Wrote half of this while loopy with fever. halp. please forgive my inability to imagine or describe clothing, it is definitely not my area of expertise. anyway, please enjoy this newest installment. As always, questions, comments, suggestions, etc are appreciated and loved. 3 Common human names for countries used. Lots of new characters introduced.
Rather than confront directly, Lovino scrabbled up the steps into the doorway of the adjacent building, then boosted himself off the railing onto a windowsill ten feet off the ground. Wind ripping at his clothes, he swung himself onto the window alongside, catching a hold of the bottom of the shutter of the window above. In this fashion, he scaled the wall, one movement jerking into the next with a strange grace, until he heaved himself up to the roof of the building.
Gilbert could only watch from below. He drew his dagger, following the lithe shape of his partner as he jogged toward the alley.
Lovino halted, one hand clenched tight around his goggles. He pointed to Gilbert then to the alleyway. His lips formed silent words. "I'll distract them. Get my friend out of there."
Gilbert held up a hand—a signal to wait. Sheathing his dagger, he tossed it upwards. "Don't fucking steal this," he mouthed back.
Lovino had to lean to catch it. He stuffed the sheath in his pocket and drew the blade. "I'll try not to."
Then he vanished toward the other side.
As Gilbert approached the alleyway, the screaming became louder, no longer snatched by the torrent of wind but confined in the quiet still space between the shelter of buildings. The woman in question was about his age, though petite. Her hair, once blonde, had been shorn in odd places and caked with the same blood that seeped down into torn clothes. Weaponless, she held up her hands in surrender, tears long since dried, bloodied lips pressed into a thin line.
Gilbert plastered his back to the wall, just around the corner, and waited.
Muffled grunts. The thud of metal into flesh and subsequent gurgling yowl. Lovino had landed on one man's shoulders, blade swinging in a wide slash to cut at another's face as the first went down. He leapt to his feet but fell into a crouch to dodge the third man, just as Gilbert rounded the corner again.
"Hurry the fuck up," Lovino screamed.
Without glancing back, Gilbert swept the woman from her feet and ran. He heard the slap of bare feet and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lovino catch up then pass him, the dagger clenched in one bloody fist.
The pair skidded to a halt in the midst of a swirl of sand. Alfred stood in the seat of a small vehicle that wheezed with impatience at the turn of a key. "Get in—"
They crawled into the clumsy contraption, which creaked and swayed with the movement then lurched forward as Alfred punched the gas. It took some work, but together, Lovino and Gilbert were able to grapple with the heavy cloth pinned to the back of the vehicle, lashing it down to the frame above to form an enclosed carriage that protected them from the abrasive onslaught of sand.
The woman still in his lap, Gilbert leaned against the back, panting harshly. "That was—" A few deep breaths did little to calm a racing heart. "That was kind of intense. Lovino I didn't know you had something like that in you—"
When Lovino did not respond, he probed him with a questioning look. The other was pale, staring at his reflection in the dull, reddened blade of the dagger.
Gilbert put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey," he murmured. "Lovino…hey. It's okay. You did what you had to do." He wrestled his canteen free and pressed it into the other's hands. "Drink up, alright? I'll tend to your friend here."
Unexpectedly, she was awake, watching the pair interact calmly, lips still clenched tightly. A trembling hand snaked up to brush bangs from her eyes, the other holding tightly to the tattered edges of the front of her shirt, knees drawn up to her chest.
Gilbert helped her shift from his lap into the space between himself and Lovino. "Are you alright?"
She nodded. Once. Blank eyes slid over to the canvas wall.
Around them, the vehicle rattled and swayed. The wind howled against their makeshift cave.
Alfred, peering through the glass panel at the front, leaned forward as if that would help him concentrate. "Hey, Gilbert. I just become the third criminal in this group. Stole an entire car. God, what is Arthur going to think about this newest misadventure."
"I'm not a criminal," Gilbert shot back.
A rough cough indicated that Lovino had finally tried a swig from the canteen. He wiped at his mouth, eyes burning, then pounded against his chest. "You asshole, this isn't water."
"You looked like you needed something stronger than that," he replied with a little shrug. He watched, amused, as Lovino took another few sips, then set it down. The woman refused when offered.
They drove in silence.
