Author's Notes: This one is different from the rest. We're taking a small step away from the Holy Grail War to delve into the past. They do that a few times in Fate/Zero, but I felt it appropriate here. That I wanted an excuse to write Royai. Who can spot the Hamilton quote because I'm trash?


good men don't become legends
in war we find out who we are


Ed isn't afraid of heights and he doesn't think a little fall will kill his Servant, but he does wish that the man would step away from the edge of the roof. They're seven stories up, the cold wind whipping around them furiously, and Caster is crouched down gazing across the street with a strange type of intensity. His dark eyes are focused, but confusion still struggles to the surface. It's a bit like when Ed was younger and would look at his father's mage books: he knew what he was looking at and yet he still didn't understand what it meant.

Forcing himself forward, Ed leans his arms against the concrete and peers down were Caster is focusing. His elbows just barely avoid touching Caster's expensive-looking black dress shoes. Despite being absorbed by whatever he's feeling, he must not be too concerned if he's still wearing the modern clothes he settled on. Still, crouched down, his own arms resting on his knees, Caster is an attack waiting to launch. Ed can feel it in the coil of his gut. Caster may appear at ease, but he's ready to fight at any given notice. It's a new side to his Servant that Ed hasn't seen yet and catches him off guard.

"What's down there that's so interesting?" Ed asks.

Caster has been silent since the park, even when they dropped Al off back at home and Ed convinced him that he needed to stay behind. It's a bit unsettling when it comes to a man who seems to thrive off speaking. Now though, he inclines his head in the direction of the hotel across the street. "Why don't you look for yourself and tell me?"

Grumbling under his breath, Ed leans forward and looks down. A black car pulled up to the front of the building moments ago. An older woman stepped out to speak with the lobbyist inside, most likely to procure a room, and is just now returning to the vehicle. She's small, probably would only come up to Al's head even when he's in a wheelchair, but Ed can somehow tell that she's a mage. He doesn't know how to describe what he feels; except that it's something he can tell in his bones. Maybe it comes with coming from such a long line of mages.

When the front and back passenger doors open, two more people step out. Both with long blonde hair, the younger of the two is thin, wearing a skirt and jacket, her hair pulled up in a pony tail. She stretches her arms above her head, like she's been in the car for a long time, and then looks up at the taller woman, reaching for her hand and then pointing to the building. The older woman's hair hangs loosely over the shoulders of her dark blue blazer. She's wearing a decent suit, though nowhere near as fancy as Caster's. It looks more professional than flashy like his.

"A Servant, a Master, and her granddaughter?" Ed surmises.

Caster nods his head. "So it appears."

"What do you want to do?"

Ed surveys the area. While it's not in the heart of the city, it's still relatively a public area. Any fight they get into here could be problematic. It's best when battles are fought in places that can't draw the attention of the crowd, lest the Church that supervises the Holy Grail War has a fit. He knows all about those idiots. They like to stick their fingers in where they don't belong all the time, all under the belief that the War is theirs to watch over. He wonders who in their group has the command seals.

When Caster doesn't respond, Ed glances over at him again. He's surprised to see the older man clenching his fists again. He looks…strangely pained. And very aggravated. He doesn't know why he's feeling the way he does. The expression on his face reminds Ed of his mother's a year after his father left. The fresh pain was gone, but a hollow and never healing wound was left in its place. What is Caster's problem? Well, there is only one way to find out.

Without any warning, Caster stands up – and then steps right off the ledge of the building. Ed chokes on a shout, jerking half his body over and grasping onto the concrete tightly, and watches as Caster smoothly cuts through the air, the air around him glowing as he shifts out of modern day attire and into clothes that are more suitable for him. By the time he lands on the sidewalk across the street from the three other people without a sound or flinch, he's wearing some sort of blue and gold get up that looks like some sort of two piece robe.

Groaning to himself, Ed throws himself back and digs his fingers into his hair. Why him? Why did he get stuck with such a melodramatic ponce? The idiot was going to get himself killed pulling stunts like this and then Ed would be knocked out of the Holy Grail War.


"I can't wait to sleep in a bed again," Winry sighs as she stares up at the building. Riza can't help but smile a little. Back in her time, she counted herself lucky if she was able to sleep in a bed at all. Most of the time, she didn't have that luxury. The only time she did was whenever she would… Well, that was in the past. Beds were much more common now and not for just certain people. "We're going to be on the highest floor. It'll give us a perfect advantage point to view the city."

