The Pink Ribbon that He Untied
a Hey Arnold fanfic by Pyrex Shards
pre-read by Lord Malachite
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A week had gone by. Well, a week and 2 days, plus half of a Monday. Arnold sat in the school cafeteria munching on a slice of pepperoni pizza and sipping a Yahoo soda, thinking. He thought a lot that morning since he reluctantly let go of Helga's hand when the bus came to a stop in front of the school. He thought not of school work, for English class barely registered in his mind.
He thought of Helga. In fact, Helga was the only subject in his mind through the morning. She had held his fingers in between hers, clinging to them as if they were a lifeline, but not so tight that the hidden link he shared with her was uncomfortable. But he felt as if his hand was in her possession then, and it was her decision when to let go.
When the bus had stopped, Helga had leaned down to his hand and brushed her closed eyes against his fingers, to wipe the tears away. Then she kissed his palm, cupped her cheek into it for a moment, and let go. He could still feel those tears on his fingers and the feeling of her lips brushing against his palm.
If he had interpreted it correctly while he brushed his fingers against his cheek to collect those tears and let them dry in his care, through her actions she had said "You're mending my heart, and I still love you."
The last time he saw her that morning, she gave him a tear bracketed smile before they exited the bus. He hadn't seen her since.
Now he was stewing over that. Shouldn't it have been harder to mend her heart? When he left her the previous Friday she had been crying her heart out over his careless display of amusement regarding her poetry. He swore he could feel her heart breaking as he kissed her scar. He could feel the nervous twitches as the most vital organ in her body tore itself apart into a confused mess.
And it made his heart ache in sync with hers…
He nibbled another bite of pizza. That night, he saw Cecile. No, not quite right. He saw Helga, but he saw the awkward Helga.
If all you want to do is help then stay away from me. I don't want to be your girlfriend anymore. I don't want this, this, whatever you think this relationship is!
What was their relationship until then? He was trying to help her, right? Trying to help her break out of her shell and be the little girl again that he lost so many years ago to the laughter of their classmates.
When he finally did it, when he finally started breaking through, he saw the girl again, the one he… Wanted… He wanted her to stay and not run away into the night. He wanted to hold her and never let go. When he had kissed her, her first reaction was to let out a slight whimper at the contact, as if at that moment she had let go of a pain she had long endured, and it was at that point that perhaps the seeds had been sown for what was going to happen.
Maybe that pain of longing wasn't ready to leave her heart just yet. Or perhaps Arnold wasn't ready to relieve her of that burden.
He felt sheepishly guilty all of the sudden. He had no idea what he was getting himself into when he kissed Helga. He now knew that his kiss was something Helga wanted for so long. When their lips met, she put aside all reservations for that moment in time, and let him help her live out a fantasy. It was too bad that Arnold's judgment had clouded when he started exploring her head, neck, and upper torso with his lips.
He had been wading into dangerous territory and didn't see the signs when Helga, through flushed skin and twinkling eyes that were so full of passion for him, asked Arnold what he was thinking. What had he been thinking? Precisely what any teenage boy would be thinking in that situation, really. There came times after puberty where seeing a girl in certain ways would make a boy feel good all over, and that's precisely what Helga's body had done to Arnold when she let him touch her intimately. He ended up wanting more.
He was trapped then, with only one possible outcome, and he had made such an ass out of himself. Helga didn't deserve any of it, and… It wasn't her fault anyway. It was the rule of girls and boys, the birds and the bees, and all that. Besides, Arnold was the one playing with the fire of Helga's love for him. It was an uncleansing flame that left a lasting mark. He had been burned while Helga had been scorched.
Arnold closed his eyes and furrowed his brows in frustration and guilt. Phoebe was right. It was the *wrong* time to ask Helga about her poetry. How did he look in her eyes at the time, after he had turned her world on its edge? The sight of him, the subject of her prose, laughing at her poetry immediately afterwards must have been worse than a nightmare. The worst part was that he had no idea. He had no warning about the power or the innocence of Helga's prose.
He had never seen Helga so emotionally disturbed, so he resolved that he would never put Helga through such a thing ever again. He would never ask about her poetry and he would never ask about her shrine. He would never ask her to acknowledge her relationship with him in public.