Half an hour later, Alfred cleared his throat. "We're just about out of town and the wind is finally dying down."
"Does that mean we'll meet your friends soon?" Gilbert asked. He glanced over to find that both Lovino and the woman were asleep, heads leaned together, both utterly exhausted. He did not have the heart to pry the dagger from the sleeping thief's hands, lest he wake him, though he did take his hat and jam it on his own head. Collateral.
"Yeah, pretty soon," Alfred answered. "Hey, I know this is hard for you."
"Everything is one giant clusterfuck," Gilbert agreed. "You don't know what I would give to be a soldier again." His bird scratched along the top of his head, safe beneath the hat. "I guess I'm just paying the price for my misdeeds.
"Gilbert," Alfred said, glancing back at him. "If you hadn't disobeyed those orders, the guilt would have consumed you. You're a good man."
"No, only a damned good soldier," Gilbert muttered. "Or was."
"It was a difficult decision to make," Alfred said. He shrugged a little bit, shoulders relaxing. The rattle of the car intensified as pavement bled into gravel. He felt his teeth chatter. "Men are not machines. Neither are soldiers."
Gilbert groaned. "Don't give me another one of your faith in humanity speeches, Alfred. I might actually punch you in the face."
Lovino shifted as the car faded to a sputtering stop and Alfred began tugging away the canvas. Fresh sunlight poured into his face.
"Goddamn…" He sat up.
The town was a blot on the hazy horizon, the road a singular vein in a stretch of cracked desert.
Gilbert rubbed at squinted eyes. "Alfred, I don't see anyone."
The scuff of shoes announced the arrival of a lone figure, which seemed to materialize from their left. He wore a long red coat adorned with golden accents, which covered belts of daggers and knives slung over his hips. A dark complexion, easy grace, and disheveled curly hair were secondary to vivid green eyes that sparked from suspicion to curiousity. His hand loosened around the pole of a tall ax that he held at his side.
"Hello Alfred." His tone was curt, but his eyes narrowed. A lilt brought music to his voice. He appraised the ragtag group, lips tugging into a grin as his eyes met Gilbert's. "Gilbert Beilschmidt."
"…Antonio Carriedo?"
"Whoawhoawhoawhoa, you know him already?" Alfred asked.
"We met. Once." Antonio answered with a wave of his hand. "What's your business?"
Lovino felt his cheeks burn when Antonio's gaze fell on him. He sank further in his seat, one hand on his friend's elbow.
"Abel and I were chatting the other day," Alfred said, "He said you guys were about to start up some shenanigans again. I brought you a thief and an ex-soldier who will offer up their services in exchange for protection."
Antonio's eyes only narrowed again, but he took a few steps forward, appraising the two. "Gilbert I know I can trust. And the other one looks innocent enough. But Alfred," his grip tightened around his ax, "I'm confused by your insistence of straddling this line. Either you're on our side or you're with the government."
"I'm on my own side," Alfred replied, grinning. "Cool, well anyway, I have to return this car that I may or may not have stolen. Good luck kiddies." He helped Lovino and his friend onto their feet, clapping the thief once on the shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll be completely safe here. Antonio can be a little intense, but it's only because he believes in his cause. You'd probably like him."
Antonio waited until the car was little more than a plume of dust on the horizon before gesturing behind him. He knocked against thin air, which bellowed back. The desert scene shorted out to reveal the metal hull of an old ship hovering inches off the ground, anchored by a single rope tied to a rock. Old solar-powered sails sagged against aged masts, no wind to tug life into them.
"Hot damn," Gilbert said.
Nearby, Lovino also breathed his surprise. His friend blinked, shielding her eyes from the sun to look up at it.
"Really, it isn't much," Antonio said, though his smile was earnest. He helped them aboard, smashing a button on his way up the ramp to conceal the ship once again.
Inside was cramped, rooms smashed into one another, hallways tight. Both Lovino and Gilbert had to duck in places to avoid knocking their heads on low pipes and squeeze past open doors intruding upon already limited space.
"To be honest," Antonio started, "I've got a new beauty already picked out. It'll take some work, but one day she and the skies will be mine once again." He tapped the blade of his ax against a metal door. It echoed dully. "Hey, crew, we've got company."