Starting around the back of the car, Riza opens the trunk and starts to pull out their luggage. Well, it's more of Winry's and Pinako's luggage. As a Heroic Spirit from the past, she has very little to carry with her. "We should get inside. It is late and–"

If not for the flash out of the corner of her eyes, Riza wouldn't have noticed anything was amiss. It's only for a second, but it is enough for her to jump to attention. This time though, she doesn't go for the handgun tucked in the shoulder holster underneath her suit jacket. She leaps in front of the car, blocking both Winry and Pinako from view, and a golden bow and arrow materializes out of thin air. Not quite a long bow but still larger than most from her time, the golden bow is an intricately designed and stunning sight. It most likely looks strange against the modern suit she is still wearing, but Riza doesn't even flinch.

Neither does the dark-haired man whose heart is the target of her arrow. He himself is merely holding a white gloved hand up, his middle finger and thumb pressed together. Riza's heart stops and for a second, much to her shame, the gleaming bow and arrow glimmers in the air as she hesitates. The man's dark eyes widen, his eyebrows arched, and his mouth gapes open. Both of them are seemingly frozen in time as they stare at one another.

It can't be him. It simply cannot be… By all accounts, it should've been impossible that they would be summoned at the same time for the same Holy Grail War. There are countless of Heroic Spirits that can be summoned as Servants. And yet, despite all the odds, they find themselves together again – except this time, they are against one another. The bow feels terribly heavy in her hands despite its weightlessness.

"Riza?" the man manages to ask in a gruff tone, her name scraping against his throat.

His hand drops to his side weakly. The desire to scream burns in Riza's mind, her chest seizing, her throat clenching, her heart aching. Why him? Of all the Casters that could've been called upon, why him?

"Archer!" Pinako shouts warningly, playing her role well. Winry quails behind her.

But despite whatever Pinako wants, Winry does not want to fight and neither does Riza. She lowers her bow and lets it vanish entirely, the glow of the bow fading into the wind. Her eyes never leave his. She has never seen such pain before – and yet so much longing either. It's ridiculous how much she wishes that she could rush towards him. She didn't think she would ever see him again and yet here he is, as flesh and blood as a Heroic Spirit can be. He can die again. She could kill him this time. She should. Her fingers twitch.

Riza has never felt the urge to run away from a fight before up until now.

"You're not supposed to just run off like that!" a young boy shouts as he bursts out of a door from the side of the building Caster just leapt off of. His golden hair tied in a braid, he stops to bend over and put his hands on his knees, panting after most likely just racing down a flight of stairs. Riza quirks an eyebrow up in a questioning look. That is Caster's Master? He predictably shrugs his shoulders, flippant as ever. "Jumping from buildings and the like – don't be such an idiot!"

"My apologies, Master," Caster says, his voice filled with the same sarcasm she remembers. She hates the way that his voice makes her heart leap. He should not have that sort of power over her. She would say that it has to do with his charm as a Heroic Spirit, one of his gifts, but she is not as easily swayed as other women might be. It's only because it is him. On anyone else, it wouldn't even affect her.

The young golden-haired Master straightens up and swings his eyes in her direction. His eyes match his hair, bright and exceptionally sharp. "Is she why you've been acting so strange? Who is she?"

Riza stiffens. She's a little more than annoyed that she couldn't feel Caster's presence from the get go, but then, perhaps because of his skills, he's able to hide from the other Heroic Spirits. Everyone has their own talents. Riza has her own that Winry only knows a little about. The fact that she did not even know of Caster's presence near her until she saw him tells her something. Even now, she can't feel him and can't determine his level of strength.

She doesn't need that though. She knows his strength and weaknesses inside and out, just as he knows hers. It almost makes her want to laugh. Most Servants struggle as they try to name one another, waiting patiently until one Heroic Spirit names themselves and gives away part of their strength. Riza won't have to fight that battle with him and he won't with her. She knows him like she knows herself and vice versa. No one knew her in her life as well as he did. He knew things about her before she did, drew them out of her, made her weaknesses her strengths.

A glow surrounds Caster as he returns to modern clothes, a black suit with a white button up shirt and a white scarf to match. It looks elegant. Then again, he always was one for expensive taste. "We should leave. Your brother will be worried."