No pain would grace her features when he was around, for he would throw himself in front of a bus before he could see such a thing in those eyes of hers that he saw when he closed his own.
He smiled, Helga had given him another chance that morning, and he was ready for it. What he told Phoebe was right on. He loved Helga. They were awkward together of course, but at least he had Helga. He felt strangely safe around her when they were alone. Motherly safe. Like nothing bad could ever happen to him when in her arms.
But…
Arnold let his head fall to a hand as he took another sip of his Yahoo, and then sighed. Love was such a powerful word. Did he truly love Helga, or was this what adults had warned kids about in television shows and in person? One didn't throw the word love around for kicks. Was this just puppy love, or the real thing? Did he really love Helga like she loved him?
Before he could even venture psychoanalysis of, Helga, Love, and all the trappings, the sound of two lunch trays clacking against the worn lunchroom table in unison surrounded his senses. He looked up. To his left stood Helga, chocolate milk in one hand with the fingers of her free hand resting on the tray that sat on the table. To his right stood Gerald, a yahoo in one hand with his other hand in his pocket. They were staring at each other, expressionless, waiting for the other to make the first move. A standoff had just begun, with Arnold in the center.
Helga scowled at Gerald. "I'd like to talk with Arnoldo alone if you don't mind."
"Any business you have with my best friend is my business as well, Unibrau." Gerald said flatly without breaking his cold stare.
"Hey!" Arnold held out his hands, "you guys can both sit here and Helga can whisper whatever she needs to say."
Gerald looked at Arnold as if he was crazy, then looked down and mumbled. "I'd rather sit with Adolf Hitler."
Helga sat the chocolate milk down rather forcefully and crossed her arms, looking away from Gerald. "We'll I'm sorry to burst your bubble but Hitler's dead, you can sit with Wolfgang if you want."
At that point an audible belch ripped through the cafeteria, and then some muted clapping could be heard, followed by an aid walking up to the table where Wolfgang and his clan sat. The aide grabbed a defiant Wolfgang by the ear and pulled him up. His pained protests could be heard as the tall, rather butch, teacher's aide led Wolfgang out of the cafeteria with her thumb and index finger pinching his ear lobe.
"Did. Did that just happen?" Gerald asked, amused.
Helga couldn't help but laugh, "Yeah, I think it did." She then looked back at Gerald and her expression softened. If Arnold didn't know any better he could see those wonderful gears turning in her head. She put a hand on Gerald's shoulder. "Listen, Gerald. Mind if I call you Gerald?"
Gerald looked at Helga, stunned. "That is my name, pigtails."
"Look, this isn't working."
"I'll say." Gerald shrugged her hand off his shoulder. "I'm still sitting with my best bud whether you like it or not. It's an unbroken tradition."
Helga shook her head. "Okay, fine." It was then that Arnold could see the way she held herself, like she was unsure of this. But he had to smile. She was taking an initiative that he never thought he'd see her take alone. He had promised silently not to help her anymore, but, he mused as he watched her incredible resolve, that didn't mean she couldn't help herself. "Come with me for a second."
Gerald sighed, nodded, and Helga took his reluctant hand. She led him to an empty table where they sat down.
Arnold sipped on his soda and took another nibble of pizza as he watched Helga talk animatedly with his best friend. They were too far away for him to hear anything coherent, so he simply sat and stole glances in their direction. At least once he swore he could hear the phrases "head over heels," and "since preschool." After a while he caught the words "coffee in Paris," "whole nine yards," "I would never break," and "if you ever tell anyone" as they echoed silently through the air, or at least he could make them out silently as he watched Helga's lips move.
At least once she bashed a fist into an open Palm and Gerald winced. But after she paused, blushed, and looked down at the table, he saw Gerald grin and shake his head. Gerald leaned in and said something to Helga that made her look at him, he held out a hand and, Helga took it, and they shook on some unspoken agreement that Arnold would probably never hear them admit. A truce, perhaps?
Not long after they shook hands, Helga stood up to walk back to Arnold's table. Gerald followed behind her at a safe distance. They both sat down in unison and started eating.
Arnold took a satisfying bite out of his pizza, swallowed, looked at Gerald, then at Helga. The silence didn't seem tense at all, and both of them looked to have their guards down. At least Gerald did, Helga always seemed to have that wall around her true self. "So what did you want to talk to me about?" He broke the silence.
