.
"Right then. I've taken you off trauma for the day, you'll be dealing with the little cases as they come in, and of course, your British friend down the hall." As he spoke he handed her a clipboard filled with various names and ailments, which she looked at briefly and set down.
God, he was arrogant.
Vivian now realized why she never saw a stethoscope around his neck.
The damn thing was surely up his ass.
"Of course. Has anyone checked on her yet?" Vivian asked, feeling slightly guilty for thinking that way about her superior.
"Last night LaTavia hooked her up to an ECG right after you left. A couple hours ago the feed to the triage desk flat lined, but when she went back in with a crash cart the patient had just rolled over." He paused to sip from his coffee.
That sweet, sweet brown caffeinated goodness...
"She might be awake now, if she heard your death cycle." He added.
Vivian decided she no longer felt guilty about her guess as to where his stethoscope had gone. She forced herself to smile.
"I'll go see her right now then." Her response sounded very forced, but the emperor must not have noticed. He nodded and walked away. She sipped the coffee and immediately felt the caffeine recharge her and numb the harshness of her welcome wagon's words. Now feeling slightly better, she began walking carefully to exam room one.
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"Nope, still asleep," Vivian mumbled, opening the door soundlessly. She tiptoed inside, shutting it behind her. Ivy was turned away from her, the blanket just beyond the small of her quite-bare back. Vivian set her coffee down on top of the patient's food table and turned her attention to the heart monitor. It had been turned off and the electrodes removed. Two bags now hung from the IV stand, presumably to make the change times less frequent. A rustling sound brought Vivian back to the exam room. She looked at Ivy, who had rolled to face her, bleary-eyed.
"Good morning," Vivian said cheerfully. She reached for her coffee and took a sip. Ivy pulled herself up and stretched, not realizing that the electrodes on her chest were missing. Had she noticed that, she probably would've assumed they were removed, and had she assumed that, she would've probably figured that they came off much the way they went on: by loosening the gown.
And had she figured that, she would've noticed that the collar was significantly slackened.
Sure enough, the collar fell down as the Englishwoman's arms went up, although they shot down so fast one wouldn't think anything had happened aside from her rapidly reddening face.
"Good morning," She replied, holding the fabric to her chest. Though she often found herself liking her English rose complexion, this was one of those times she longed to be anything but pale. Thankfully, Dr. Myong didn't seem to notice. "What time is it?" Ivy asked, stretching out a crick in her neck.
"Quarter to eight. Are you hungry yet?" Vivian asked, patting herself down in search of a pen. "Damn, forgot it..." She muttered. A squelching noise cut through the momentary silence like a knife through butter. Vivian looked to the source of the noise, which appeared to be Ivy's stomach.
"Well that answers that. I'll find you something, and I'll try to make it appetizing as well." Vivian smiled at her patient, who had crossed her legs and covered her stomach with both hands. "You don't have to be embarrassed about being hungry," Vivian said, looking slightly concerned. Ivy studied her practitioner.
"Are you always this nice?" Ivy inquired, immediately regretting the tone of voice she used. Vivian's right eyebrow quirked.
"I wouldn't be a doctor if I didn't want to help people," She answered, going over to the Venetian blinds. She opened them, revealing a hallway and other beds in the open air. "And according to my brother niceness runs in my family." She turned herself around to look at Ivy. The woman's toes peeked out from under the heavily mussed-up blanket. "A little bird told me you roll around a lot when you sleep, hey?" Ivy's eyebrows lowered in confusion, then returned to their natural positions.
"A nurse came in early this morning with a strange device on wheels. She seemed to think something was wrong." Ivy spoke through chain yawns.
"This thing," Vivian said as she pointed to the monitor. "Tells me your heart rate. If the spiked line goes flat while it's attached to a patient, their heart's stopped beating." She pointed to the crash cart near the door. "That's what we use when we're trying to bring the patient back."
"Bring them back? From death?" Ivy asked, both eyebrows jumping. "That's impossible."
"Not as impossible as you think," Vivian countered, stretching out her shoulders. "I've done it a few times myself."
"How?" Ivy's eyes narrowed. What kind of world had that sword brought her into?
"Electric shock," Vivian answered simply.
"Electric shock?" Ivy cried. "That's..."
"A little bit shocking, yes." Vivian finished. "No pun intended," She added as an after-thought. Ivy smirked. "But that's what that machine's for. Those handheld devices are paddles, and we place them on the patient's chest to deliver the electricity."
"How much?" Ivy inquired, scrutinizing the machine.
"We can set the charge on the machine, for as much is, and as many times are needed to resuscitate the person. It's quite an neat little machine," Vivian remarked, eyeing the white device. "Anyways, you're hungry," She observed, hearing the older woman's stomach again. "And I don't have a case for about 45 minutes. What do you want?"
"You're... you're not serious."
"To tell you the truth, I didn't eat very much this morning. I'm still hungry," Vivian revealed, feeling her stomach agree. "So I'd be going out anyways to get something for me. So," Vivian paused for breath. "What do you feel like today?"
Here Ivy was silent. Though her stomach was quite set on eating, her mind was indecisive.
