Here is the next chapter! I think the story is going along pretty well. You won't see much of Flamel's side of the story, but more like Al's and Ed's story. We know what the twins and Flamel do because it's their story, but we don't know what the Witch of Endor was doing before they came, and if I incorporated that with Ed's story, well, you're just gonna have to read it to see.
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA and/or SINF. If I did, I would really bring those two universes together.
Enjoy, like always!
When they arrived at her home, Edward thought it was a bit odd to have millions of mirrors dangling all around the shop. It would have been less weird if it was a mirror shop, but this place seemed to sell almost anything strange. The reflective trinkets spun on their strings, giving the atmosphere an eerie feel.
"It's dark," he remarked.
"Of course, idiot boy," the old woman said. "It's nighttime outside."
Edward didn't like being called stupid. His childish temper resurfaced and flared with his anger. "I know that! But don't you have any lights in here or anything?"
The woman pulled on what looked to be a string, and a single light bulb lit up the shop. But it was only one, so I wouldn't call the shop lit.
Ed's jaw hit the floor. "What? You only have one?"
"What do you expect?" the woman said, shrugging. "We are a small town. If you want some light, go get it for yourself."
He clenched his fist, and then he realized he was staying at this woman's place for the night, and that he should treat his host with respect. Of course, it was also the other way around—a host should treat their guests with respect—but she was probably going to deny it.
"By the way," he said, "what's your name?"
There was a pause in the conversation, but it was barely noticeable as the woman quickly replied, "Just call me Dora. Everyone does."
"Oh." He spared a glance at his tattered backpack. His head snapped up and caught the old woman, Dora, staring at one of the mirrors. When he looked at the same mirror, he could see her through it as well.
"Was there something you wanted to ask me?" she said.
He was caught off guard, but quickly gained his composure. He didn't know how the woman knew he wanted to ask her something. It was strange, but what part of his week wasn't? "Is there someplace where I can exchange some antique items for, let's say, modern day money?"
Dora raised her eyebrows streaked with grey. Modern day money? "Of course. There's a dealership down the block. They buy all kinds of things from folks. But you know, if it's money you need, you can ask me. I'll take anything you have in exchange."
"But you're already doing enough," Edward said. "I can't just—"
"That's why you're so thickheaded," she said.
Ed's earlier anger returned. "What did you say?"
She ignored him. "I haven't done anything for you yet. And a promise is hardly anything. I'll give you a bed for tonight. I'll also supply you with the proper currency—as much as you need."
"But there has to be something to give you in return. It's equivalency," he said.
Dora seemed to consider it for a second, her head tilted to the side, unseeing eyes calculating. "All right," she finally said. "What do you propose? You already helped me home earlier; what else can you do for me?"
"I don't know," Ed said, scowling. "Don't play dumb; I know you could've gone home by yourself, without my help. So what? You tell me. What do you want me to do for you?"
Dora smiled, skin crinkling at the edges. "What makes you think that I want you to do something for me?"
"Look, lady, I've had a weird day," Ed said, rubbing the back of his head. "All I want now is a decent bed to sleep in, and some money to supply the rest of my . . . trip. And in exchange, you would want something, wouldn't you?"
"Idiot boy," she sighed.
"I have a name, you know. It's Ed."
"Idiot Ed . . . "
He gritted his teeth. "Say that again. I dare you."
As usual, Dora ignored him. "All right, if you insist on helping me, I'll give you a job to do. In exchange for the shelter, money, and food, you will run a few errands for me."
"Wait, I never said—"
"It won't be too hard," she continued. "Help me with the shop, and send some things to customers for me, and I'll let you stay here for awhile."
"Hold on—" he tried again, but to no avail.
"You're lucky I found you. Others won't be so kind to outsiders. Believe me; you won't be comfortable sleeping in a tree tonight. Look outside," Dora said, "it's raining." She pointed out a shabby window, and Edward caught sight of raindrops hitting the glass.
He was put off, wondering how in the world she could've known. He almost forgot he had a pressing matter to address. "Hold on a sec. I never asked you for food. That I could manage myself. And I only just met you. Why do you insist—?"
"Because you're important, Edward," she said in a quiet tone. So quiet, he almost missed what she said.
"Wait. How do you know my name? I only told you my—"
"You have to learn to keep quiet, idiot boy. When your elders are talking, you need to muster up the patience to let them finish their sentence. If not, you can really miss the important things, the things that matter. Remember that, boy."
Edward growled deep in his throat, crossing his arms and turning away. "Why do you always have to cut me off when I—?"
"Because you go off the point," she said, staring at him. But she was blind, so he couldn't really tell. If she had her sight, though, he knew they would've pierced his soul. "And because it's fun."
"Hypocrite," he muttered. "What if I said something important, huh? If I was going to, and you cut me off, you'd be missing something too. And don't say it's because I'm off topic, because otherwise, you'd be too."
Dora smiled. "And that's why you're an important piece of the puzzle. Everything's finally coming together."