Helga paused with a fork full of lettuce and ranch dressing hovering over her tray. She swallowed the food already in her mouth and smiled at him. "Can it wait until after school, Football Head?"
Arnold sighed at what he was then becoming used to as a pet name, smiled back, nodded, and then started eating again. As he bit into his pizza he felt warm pressure on his calf, and he realized it was Helga. He looked up at his girlfriend as she ventured into her first civil conversation with Gerald, acting completely inattentive to what was taking place under the table, and he smiled.
It was like they were still holding hands, and he didn't want it to end.
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Gerald was strangely absent after the last bell rang. Arnold just had to chalk that up to whatever agreement Helga had with his best friend while at lunch. So while he was sorting through his locker, tracking down which books he needed amongst the wads of paper and one emergency umbrella, he caught Helga out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the adjacent wall and pretending not to notice him.
This wasn't new. Helga had pulled the same trick on numerous occasions before the dance that had become a major turning point in both of their lives. He always thought that she was waiting for someone and he paid her no attention, lest he get a scowl and a curt remark in response. Now that he knew why she stood there, he understood that Helga was actually there for him.
He imagined that he'd still get a scowl and curt remark if he acknowledged her presence. But her being there, watching him silently, gave him some strange comforting feeling in the back of his head. She was afraid to get too close in public, he knew that, but there was something romantic about the secret that he was now clued in on.
He sighed as he closed his locker and spun the combination lock with a meager set of books tucked under one arm. For him this little secret they shared was kind of a turn-on. Somehow their relationship was a forbidden one even when it wasn't. The tormentor in this case, had a deep hidden desire for the tormented. Forbidden things had a tendency to be exciting. But for Helga, who had been waiting for so long to profess to Arnold her love for him, it was still a matter of the utmost importance that they spend their time together away from prying eyes whom she feared would judge her love as pathetic; a flaw or weakness.
He walked away from his locker and towards the entrance, and he knew Helga was not far behind. He repeated his promises to her in his mind. He was not going to try and help Helga out of hiding her true feelings. He was going to let her be her same childish bully self to others, and a jerk to him while the public watched. At least Gerald was out of the picture.
Or, actually he wasn't. When the lunch break ended and Gerald stood up, Helga pointed to his butt and made a rather loud comment about the pizza that was stuck there. This in turn made Gerald pretty livid. Gerald yelled back at Helga and then stalked off, but Gerald, who usually met Arnold at his locker, had decided that Helga deserved whatever they had shook hands about.
Arnold resolved to forget the toilet paper attached to the sole of his shoe with a wad of bubblegum. How Helga had managed that would remain a mystery.
He walked out into the cool afternoon. The sun overhead heated the city up enough that he only needed to change his typical shirt out for a sweater that morning. He smiled. Most people had difficult times figuring out what to wear. Arnold had perfected his method of dress long ago. So what if everyone accused him of wearing a kilt, or chastised his lack of fashion sense; the sweater and button-shirt combination was comfortable and that's what mattered.
He looked back towards the school and saw Helga on the steps. She quickly looked away and leaned against the railing, crossing her arms and staring down. So this was up to him. Bus or walk. He had a feeling Helga would choose whatever he chose, but he knew whatever she had to tell him was important to them both, so he chose the slow route, to walk.
His home was only five city-blocks away anyway, and while that may have sounded long, it was easily traversed by foot because he was used to it. So he began his long walk.
After the first block he looked back, and didn't see Helga. He stopped for a moment to think. When had he ever seen Helga like that, stalking behind him like an amateur? Perhaps once or twice to give him a good taunting, but the situation didn't call for that.
He carefully crossed another street when the walk sign turned green, then continued down another block. Their run-ins happened when he rounded a corner and she'd be there. They'd always connect and then fall. At least once she'd managed to bang his nose pretty good. She'd gotten a finger in his ear on one occasion. Helga had her share of injuries from those incidents, the worse being a bloody lip from running into Arnold elbow because he had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
The injuries increased whenever a growth spurt had Arnold up to Helga's forehead, and Helga had decided to stop lest she got knocked loopy and ended up spilling her secrets in front of him.