Wheel creaking, the door swung open. A tall man with spiked hair ducked his head out, one brow raised but expression otherwise nonchalant, then waved them in. He slouched back into his chair, where long limbs splayed comfortably out. "Alfred finally come to his senses?" Several onlookers watched silently.
Antonio shook his head. "No, but he dumped a few recruits on us. Abel, see to it that they know what we expect of them."
"Didn't know we were taking just anybody these days," the man answered with a little sneer.
Antonio pressed his lips into a thin line. "We can discuss this later, if you'd like." His coat swished as he turned to leave.
Abel rolled his eyes. "Well, take a seat, I guess." He watched as the three filed into the remaining chairs around a long table. The maps plastered around the walls were curled with age.
The other occupants of the room sat drinking something cloying from little tankards. Abel introduced them, waving a freshly lit cigarette at each person as he spoke. The smoke twisted about the room.
"Okay, well we have Elizabeta, her annoying man-child Roderich, Francis, and Lili. I, of course, am Abel. The exotic prick out there is Antonio."
Roderich, the 'manchild', looked pissy at his introduction, but Lili, a seemingly innocent young girl with pink ribbon in her hair, grinned up at the trio with a little wave.
"So, what exactly is the aim of this little group?" Gilbert asked. "I like to know what I'm getting into."
"If we're doing this properly," Roderich said, "I'd like to know exactly who I'm speaking to first."
Gilbert groaned, then pointed to himself. "Fine. I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt. That over there is Lovino, and hell if I know what his friend's name is."
"Her name is Belle," Lovino said. Quietly. "Maybe someone should tend to her before we get too far into this." His tone was polite, but Gilbert noticed the slight tensing of his shoulders.
He realized that Lovino was uncomfortable; with a strange tinge of sadness, he realized there was nothing he could do to remedy the situation—couldn't offer a shoulder to lean on or a hand to hold. Instead, he stood and repeated Lovino's request. "Yeah, someone make sure Belle here gets something warm in her stomach and bandaged up and clothed. She's been through a shit ton of crap recently."
Abel nodded. "Explaining everything is tedious. I'll do it." He lifted her effortlessly and ducked out of the room with a graceful twist to accommodate her legs.
"I guess I'll take over," Elizabeta said. Sly green eyes flickered to the pair, a devious smile on her lips. She wore a grey high-waisted ruffled skirt that draped low in the back, but swooped short in the front, where pants fitted with belts and thigh holsters gripped pistols and a series of daggers. Her shirt, peach, was a simple extension of the skirt, buttoned fairly high on her collar sleeves lacking ruffles or adornment. Her hair was dirty-blond and curly. "Okay," she said, leaning forward. "Gilbert, is it? And Lovino. Here's the situation. One of more of us are on the wrong side of the law." She put a finger to Roderich's lips before he could protest that statement. "Most of us. And our aim here isn't anything terribly big at the minute. We're just interested in…liberating some funds from a few people who have had it better than they deserve. And maybe padding our pockets a little bit in the process of redistributing them to those who need a bite to eat."
"So no total take-down of the government, then?" Gilbert scoffed.
"Not with this sad lack of men and resources," Elizabeta said. "Baby steps." She crossed her legs with a dramatic little sigh. "Precedence has taught us not to bite off more than we can chew, anyway. Not yet."
Roderich, who had been digging into his pocket to find his timepiece, furrowed a brow at the watch. He tapped at it with his fingernail and, when that did not work, knocked it several times against the table.
Elizabeta glanced toward him. "What's wrong?"
"My timepiece has stopped working," he answered with a frown. He stood to leave.
Finally Francis spoke up. He was a lanky male, blond hair long, face just slightly scruffy. He wore a simple vest around a white shirt, and pants that made no obvious indication of weaponry. "Lord knows how we'll all fit on such a small ship. But I think Antonio has plans of landing somewhere relatively safe tonight."
"Landing?" Gilbert asked. "Meaning as in we're in the air right now?"
Francis raised one eyebrow but nodded. "Of course. For an old, rusty thing, she flies smoothly. And quickly. Tents and campfires are preferable to the cramped conditions in here, especially as the cold of night settles in."
"And you're not worried about wind?"
Francis shook his head. "No. The village we're visiting is fairly sheltered. Mountains, you see. And lush trees and rivers. Even if there is wind, sand won't accompany it."