"What are you talking about?" the boy snaps, leaping forward and clenching his hands into fists. "Is this a fight or not? Isn't that what Heroic Spirits do when they find one another?"

"Not tonight," Caster responds coldly.

The boy steps back, clearly taken off guard by his Servant's tone.

Riza is too, to be honest. Whenever he spoke like that before, it made everyone around them go silent. He didn't abuse his power very often unless need be. She blinks, feeling more vulnerable than ever before. She hasn't felt this way since she was alive and with him in their own time.

Caster smiles at her. It's not happy, but it isn't sad either. "You won't say my name now either, will you?"

"I'm supposed to kill you," Riza says quietly.

"You had my permission then, if need be," he tells her.

"I didn't…" Riza steps backwards the second he takes a step towards her. She wants to be closer to him, needs to be, but she is also afraid. Every inch of her is screaming to rush towards him, as if she is meant to be at his side and not facing him. She was never meant to point a weapon at his face, only hold it at his back in case he went too far. A million years could pass, and she would still feel the same way.

Caster steps back, forcibly so, and looks to his Master. "We're leaving." Before even letting his Master respond, he turns and begins to walk away.

"I'm the one that gives orders!" the boy exclaims, but after glaring at the three women on the other side of the street, he throws a hand up in the air in contempt and follows his Servant.

This time, Riza doesn't watch them go. She tears her eyes away, because she cannot bear to see him walk away. When the two men are gone from her sight, she stumbles, her knees buckling from underneath her, and falls against the car. The vehicle is the only thing that keeps her standing. Winry rushes to her side, taking hold of one of Riza's elbows and placing another on her side. The worry in her eyes is overpowering. It shames Riza to her core.

"You know him," Winry says delicately. "From your past?"

"He is the Flame Alchemist." Riza must be open with her Master. It's the best way to ensure victory. So many Servants fail because they cannot bare to be honest with their Masters. It hurts too much. Riza feels as if she's opening old wounds. Why did it have to be him? She spent so much of her life protecting him and now she must kill him or be killed in return. Despite him not coming close to her tonight, she can still remember the heat of his touch. It almost makes her shiver. "Roy Mustang."

Winry gasps and pulls the hand away from Riza's side to hold against her hand. "The man you vowed to protect with your life, according to the histories, during the Mage Wars."

Riza turns her head away. Yes, he is the man whose life she promised to protect for as long as she lived. And now she lives again, and she must kill him. He is the man who told her to put him down in case he went too far and sought too much beyond himself. But more importantly, Roy is the man that she loves with all her heart and soul. Could it be that they could not be summoned as Heroic Spirits unless they were brought here together?


The sound of Caster punching a wall is enough to cause Ed to flinch. It's not the dent in the wall that bothers Ed so much as the blood on his Servant's hands. He's never seen Caster act so violently before. Honestly, he didn't know whether there was anything in the world capable of bothering the man. He acted so flippantly about everything, even the fact that they sometimes didn't have money for things as simple as food. After all, he always found a way to get them something somehow.

This though… Ed is unsure of how to handle his Servant's suddenly temperamental behavior. He hasn't spoken since leaving the hotel. The abrupt bouts of silence that he's fallen into since the park have thrown Ed off guard completely. He was sure that he had his Servant figured out. Now he isn't certain of anything. It doesn't help that all of Ed's questions have fallen on deaf ears and he isn't about to use one of his three command seals on a mere question.

Al rushes forward, wheeling towards the older man without any hesitation. Ed goes to grab him and hold his brother back, but the boy is able to sweep out of his reach. Not even bothering to ask for permission or with any pretenses, he grabs hold of Caster's bloodied hand. A green glow surrounds his hand. When it fades away, Caster's hand is back to normal, pristine, clean, and undamaged.

Caster looks at his hand like it isn't his own and then bows his head. "Thank you." The words sound rough from not speaking for so long. Al merely nods his head and wheels backwards against the wall.

"You want to tell me what this is all about?" Ed demands heatedly.

Shooting him a glare, Caster bears his teeth in a cruel grin and then turns away from him. Apparently not. The Heroic Spirit hates dematerializing for whatever reason, but he looks close to doing it now, just so that he can get away from his Master. It's unusual for Servants to mingle with other people outside of their Masters, but Caster has been an unusual Servant from the get go.