This woman was definitely strange, he decided, narrowing his eyes at her. She spoke to him as if she knew him for a long time, but he'd only met her just a while ago. What the hell was going on? What's with this time period? Was everyone insane, or was it just . . . ?
"Are you all right?"
The woman's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He blinked several times, his throat gone dry. "P-pardon?"
She looked at him with concern. "You seem rather pale. You blanked out for a while there. I didn't think my joke affected you that badly."
He stared at her, and then rubbed his eyes. "Ugh, yeah. No. It wasn't your joke—though I have to admit it was pretty terrible—it was something else. Sorry about that. It's . . . It's actually happening a lot these days."
"Oh?" Dora peered at him curiously behind her sunglasses. "You blank out about what?" And then she watched as he did it again. His abnormal golden eyes clouded, his jaw tense, gloved hands clenched tightly. She placed a cool hand on his arm.
There was a moment where Edward's body shuddered. In a split second, his eyes became its usual sharpness. His head snapped towards her. "What?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. Come. Let me show you to your room."
Ed let her lead the way. He found it interesting that she could walk by herself with her handicap and all, when just before she made him help her get back to her store. All around hung mirrors and they turned this way and that whenever a body passed by.
He followed her to a room in the back that led to a hallway. They passed a couple of rooms, and as Edward peered into one of them, something caught his attention. His stride faltered, and he stuck his head into the room.
Of course, like the rest of the store, mirrors hung everywhere. But there was another mirror in there, one that was much bigger than the rest. It wasn't particularly special—it looked the same, but something about it was peculiar.
And then the mirror surface rippled.
"What?" he said, going towards it to take a closer look. He was just about to lay his hand on the smooth surface, when Dora's voice pulled him back.
"Edward?" He momentarily flinched. "Where have you gone, you idiot boy? Don't you know it's impolite to leave your host? Come back this instant!"
"Shit," he hissed, stepping away from the mirror and heading back into the hall. He looked around for Dora's frail form, and saw her entering a room at the back. He started towards her. I don't know, he thought. Something about that mirror seemed . . . familiar.
Once he reached her, he saw her standing beside a small desk in an equally small room. There was a bed set in the corner, and a small wardrobe was placed in front of it. Edward supposed it was rather . . . charming, if he had to be polite.
"It's nothing much," Dora admitted, "but it will have to do." She turned around. "I'll leave things to you then, Edward. Get settled in."
She was about to leave, but he stopped her. "Wait," he said. Her footsteps ceased. He felt her standing right by the door. Without turning around, he continued, "Can I ask you a question?"
He heard a sigh. "I don't know—can you?"
"May I ask you a question?"
"You just did. Twice."
He tried suppressing his anger. That was something he had to control. It was getting better now, but it still needed some work. At least she wasn't calling him . . . that word. Hell, the woman was shorter than him. Oh, just said it.
"Why?" he asked. "Why are you doing this? I never asked you of it."
"Oh Edward," she said, suddenly sounding very old, and very weary. "It's because you're important." And then she left the room, her footsteps echoing down the hall.
Edward flung his backpack onto the bed. It creaked with the weight, but the backpack didn't weigh much, so that meant the bed was close to falling apart. Edward clapped his hands together and placed them onto the bed rails, strengthening them with alchemy. Once the process was finished, he plopped onto the mattress.
He looked around. Well, it wasn't as if he had anything to settle into.
"How is he so far?" Joan of Arc asked her fiancé as she passed a wet cloth to him.
The Comte de Saint-Germain took the towel gratefully and placed it on Alphonse's pale forehead. He then pulled up another stool and gestured for Joan to sit. They both watched as the youngest Elric slept, his chest rising and lowering at regular intervals.
"He's gotten better," Francis said. "He should have woken up a while ago, but he seems really out of it. I wonder what he's been doing for the past few days . . . "
"Probably searching for Edward," Joan said. She laid her hand on Alphonse's cheek. "The poor child."
Francis recalled back to the moment Alphonse had stepped through the Paris Leygate. He looked much disorientated, if his funny footwork meant anything. They'd caught him as he stumbled, and he had fallen into unconsciousness immediately afterward. They removed him from the roof and set him on a coach a floor lower.
Now he was sleeping, looking very much like a 13-year-old should.
"It's probably his first time travelling through a Leygate," Saint-Germain noted.
"Maybe we shouldn't have placed the Leygate on the roof," Joan said. "Especially when it's so high up."
"I'd really rather not put it underground, and seeing as our headquarters is stationed in a church, we can't risk placing it on ground level," Francis said, distracted. "But that's beside the point. If it really was his first time travelling through a Leygate, then the place where you put the Leygate shouldn't matter. The main factor is how his body is built." He wrapped his finger around his chin. "It's strange, though . . . "
Joan watched Francis uneasily. "What is?"