Lovino, whose eyes had been dull, head tilted downward, jerked to attention. "We won't be in a desert?"
"No, I'm afraid not." He clapped his hand on Lovino's shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. "Your view of the world is going to get a whole lot bigger if a desert is all you can imagine." His touch lingered as he stepped out of the room.
The others filed out, though Lili hesitated to give a little curtsy to the pair of them. "It's nice to meet you. Please don't betray us." The way she tapped the hilt of the single dagger holstered at the hip of her ruffled dress sent chills down Gilbert's spine. He could only nod, mouth suddenly dry.
"Well, I guess this is a less shitty shithole than before, anyway," he finally said, glancing over at Lovino.
The prospect of silence was overwhelming, especially when Gilbert did not know what the other was thinking—but then there it was, emotion overflowing from where he'd tried to contain it. Uneasiness, excitement, fear. His body trembled with each breath he gulped down.
Again, Gilbert had a strange urge to comfort him in some way. He lifted a hand to squeeze his shoulder, but hesitated, throwing it behind his head to scratch an imaginary itch. "Lovino…? Are you okay?"
Lovino shook his head. "Don't be such a nosy asshole," he snapped, shoving himself upright. "I—I'm going to go figure out where the hell I'm supposed to even sleep."
It ended so that the ship slowly docked in a valley caught between two massive mountains. The group tumbled from the ship and began to drive nails into the ground to pitch their tents.
Antonio had Lovino help him gather firewood, which the thief did with little reluctance, as he was fascinated by the deep green-blues of heavy pine, their perfumes teasing the chilly air. Francis did what he could to kindle a small fire with what they had, then sat gathering ingredients to cobble something together in a giant pot. Lili and Elizabeta went out to set some traps. Abel remained inside, looking after Belle, who was stable but refused to—or could not—speak.
Gilbert sat on a stump that he had found, trying to soak in a little bit of warmth. He'd allowed his coat to sag from his shoulders and slump around his waist. The cold air revived him—reminded him of long marches through the snow where the stamp of boots and holler of voices formed a natural rhythm and everything was predictable.
He barely noticed when the stump wobbled.
Roderich had chosen to sit by him. He watched as the second hand on his watch slowly jerked into motion, hours behind the correct time. "Gilbert, is it?" he asked. He coiled the chain in his hand, snapping the lid shut. It ticked on quietly.
Gilbert jerked his head up. "Yeah, that's me."
"Right." The other adjusted his glasses then stuffed his watch back into the pocket of his longcoat. He wore an unnatural amount of purple.
Royal wannabe, Gilbert thought, though he kept his expression neutral.
"I like to consider myself well-read. Well-traveled," Roderich began.
It took everything in Gilbert not to groan as loudly as he could.
"So I thought I would inform you of a few things," he continued. "I used to be a nobleman—"
That explained more than a few things. This time Gilbert really did groan. "Look, is there a point you're trying to make or are you prattling for the sake of prattling? I've had a really long, confusing day already."
Affronted, Roderich opened and shut his mouth, then opened it again. "There is most certainly a point," he said. "The point is that I am the last one left from the previous resistance group. The one that mounted the failure of the coup d'état against the current king—"
"Why in the hell would a noble participate in a throw-down of the government that fucking spoonfeeds him?"
"To be honest, I was more than certain that Corrado would win. I didn't want to fall with the rest of them. When our attempts fell flat, I was wanted for treason. I fled."
Gilbert pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Corrado…Corrado…I know that name. Fought against him when I was still pretty low in rank." He raised a brow. "His army was miniscule. A bunch of angry peasants. What made you think that he would win? Are you some kind of idiot?"
"I feel like it now," Roderich answered, shaking his head. "But he claimed to know some kind of weapon. Something that resided in a boy that could bring the world to its knees, break the wills of the people. I saw what that boy could do in person. He could break people just by looking at them. Reduce them to nothing more than soulless flesh and bone. Corrado was going to use him to his advantage."
Gilbert swallowed. "What does this have to do with me? The past is in the past. Corrado is dead. Assassinated. No such kid has ever been on record of ever having existed, no matter what twisted reasoning you all had."
"I told you. I met him. It's a long story, but one of the ways that we…knew we were close to this boy, was if perfectly functioning watches ceased working. Sometimes machinery. That thief you have with you. He's dangerous." He stood, suddenly cold.