So imagine Arnold's surprise when he started walking past an alley, and a pair of feminine hands shot out from the shadows, grabbed him by the sweater, and pulled him into the alleyway. This action elicited a yelp from the boy and Helga quickly put a hand to his mouth. She brought her free hand up to her lips and shushed him with a finger while he breathed slightly heavy from the sudden rush of adrenaline.
He looked around the alley then at Helga as she looked nervously around. "Are you okay Arnoldo?" She asked with a tinge of affection to her voice.
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I think." He looked down to see the books he had dropped, and reached down nervously to collect them and dust off the dirt they'd picked up. He stood back up and ran a nervous hand through his hair as he looked around, finally turning to Helga. "So. About Friday. I-"
"Wait a second, Football Head. We're not there yet. Follow me." Helga extended her hand for Arnold to grab on to, and he did so. She led him deeper into the alley, where she looked around again, for possible tails.
Arnold had to grin at the lengths Helga took. Helga noticed his grin and scowled at him with a low growl. He quickly wiped his smile from his face, but the upward curve in his mouth remained. Once she was satisfied about their aloneness, she led him to an oversized door at the back of the alley. This wasn't the dirtiest alley around, and it just had one dumpster as its lone occupant. He knew why whenever he saw the writing on the door. "Regional Library Service Entrance?" He read aloud.
Arnold reached for the handle and twisted it, but the door didn't open. Helga smirked and gently pushed his arm away. "Who ever goes to the library Arnoldo? C'mon."
"But this door's loc…" His words died in his fascination as Helga twisted the handle in an odd way and the normally locked door made an odd cracking sound in the lock mechanism. Helga opened it with ease and led Arnold inside.
Inside was simply a small room with the entrance to a service elevator. Helga pressed the lone call button beside the elevator door, and after a few moments of waiting, they heard the bell and the elevator door opened.
Inside the elevator was a single florescent light, dirty floor, and some freight padding. They walked in together and Arnold reached down to press the second floor button, only to be stopped by Helga's hand. "Let the door close. It'll stay here." She said softly.
Arnold looked at her oddly. What was she intending when the elevator closed? The testosterone fueled part of his mind entertained some possibilities, but pushed those aside when the door closed and they were greeted with silence. He was there to apologize and Helga needed him to hear something that she had to say. But that didn't stop them from standing in an awkward situation; he surmised that Helga realized she was in a secluded Elevator with him, and that there were some opportunities that she was ignoring as well.
She had planned this after all, and Arnold had to hand it to Helga, she knew how to get the two of them alone. He figured that after years of covertness in stalking, no, hiding herself from him, she'd be pretty adept at finding foxholes. She'd probably be so good as to make a marine or secret agent blush with envy, and she didn't need camouflage. Who else would know a strange quirk about an insignificant lock in an alleyway?
Arnold stood against one wall in the Elevator and leaned back, watching Helga, her red bow, those timeless pigtails, and everything else about her, intently as she found the opposite wall and leaned against it. She stared at him, no, into him, with her deep blue eyes, and hugged herself awkwardly. Arnold let the expression drain from his face as he took in the look she gave him. It hurt.
It made him hurt. Why didn't he see this during school? She had stared at him during lunch, but he never saw it. He didn't see it on the bus either. Unless she was hiding it the entire time, until she could be alone with him.
Then it dawned on him. He was mending her heart, but she still had yet to make him suffer enough. The frustrating part was that it was all over a misunderstanding regarding a poem. Arnold was still sorry though. He was sorry he even asked to read the poetry. It was an effort to stay with Helga for a while longer, to keep contact with her because he had newfound desire for her physical presence.
Now she was making sharp pains in his heart with a simple stare. The boy realized he was seeing that girl he desired again, the one whom he had hurt. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for what happened Friday night."
Helga broke her eye contact with Arnold and focused on the floor between them. "What part?" She asked softly.
Arnold in turn focused on the red ribbon in her hair. "Anything and everything that made you feel uncomfortable. Whatever I did to cause the pain that I'm seeing right now. Including that poem. I'm so sorry Helga. If I could go back and not laugh I would. But what's done is done. I don't deserve to hear your poetry after what I did."