"Do you like... muffins?" Vivian filled in.
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Fifteen minutes later the door swung open to admit one Vivian Myong, possessing two brown paper bags and a rather hot cup of Earl Grey. Ivy admired how true the Korean doctor was to her word, but could also ascertain another possible motive behind returning.
She'd left her coffee there.
Nevertheless, there were two bags on her person, one in her right hand and the other between her teeth. The intern set the cup down on the portable food tray and laid the bags down beside it.
"I think... Yeah, this one's for you," Vivian identified the contents of one bag. She pushed it closer to Ivy. The Englishwoman lifted one corner carefully, as if it were a bomb. She opened the bag entirely and pulled out her breakfast, feeling slightly foolish. Her eyes widened.
"Where did you get this?" She asked incredulously. Right there in the palm of her hand was an English-style muffin.
"There's a place a couple blocks away. They've got quite an assortment of pastries and what-not," Vivian replied, spreading some raspberry cream cheese on her bagel. She took a small bite. "I figured that was my best bet for finding something you'd eat." She watched the grateful Englishwoman gently pull it apart with her fingers. Ivy pushed a small piece of the muffin into her mouth. She subconsciously sighed her gratitude.
"Good," Vivian responded. She sipped at her still-warm coffee, eyes wandering outside to an ambulance. A team hurriedly lowered a gurney to the ground. A patient covered in foil was rapidly wheeled towards the door.
Flicking her gaze to the right she captured another intern ('Edward from CCU?') inhaling a full lung of the crisp, fresh morning air.
Well, it was as fresh as the air could possibly get in Toronto.
Sirens took her back to the ambulance bay. Another vehicle charged into the enclosed space, rapidly unloading what looked like another burn victim before speeding off again loudly. Three ER doctors came into view, rushing to the cart for a report. The group departed the bay just as quickly as they arrived.
"You are lost in thought, Dr. Myong." Ivy observed, sipping her tea. Vivian came back to exam room one.
"Hmm? Oh," She fumbled, searching for an excuse. "It's nothing really." She looked at the Englishwoman. There was something... refined about her, Vivian decided, but couldn't quite put her finger on it.
It made itself apparent even in the way she sat. Her back was perfectly straight, her shoulders up but not so much as to thrust her chest forward; one hand was folded gently across her lap while the other curled delicately around the paper cup. She brought it to her lips and tipped it, parting her lips just enough to permit access before closing them again.
Her accent was unmistakably English - Vivian knew that from the get-go. But it was a different sort of accent somehow. It was softer, more delicate than the East London Cockney often heard on television, with a slightly higher sounding inflection on her vowels. She spoke in a manner unlike the English people Vivian was acquainted with, her word choices reflected a higher level of consideration. Obviously, this woman was one to think before she spoke. The pitches on her words flowed nicely together, creating a unique melody in free time.
'You're English,' Vivian thought, 'But you're definitely a different breed.'
"So where do you get your hair done?" Vivian asked, breaking the silence. Ivy cocked an eyebrow.
"Hair done?" She inquired.
"You know, a stylist. Who does your hair?" Vivian clarified, using Ivy's response time to finish her coffee. She popped the last piece of bagel into her mouth.
"I knew a woman who would drop by when I called for her. I prefer it short, nothing terribly fancy." She said, putting a hand up to pull an unruly lock from her eyes.
"What does she charge for bleaching?" Vivian wiped her mouth on a napkin. Ivy's other eyebrow twitched.
"For what?"
"Bleaching."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"You know, stripping the colour from your hair," Vivian explained, a little bit shocked by her patient's reaction. 'She does know what I'm talking about... doesn't she? She's got to know, no one's hair is that white on it's own.'
"I've never done that," Ivy said.
'Yeah right, not even 32 year olds have hair that white already. She's pulling my leg.'
'What is she going on about? What's bleach?'
'You're obviously doing something though.'
"Are you sure?" Vivian prodded, breaking the momentary silence.
"Quite. I have no idea what you're talking about," Ivy insisted. She sipped her tea, finding comfort in it's warmth. Her eyes locked with the Korean's, never moving.
"... Alright. Just thought I'd ask." Vivian relented. 'She's embarrassed, that's got to be it.'
"Dr. Myong?"
"Yes?" She replied, sipping her drink.
"... What's bleach?"
It was a good thing Vivian had already swallowed, for if she hadn't the woman in front of her would smell like Irish Creme.
"W-what?" She spluttered wide-eyed, choking on a trickle in the back of her throat.
"Good morning Ms. Lakhani," Ivy greeted. Vivian turned in her chair.
"Oh, you can just call me Soneera. Good morning Dr. Myong, good morning Ivy." The Masala nurse said. Her hands were folded in front of her, a clipboard between the fingers. "This is for you to fill out for the patient record," She explained as she walked further into the room. She set the clipboard on Ivy's knees. "We need to do some routine checks and write those down there too. Dr. Myong?" Soneera asked, intending on letting the intern do the honours. But Vivian, it seemed, was once again away and pondering.
'She doesn't know what bleach is? I know they have it in England...'