"You're hurt," Al says gently. "Sometimes it helps to talk about what hurt you."

Caster glances at Al, but there is no anger in his eyes for the younger Elric. As his Master, Ed can be a thorn in his Servant's side, but it's different with Al. He's able to drag out a side of Caster than Ed has to fight tooth and nail to just get a glimpse of. It's probably the injury. Or maybe it's the way Al talks. People always open up to him better than Ed. He's not nearly as abrasive.

And so Ed tries his little brother's kinder approach. "The other Servant – you knew her? Is that why it felt different for you?" He needs to know these things if they're going to fight in the Holy Grail War together.

"Knew her…" Caster sighs and finally sits down after pacing for so long. "You might as well say that I know myself – that I know that two plus two is four or that the world is round. Know her? She is a part of me."

"Who is she then?" Ed waves at the books lying in the corner of the room. He read them so many times, to himself and to Al, he has the contents memorized. All of his Heroic Spirit's history, written upon page after page, detailing the expansion of Caster's power and strength. "There's nothing written about any specific woman in the tales of your life." Ed folds his arms across his chest. "According to every historian, you were a great big flirt and broke the hearts of women everywhere you went."

"Not every woman's," Caster says with a hurt smile on his distant face, "not hers."


Cheers swept through the camp as he passed through. Women called his name and men chanted his title, their words filling him with more hope than his recent victory. Roy grinned and waved a hand at them, the sleeve of his robe falling down slightly to show the tattoo on his arm. One red-haired woman in particular, most likely a cook, giggled and turned away when he cast a wink in her direction. It was always so simple charming the hearts of the people these days, what with the power that he contained.

"Another victory, sir!" one of his personal guards, Havoc, said, clapping him on the back. Most people would never dare touch a mage, but Roy made sure that the people watching over him day and night felt warm and invited with him. He wanted them to feel attached to him, to make their duty personal. That, and well, sometimes he got lonely. He didn't like to keep himself distant from those supposedly beneath him like many other mages did. This war didn't just affect mages, after all.

"Why don't you celebrate tonight with the others?" Roy swiped the mud off his guard's shoulder. Havoc was taller than him, his sandy blond hair a wild mess after wearing a helm all day. "You were exceptional in battle today."

"I would not be a knight worthy of guarding the Flame Alchemist if I wasn't exceptional at all times," Havoc pointed out cheekily. His blue eyes caught sight of a curly brunette woman she passed them. One of the shieldmaidens from a small town that was not pleased with not being allowed to fight on the battlefield, she typically stuck her nose up at any mage regardless of what side they were on. Nonetheless, she'd managed to captivate his guard. "But if you're commanding me to celebrate…"

"I am."

"Then who am I to say no?" Havoc bowed somewhat sardonically. It wasn't near enough proper of Roy's rank, but he had never been one to question people on their ranks. Havoc was from the country. It had never been expected of him to ever be around lords or ladies, much less mages of Roy's caliber, and yet his unexpected skills had landed him in such places. Roy would never hold that against him. With a light grin on his face, Havoc bounded towards the woman, calling out if she needed any help with the load of clothes she was carrying. Roy would not question his guard's description of celebrating.

When he ducks into his tent, Roy finally allows himself to relax. He sighs, his shoulders falling, his body loosening, his mind unraveling. Everyone expects so much out of him. Lord Grumman thinks that Roy alone will be able to end the Mage Wars and settle things once and for all. Roy isn't so certain. While he knows in his mind that he's the strongest mage of their time, his heart lies elsewhere. He was bred for war, but he's so tired of it. He thought his magic would resurrect people from hopeless situations, not dash them their hope away entirely.

"You should rest, sir," a flat voice says his right side.

"And here I thought, there was no rest for the wicked," Roy responded teasingly, peering at the tent's other occupant with one eye.

Riza stiffened at his words, her face a mixture of disapproval. With her hair cut short and her dirty armor covering her body, Riza did not look like much of a woman. When she wore her helmet, it was impossible to tell the difference. The only thing that might have drawn attention to her sex was her pierced ears, but she kept those hidden with a tuff of her soft blond hair. Women weren't allowed to be knights after all. They most certainly weren't allowed to be the head of a mage's guard.