"I have already forgiven you for the poem." Helga admitted to Arnold and looked up at him. She didn't have a mad expression, she wasn't scowling at him. Instead she just, looked sad. "You didn't laugh at my heart, that wasn't your intention, I know that. I didn't hear why you were laughing, I only realized you were laughing and I wouldn't hear you out. I over-reacted, and I'm sorry. But, that's not what really hurt me."
Arnold could feel his stomach sink into his legs. There was something else. He lowered himself to sit down on the elevator floor, knees up against his body. Helga walked towards him, and Arnold scooted over as Helga sat down beside him in roughly the same way. They both stared against the opposite wall.
"Why did you kiss me?" Helga asked.
"It's kind of. Well. I…"
Helga brought up her hand and rested it on Arnold's kneecap. "Criminey. Don't stutter. It's not like I'm going to mock you." She said softly while shaking her head, a tinge of humor cracked through her voice.
Arnold smiled at Helga. "When you said that you didn't want to be my girlfriend anymore I went into a panic. I thought, you didn't want that. I knew I didn't want that. I grabbed your shoulders because I thought that I might, actually." He looked away nervously. "I don't know why I grabbed your shoulders like that. Heat of the moment I guess. But when I looked into your eyes." Arnold peered into Helga's eyes and she let him, and he realized that it was now so easy to lose himself within their gaze, but it made it easy to speak the words he needed to say. "When I looked into your eyes I saw that little girl, I saw Cecile, I saw us on the rooftop of FTi. I saw all those little memories we shared together that weren't bad at all, and all the times I actually entertained a crush on you. When it looked like you were about to cry I lost it, I just had to kiss you then. It made me desire you."
"Go on."
"When you made that little whimper into my mouth. I realized, I guess I knew then that I was seeing the real you. The girl I told you about at the dance. Cecile, you know. Not the bully."
"Arnold…" Helga shook her head and let out her breath, she looked away from the love of her life. When she did so, she was close enough that her pigtail brushed against Arnold's cheek. He could smell from her hair the same scent that he experienced on that Friday in her room. It was an intoxicating combination of a girl's skin and what he understood to be lavender shampoo. Her proximity to his shoulder beckoned him, and he moved his arm around Helga. She didn't push him away. She didn't resist him. Instead she almost instinctively buried herself into his embrace. He could feel her body heat radiate into his arm through his sweater while one of her pigtails crushed itself comfortably into his neck. She took his free hand into hers and laced her fingers with his.
They sat there for a few minutes letting the silence, and their closeness, envelop them. Then Helga un-laced her fingers from Arnold's hand, only to grasp on to it with both of hers, cupping it in between her hands and studying each finger with her own. "Did you ever stop to think that what you see in school and what you see before you is one in the same?"
"I'm afraid I don't' understand."
Helga held her eyes closed, she lowered her forehead to rest on Arnold's curled fingers. "I'm that bully and I'm that girl, that, Cecile that has your heart. I'm both of them at the same time. I'm not bi-polar Arnold, and I don't have split personalities. That little girl doesn't hide alone in here somewhere only to come out in your presence. She's me. She's always been this basketcase of a woman that I am. The entirety of my being is in love with you Arnold. So much so that I can say, that I, my heart, my soul, my mind, my body, belongs to you. Do you understand that?"
Arnold shook his head. "You could never belong to me."
Helga laughed. "Too late. I'm yours. You bought me on a rainy day years ago. You paid with an umbrella, graham crackers, and a smile. It was a fair purchase even with the discount, and the return period has expired." She raised her head and kissed his fingertips one by one before she stood up and pulled Arnold up along with her.
Once they were up Helga turned around and pinned Arnold against the wall. She grasped his chin with her fingers and placed her other hand palm down over his chest. "But I'm not Cecile. I'm not that little girl anymore. My name is Helga, Geraldine, Pataki. And Arnold. I… Love… You..." Helga stressed while tracing a heart over Arnold's own. Then she leaned in and pressed her nose and forehead to his. "I want you. I need you. I never thought I'd be this close to you like I am now, to say I love you and not shy away, apart from my fantasies. You told me that you lost me years ago. Arnold, my beloved football head, you never lost me. I've always been near you enough for you to feel my wrath. But." He looked at her eyes in disbelief as she pulled away from him, breaking contact. "I cannot have you if you don't understand my love for you."