"Dr. Myong?" Soneera said again, slightly louder. The doctor was unmoved.
'She hasn't ever heard of a defibrillator either. Surely she's seen one, on TV even. There's something odd about her. It seems she can read me like a-'
"Vivian." She jumped at the calm, low tone of Ivy's voice. Her eyes locked on the woman.
"Hmm? Yes?" Vivian fought to recover, brushing her offensive bangs behind an ear.
"You're supposed to conduct a routine check," Ivy restated Soneera's instructions.
"Oh," Vivian replied quietly, head down. She prayed her face wasn't red. "Right." She stood up and removed her stethoscope from it's perch on her shoulders. She set her cup down and put the instrument on. "Ok, I'll start with the heart and respiratory. This may be a little cold," Vivian warned, positioning herself so that her front created a right angle with Ivy's left shoulder. She placed the end of the stethoscope just above Ivy's breast. "Breathe normally," The Korean requested. Ivy did so, filling her lungs and emptying them again three times in succession.
"Again," Vivian said, moving the instrument to Ivy's right side, then onto her back. "Good. Soneera, could you hand me a cuff please?" The nurse moved across the room silently and opened the cabinets until she found what she wanted. Wordlessly she placed the instrument in Vivian's outstretched hand. The doctor removed the device from Ivy's back, letting it fall against her shirt. She wrapped the navy blue pressure cuff around Ivy's toned bicep. Attached to the cuff was a thick metal wire and what looked like a sort of hand pump. Vivian squeezed it rapidly several times, until a noticeable but still comfortable pressure was exerted on her patient's arm.
"What does that do?" Ivy asked, her curiosity spiked.
"It allows me to check your blood pressures," Vivian explained, looking at first the tiny dial on the cuff, then at the clock. "125 systolic," The doctor reported. She squeezed the pump again, maintaining the pressure on Ivy's arm and repeated this process. "Ok. 84 diastolic." The Korean removed the device and put it on the eating table, beside her finished coffee. Soneera picked up the pen and clipboard. She jotted a few notes at the bottom of the paper. "Right. Let's move onto your temperature," Vivian walked over and perused another cabinet, finally removing a handheld device. It tapered at one end into a tiny but blunt point. With her other hand Vivian found two tiny paper thin caps for the tip. She slipped one of the caps on and walked back to Ivy's bedside. Ivy turned to look at the device, half curious and half apprehensive.
"This won't hurt," Vivian told her, sensing some discomfort. She gently turned her patient's head to allow the device to fit inside Ivy's ear. She pressed a button and the instrument emitted a tiny beep; soon afterward the LCD screen lit up with a number. Vivian walked to the other side of the bed and did this again. "Temp's normal too," She remarked, making Soneera's hand fly across the page for a second time.
"I can handle the rest of this," The nurse offered, gaining the attention of both of the other women. "Copeland's got a patient for you, and the police are going to come in soon for the kit and a victim statement." Ivy looked away.
"Alright," Vivian agreed, feeling strangely reluctant to do so. She chalked it up to not wishing her patient to be apprehensive and left it at that.
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The teenager stood against the wall rebelliously, across from the exam table. Physically she wasn't very tall, unless one counted her extravagantly piled hair, which as a mass of black ribbon and product, seemed to be an entity of it's own. Were it not for the copious amount of make-up and numerous eyebrow, nose and mouth rings, one may have thought she was in mourning: every article of clothing, including her tall boots, was jet black.
'God bless the Harajuku girls,' Vivian prayed sarcastically as she opened the door. According to the report from triage, this case was ugly.
Triage was known for gross understatements.
"Good morning, I'm Dr. Myong," Vivian greeted stiffly. The physician's mask had a rather tight, thick elastic band. A slight tweaking in the wrong direction would make it painfully snap. The nameless girl clicked her gum. Had it been earlier, Vivian's eyes may have interpreted
"So you're in for... an infection?" Vivian tried again, referring back to a chart in her hands. "Can I take a look?" The girl maintained her silence, but took off her jacket and lifted her shirt. She turned her back to the doctor.
Vivian didn't care for piercings herself. She was perfectly content with the single holes in her ears, but her open-mindedness also told her that on the right sort of person, a nose stud or eyebrow ring could look fairly good, maybe even add to their appearance. However:
A corset piercing, an infected corset piercing, did not look good on anyone.
Vivian pulled on a new pair of latex gloves and gingerly pulled at the bow of the adornment. The teasing made red, horribly swollen skin around the metal holes become even more inflamed. A white substance secreted from the flesh.
'I really don't think that trauma case was worse than this,' Vivian decided. "Please lie down."
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Author's Notes: My apologies for the delay in publication! I worked on this chapter in bits and pieces, and computer problems on top of that impeded my progress.(See my explanation in reviews) But, chapter three is completely done and coming soon, shortly followed by chapter four. I'm starting to unfold some of the separate sub-plots within these next few chapters, which will be better explored as the story really kicks off. Reviews are not required, but quite appreciated, as it not only gives me feedback, it reassures me that more than one person took the time to open the link.
Good night!
hua-hua