"You can let your guard down now," Roy told her as he began to pour two glasses of wine. The pitcher had been newly refreshed by Fuery most like right before Roy's arrival, so that it was still cool to the tongue. The boy was punctual in his duties, if nothing else. "There's no one else here but us."

"Sir–" She froze instantly when he held a glass out in front of her.

"You did your duty. You protected me." Roy wiggled the goblet in front of her face. "So please, allow yourself to be at ease."

Taking the glass from his hand, Riza gave him an almost petulant look and then took a sip. Only then did he smile and take a sip from his own. Before she could do anything else, like tell him off or suggest that it wasn't proper of her, he stepped forward and placed a hand behind her head, his fingers threading through her hair, and kissed her right on the lips. He could taste the rich red wine from her. Despite the sudden action and all her talk of properness, she kissed him back, as if she couldn't contain herself.

When he pulled back though, Riza's amber eyes darted to the ground. "I shouldn't have–"

"I started it," Roy told her firmly. "You've nothing to feel guilty about. I certainly don't."

She'd been terribly humiliated when he had called her out on being a woman and even more so when he had confessed to being attracted to her before he'd realized that she was in fact a member of the opposite sex. Honestly, he didn't understand the qualms about that sort of thing, but then again, mages were of a different sort. Nowadays though, he could not deny himself of her. Every time they were near each other, he felt a fire under his skin to be even closer. Every kiss seared his skin. She kept herself hidden under her armor so much that when he was able to drag her out of it finally, it felt like a mirage.

"I couldn't do this without you, you know," Roy mumbled as he pulled her closer to him.

Riza rolled her eyes, not meanly though. "If you're trying to pull me into bed–"

"I mean it, truly," Roy insisted, pressing his forehead against hers. She was always so cool to the touch whereas he was always hot. "I don't know where I'd be without you. Most likely dead or worse. You're my guiding star."

What if she hadn't been a part of his guard? What if he'd never met her? He could not imagine life without her. She had saved his life countless of times, nearly died for it, in fact. A godsend with a bow and arrow, she was able to somehow make up for the gaps that his magic had. She'd once grabbed a knife with her bare hand right before it hit him in the face. And with that same hand, she had touched him, caressed him, held him, scratched marks down his back, soothed his wounds. What would he be without her?


Wrapped in a thick white robe after taking a steaming hot shower, Winry should feel nothing but relaxed, but her body is tensed up and her eyes are wary as she gazes upon her Servant. Riza is sitting on the edge of a bed. They could only afford one room with two beds, although Riza assured her multiple times that sleeping on the carpet floor would be wonderful for her, but it isn't enough for Winry. She wants more for her Heroic Spirit. She wants her to be happy. Are Masters supposed to want that for their Servant?

And yet, as of now, all Riza looks is troubled. She is a reticent person by nature. All the stories Winry read about the fabled Hawk's Eye is that she was a silent warrior. Or rather, he was a silent warrior. The people writing the histories were clearly wrong about her and for good reason. Women in her time weren't allowed to fight and yet she struggled and hid her identity in order to do so. She must've truly believed in the Flame Alchemist's ideals in order to do something like that.

Winry frowns, despite herself. And now the Flame Alchemist is here. That stupid golden boy summoned him for the Holy Grail Wars as Caster. Winry's heart aches for her Archer. She thought she knew the Hawk Eye's history in and out before summoning her, but apparently there is more to the story. The biggest surprise wasn't that the legendary warrior was truly a woman. There was so more hidden than Winry could have ever imagined. Still, she doesn't feel lied to or set back. Riza couldn't have known this would happen, right?

"You loved him, didn't you?" Winry says quietly.

Riza's head drops even further, her eyes staring at her hands in her lap. "Shameful, is it not? I vowed on my honor and life to protect him and yet I…" She wrings her hands together. "I was a part of the Old Guard. Any member is not allowed to love. I broke the rules."

"That's stupid," Winry scoffs. Riza looks up at her sharply. It's the first time that her Servant has ever been close to insolent, but she doesn't care. Winry has never been afraid to speak her mind. "You can't control what your heart feels. Rules don't apply to it."

"You speak so simply," Riza says, "like him." She shakes her head. "He thought we could be together after the Mage Wars were over – that he could end it and whisk me away to a better place. He was so idealistic."