"You're spouting a bunch of bullshit," Gilbert said. "Lovino might be a bit of an asshole or whatever, but that's a whole new level of idiotic. And don't you go spreading that kind of lie around the crew either. I'll take it as a personal offense."
"I just thought I would warn you is all," Roderich said. With a terse smile, he lumbered off toward the ship again.
Gilbert could not help but tug on the chain of his own watch, surprised to see it chipping away at the minutes, second by second, though indicating a completely wrong time. "That proves nothing," he muttered.
His bird poked his head from under the hat and squawked. With a little sigh, Gilbert removed him and held him in cupped hands, watching the glow of the fire glance across metal pieces. "Can you believe that guy? Yeah sure something might be a bit weird about Lovino—but he created you. Something as evil as whatever the hell that guy was talking about wouldn't have been able to do this." He huffed for good measure. The bird only chirped up at him and nuzzled his thumb.
However, he could not resist checking his watch again when he heard the gusty shout of the captain, announcing the arrival of firewood. The moment he saw Lovino trailing him, grappling with more logs than his arms could carry, he noticed that the watch had ceased functioning again. He frowned. "Doesn't mean anything. Just means I'll never fucking know what time it is when he's around is all."
With a loud grunt, Lovino released the logs to clatter onto the ground. Proud of himself, he clapped his hands together and plunked himself down on the log beside Gilbert. Antonio, grinning wildly, hoisted a few over his shoulder and nudged them into the fire.
"So our thief is a pretty hard worker," Antonio said, clapping Lovino on the back.
"Course I am," Lovino said. He scowled, but there was pride in his voice.
Before long, Elizabeta and Lili returned. "Traps have been set!" The first announced, twirling a dagger around her finger. She unhooked a few rabbits from her belt, swinging by their feet. "Also, did a bit of archery practice and scored something for dinner."
Francis, who had been wrapping potatoes in crinkly sheets of metal, nodded appreciatively. "It's been a long time since I've had rabbit." He took a long, curved knife, and began to dress them accordingly, fashioning a rotisserie apparatus from shoots of young saplings he found on the edge of the forest.
In the meantime, Elizabeta went to check out the ship, returning with Abel and Belle, but shaking her head, exasperated. "Roderich is in a pissy mood. He won't have dinner with us right now."
"S'for the best," Abel said. "Wonder what's got his panties in a bunch this time."
He blinked, surprised yet somehow oddly touched, when Belle, who had been walking as if she was his shadow, suppressed a little laugh at his words. Suddenly embarrassed, he rubbed at the back of his neck. "So there's life in you, yet."
Her lips only pressed into a little line, but she sat with him around the fire to watch Francis work.
"She's usually very talkative," Lovino murmured to Gilbert.
Gilbert caught the pained grimace on the other's face. "She's been through a lot. I wouldn't be doing much talking either if I were in her shoes."
"S'all my fucking fault," Lovino said. His voice cracked.
This time Gilbert put a hand to his shoulder, fixing him with an intense stare. "Shit happens. You're the reason she survived all that shit. You went back to save her. And she's here and alive. Don't you fucking have a pity party on me." His expression softened, and he offered Lovino the corner of his handkerchief, which the other used to wipe at his eyes.
A cool breeze settled mist into the little valley, but the fire kept a little orb of dry warmth around them. The aroma of cooking meat and the sizzle of fat into the fire lit appetites and good nature. Antonio and Francis sat singing boisterously between swigs of ale, the others of the crew occasionally joining in, though mostly laughing uproariously at bad lyrics and slurred lines.
When the meat and potatoes were handed out, Gilbert began wolfing his down, appreciative of the spices that made tender food explode with flavor. He made a mental note that Francis was his new favourite person, and the only man to be trusted with food. Even Lovino put a dent in his meal and somewhat sheepishly joined in on some of the tunes that he recognized, a little reluctant smile just barely touching his lips.
And Gilbert, watching him, felt something settle into his chest, an unexpected appreciation for the way his hair curled at his ears and the fine point of delicate features, eyes bright and full of life though his face was dirty. All of this the fire lovingly caressed, swathing in warmth, collecting dark pools in the hollows of cheeks, but surging and receding again with the dance of the flame.