"You couldn't possibly mean what I think you mean."
"I mean it Arnoldo. Friday night after you left, I cried and I cried. But as I laid there I realized something. I have to end our relationship. If we continue, as it is right now, you'll go on hurting me. I know it isn't intentional. You may be in love with that ideal little part of me, but that isn't enough to protect me."
Arnold lowered his head. "I'm like strawberries to you right now…"
The girl nodded. "Though my body may have you hooked, even how," Helga gently traced her unibrow with her finger, "odd, that is. You're still so naïve that you don't understand what you are capable of."
The boy looked up at the girl. He gently placed a finger on her eyebrow and traced its path across her face. Helga fluttered her eyes closed at the sensation and Arnold smiled at the effect it had on her. "But it's a start, right?" He said happily as he cupped her cheek in his palm and brushed against her ear with his finger. A small gasp escaped her lips at his touch and his boyishly deep voice as he spoke softly to her. "A relationship has to start somewhere. We're so awkward together that it's beautiful. Helga G. Pataki I'm in…"
Helga reacted fast to his words, held up her hand and placed her fingers over Arnold's lips to silence him. "Don't say it. Don't you dare say those words, hair boy."
Arnold reluctantly let go of her face as Helga uncovered his lips.
The girl smiled sweetly. She bent down and placed her arms under his, and placed an ear over his chest. She swooned involuntarily as she listened to his heart, and Arnold wrapped his arms around her shoulders where they enveloped her head comfortably. Arnold pressed his lips against the knot of her red bow and ran a hand through her pigtail. Helga continued, her voice muffled by Arnold's sweater. "I'm vulnerable only to you. I want you to love me, Arnoldo. All of me. Not just lust for my body, not a crush for your ideal, but love. I want you to pine for me as I have for you. I want this wonderful heart that I hear behind your ribcage, to beat only for me. Not for Lila, not for any other girl." Helga broke from his embrace, stood straight, looked Arnold in the eyes, tilted her head, and kissed him lightly on the lips. She then hugged him and whispered into his ear. "I need you to belong to me, my beloved. I need you to understand what that means."
Arnold let a breath escape that he'd been holding in, and a single tear slid down his cheek. He had heard every word she said, but that didn't stop the longing in his body from clawing painful marks into his heart. "There's got to be some other way." His voice cracked as Helga let go of him and stepped to the elevator control panel. "You, you can't do this to me Helga. Your embrace is so… So…"
Helga pressed the door open button. The bell sounded happily and the doors slid open, bathing the elevator in light from the entrance. The girl looked at Arnold and shook her head. "If you don't even know what being in my arms means to you, then it won't work. I'm sorry Arnold."
She watched as Arnold stood there looking at her, he let his green eyes drill into her, willing himself to look as pathetic as possible, for he felt that way all the way to his toes.
Helga took a breath. "If it's any consolation football head, I've given you the key. You just don't know how to use it yet. You'll always have a chance with me because I love you, and I wouldn't give you any less."
"Helga. Wait." Arnold called out just as Helga stood in front of the alleyway door.
Helga turned to Arnold. The door to the elevator tried to close, but Helga stepped forward and put her hands between the elevator doors. They re-opened hesitantly, the bell ringing in protest. "What? Make it snappy, I have places to be."
"When we made out, and you took your shirt off, you asked me what I was thinking. I was kind of avoiding the answer because when you asked me, I suddenly felt ashamed of what I was doing to you. Like I was using you."
"Don't be ashamed. If I didn't want you to touch me with your grubby little hands like you did, I wouldn't have let you."
"Okay but, the answer. Now, when I close my eyes. I see you."
"Well." Helga smiled sadly then reached around and pressed the button on the elevator for the second floor. "Then welcome to the hell I've been in since preschool, bucko."
The door closed, separating Arnold from Helga, and the elevator sprang to life.
Arnold whispered. "Please don't do this."
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Author's Corner
I'm sure there are people waiting outside my apartment with pitchforks and torches. So I'm kind of afraid to leave work now after posting this on my break. :(
You, my kind readers, will not have to wait as long for chapter 8, I assure you.
The standard stuff: Reviews… I love them. I'm addicted to them. Feed my addiction. I will reply.
Thanks for reading!