When she smiles at Winry, it's not a happy one, but not sad either. It's filled with memories that Winry will never know, that all the history books missed out on. Winry's heart aches just thinking about it. All she wants is for her Servant to smile, but now she knows part of the reason why she doesn't. Riza was never allowed to smile in her time. She would shine too brightly if she did so. She would be too much. And when she does, even when it isn't happy or light, the emotion that it evokes is too strong for anyone to bear.

"What happened?" Winry asks.

Riza looks back down at her hands. "What else? I died for him."


Glimpses of her lying with him flashed in her mind. He held her close in those memories, burying his face the crook of her neck, grasping her tighter than anything before. Her fingers clenching and her body seizing and her soul humming along with his. She almost cried just thinking about it. But no, that wasn't her. She would not falter even now. After all, this was what she expected in the end, was it not?

Roy was held in front of her by two large men, his hands kept away from one another and his special gloves tossed to the side. She knew little about the magic that he yielded, that her father once held, but she knew enough. She knew that she didn't contain the magical ability to learn her father's skills in order to pass it on; she knew that he'd been forced to filter students one after another to find the right one; she knew that after he died, she chose the man before her to pass on the magic of the Hawkeye line.

She knew that she would die for that man without any hesitation.
Roy was not so accepting. He refused to fully understand that if it meant her death or his, she would not even blink. A sword pressed to her throat, she did not even feel the urge to cry over her death. Their enemy could pressure him all they wanted into doing what they told in order to save her life, but a simple shake of her head, a dropping of her eyes, told him no. She would never forgive him if he did otherwise.

Her death and her unwillingness to forgive her were the same thing in the end. He would die somehow either way. At least with her death, he would live physically to end the Mage Wars. And no doubt he would do that. With her gone, she feared nothing would hold him back. She hoped he would not rage in his loss. She hoped he would not break with her absence. But a memory could only last so long before it felt like nothing else.

"You will not raise a hand to save her?" their enemy growls as he presses the sword against her throat, causing a thin line of blood to run down her skin.

Roy starts forward. Riza breathes out. Roy stills.

"Love, take your time," Riza tells him, a bright smile on her face, unlike anything he has ever seen before, "I'll see you on the other side."

She barely feels the slice across her neck. She hears a terrible scream as she collapses to the ground. Warmth pools around her, but it's only her own blood, reminding her that she's dying. The screams do not stop, not even after they become horse and hollow. Then there is red, fiery hot red, angry and loving and vicious. A gentle touch as someone pulls her close. She's too cold to feel warmth any longer though. Words murmured to her, tears soaking her face. And all goes black, and she remembers no more.


"And now you're destined to fight her," Ed huffs.

Caster growls like a caged animal. "I killed her once. I don't know if I can kill her again." He runs his hands through his hair and turns away from the both of them. Edward has never seen his Servant so bare before. He's more of a wounded animal than person now. The man has always been eager to fight and throw himself into the War when the time comes, but now, he looks ready to hide.

Al rolls his chair forward. "You didn't kill her."

"I may as well have!" Caster snaps. When Al pulls in on himself, the older man flinches and turns away. He has never once raised his voice at Al. Oh, with Ed, he'll fight all he wants, but with Al, he's gentle, kind, and soft. Ed knows that it isn't the wheelchair, but something else that he can't put a finger on. His Servant is able to both not give a damn and care intensely at the same time. "I could've saved her…"

"At the cost of your own life," Ed points out. "Archer is a protector class in the end, from what I've seen. She wouldn't have wanted that."

Burying his face in his hands, Caster mumbles, "You don't know what life was without her."

"You're not the first person to lose the love of their life," Ed replies callously. He knows it's harsh, but his Servant needs to hear it. Ed spent half his childhood watching his mother, whose husband left her. No amount of brilliant magic skills from her children could make up for the fact that her husband disappeared and left her to raise two kids on her own. Ed had seen heartbreak. His Caster was no different. "What happened?"

Caster laughs, cold and mirthless enough to shake Ed to his core. "I destroyed the world. That's what happened. I couldn't be the man she believed I was without her." He pulls his head up, tilting it and examining Ed with such sharp eyes that it makes him take a step back. "That's the kind of Heroic Spirit you summoned for the Holy Grail War, just so you know – one capable of destroying everything. Are you ready for that kind of responsibility?"