The albino's breath hitched. He was beautiful. He looked away, focusing on his last few bites of potato, cursing when the steaming bits stung his mouth.
Lovino glanced over. "The hell?"
Gilbert shook his head. "S'nothing—"
"Whatever." He turned back.
Gradually the evening lulled with the glow of embers and satisfied pirates lounging against one another, ale warm in their stomachs, lashes fluttering closed. Abel remained alert, however, sitting off to one edge. Keeping watch, he'd put it, calling Antonio an idiot for trying to leave them vulnerable.
Gilbert had nodded, appreciative, and volunteered for second watch.
Although the silence was comfortable, Gilbert turned to nudge Lovino with his hand. "Hey. You."
"What? Trying to sleep." His lids fluttered open then shut again. He had not had much alcohol, but the sum of the day's events were catching up with him. Slowly, his head sank onto Gilbert's shoulder.
"Not until you get into your tent, dumbass," Gilbert said, fondly. "The life of sleeping out in the open is over for you. Don't forget that."
"Hmm…"
He did not protest when Gilbert hefted him up and carried him toward one of the closer tents. The grass beneath the floor crunched at the onslaught of his knees as he crawled. He tucked a burlap blanket around Lovino's body then flopped down beside him. "You still better give me my dagger back," he reminded the other.
"Yeah yeah," Lovino said. He pulled it from his pocket and blindly dropped it somewhere nearby. "Happy now?"
"Yeah," Gilbert answered, tossing the hat toward Lovino's head. He soaked in the silence with a little yawn. "Oi. I know it's late. But I wanted to ask you something."
"Hm?"
"Watches. They don't work when they're around you—"
"Hell if I know anything about that. I can't afford a fucking watch. Never bothered to steal one. Time is kind of meaningless if you have no schedule."
Gilbert's brow furrowed. He rolled so that he was on his back, hands clasped behind his head as he stared at the point of the tent. "Makes sense."
"S'at all?"
Gilbert thought a moment. "Where were you before the whore house? How did you…end up there?"
"I don't really remember," Lovino murmured. With a dozy sigh, he curled into a little ball. "Met Belle one day when I was wandering around the city. She…had the idea to help me out. Put her neck on the line like that so that I could have something to eat. S'how I became a thief. I was still pretty young then…was like 8 years ago. Been living like that ever since."
"But you don't remember anything before that…?" Gilbert asked.
The blanket rustled as Lovino shook his head. "Not really. It's all fuzzy, though sometimes I have dreams of fancy furniture and sparkling chandeliers. Wishful thinking, I guess."
"S'weird," Gilbert said. "Get some sleep."
The other was already out.
Gilbert did manage to get in a few hours until he stirred out of habit. Ready to take the second watch, he emerged from the tent to find that only a tiny sliver of moon glanced across a thick carpet of mist, and that the fire had died to nothing but a hint of smoke. All was still.
He approached Abel, taking care to quietly announce his presence. He'd seen the pistols in his belt; he figured it would not be wise to sneak up on him. "Hey," he said, "I'm here to take my part of the watch."
Abel nodded, smoke twisting up out of his pipe. "Good. Elizabeta will relieve you in about 4 hours time."
Abel inhaled again with a little nod, but tensed at a figure emerging from the ship to meet a broad-shouldered man who had just climbed through the thicket into their camp. His posture was staunch, silhouette crisp. He spoke in a booming yet gentle voice, just barely indiscernible for distance.
"That's Roderich," Abel muttered. "Talking to someone." He whipped the pistol from his belt. "C'mon. I hope you know how to stand your ground."
There would be no easy concealment, so the pair walked straight up to the others. Roderich stepped back, blinking, as they emerged around the other end of the ship. Abel leaned an elbow against the hull, one brow raised as he took a long drag of his pipe. "So. Roderich. Meeting men in the moonlight? What will Elizabeta think?"
Gilbert did not hear his stumbling answer, for he was staring into sharp blue eyes set into a familiar face—a man dressed in full military dress, the stripes on his shoulder a plain statement of advanced rank and the iron cross pinned to his chest identical to the one in Gilbert's pocket.
"Ludwig. What the hell are you doing here?" Gilbert said.
The other tensed, but fell back a step. He covered his initial surprise with a cold nod and even colder eyes. "Hello, brother."