For a second there, the count was thinking intently, but then he snapped out of his musings with a sigh. "Well, I guess it can't be helped. I don't really know why he lost consciousness, probably due to fatigue, but it shouldn't happen that severely. There's a first for everything."
"I suppose," Joan said.
On the couch, Alphonse stirred. Francis and Joan turned their attentions on him. The boy was still pale and sweaty, but he had opened his eyes. He groaned and tried to sit up, but Saint-Germain pushed him back down.
He shook his head. "No. You should rest for a bit."
"How are you feeling?" Joan asked.
Alphonse rubbed his eyes. The two grown-ups were speaking to him in English, but he replied back to them in German, "I have a killer headache."
"I'll grab you some water," the Frenchwoman said in the same language, heading what looked to be downstairs.
"Where are we?" Alphonse asked Francis.
"Notre Dame," the man replied.
Alphonse's jaw dropped.
"Wh—?"
"When you say Notre Dame," he continued, interrupting the count, "do you mean the Notre Dame?"
"Well, yeah…"
"You build your Stronghold in the most ancient church in Paris?"
Saint-Germain rubbed his neck sheepishly. "It technically wasn't our idea, mostly . . . It was your father's. Because if Dee were to look for the Stronghold, he would never think of looking here. What sane person would put an underground network resistance in a church that looks ready to collapse? And this place isn't even underground! Dee would never look here."
"But still," Al said, "what if it does collapse?"
The count shrugged. "We reinforced the upper floors. It should hold."
Al was almost afraid to say it. ". . . What's underneath us?"
"Why, we have several more rooms like this." He gestured around the place. "Underneath all that is the actual church. Do you know why the roof of this church is higher than the ceiling inside?"
"To hold the bell?" Alphonse guessed.
"Well, yes," the count admitted. "Due to the instability of this monument, no one is allowed to go upstairs. Before we built this place, a floor overlooking the entire city was already built here. Have you heard the story 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame'?"
The boy nodded.
"The hunchback lived up here, where he could ring the bell when called for. This area is what the room we put the Leygate in became."
A spark lit up in Al's brain. "So you didn't put it on the roof!"
"Technically, we did, because the roof didn't have a roof to cover it to begin with, so we called it the roof. But no, I suppose it isn't on the roof in layman's terms. If we placed it on the actual roof, everyone would see, even though it's currently disguised as a church window."
Alphonse blinked, wondering what the man was referring to. And then he realized the church window was one of those multicolored works of abstract art that replaced the regular clear windows. It was certainly beautiful and well camouflaged if its designated area was indeed a church.
"And only one side of it looks like that," Saint-Germain added.
"So you mean if you were to put it up like a real window, the person travelling through it would . . ."
". . . fall to their death, yes," Francis confirmed, nodding.
Alphonse sweat-dropped. "Actually, I was going to say 'would be seen', but your way works too."
The count smiled.
Just then, Joan of Arc came rushing in with a cup of water. She handed it to Alphonse, who drank the water gratefully. When he finished, he lowered the glass and thanked her. Joan sat back down on her stool beside Saint-Germain.
"So what were you two discussing?" she asked.
"Just how this Stronghold works in general," the count answered.
"Are you two getting married here?" Alphonse asked out of the blue, startling the two adults.
Joan nearly jumped out of her seat. "Excusez-moi, Alphonse?" she said, reverting back to French due to her shock.
Al simply blinked his hazel eyes. "I don't know. It seems kind of weird, having a headquarters in a church if it served no other purpose than a good view."
"It's to hide from Dee too!" Francis insisted.
"Right," the boy continued, "perhaps you got set up here on purpose? Any fool could tell you two are in love, even a person like me. And I've just only met you. By the way, a very nice choice, picking Notre Dame to get married in."
"Excuse me," Joan said, "we admit nothing of the sort."
"But you don't deny it," he said, gesturing with his empty glass. "Am I right?"
"Just like your brother," the Frenchwoman said, shaking her head, "I can never get enough of him. But I have to admit, you're more subtle in your accusations than he is."
"So I am right."
"I never said—"
Saint-Germain narrowed his eyes. "Alphonse."
Joan stopped her sentence and looked at Al expectantly.
"What is it?" the boy asked.
"How old . . . are you?"
Alphonse bit his lip, wondering whether or not he should tell the truth. That reminded him of his objective: to find Edward. He didn't have time to be unconscious or involved in pointless banter. But . . . if the adults knew how old he actually was, they'd trust him more. Right?
"Something happened once," he started slowly. "It's really complicated, so I won't go into the details—I prefer not speaking of it if I could. But somehow, I ended up as a 17-year-old trapped in a 13-year-old's body."
The two French people were skeptical. "Really."
"I told you it was complicated," Alphonse sighed. "But yeah. It's the truth. I'm only a year younger than Edward in real time."
"Well, compared to him, you do look like you're a year younger," Francis said. "But how can you be four years older than you actually are?"
Alphonse made a sound like he was kissing his teeth. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
The count looked about to say more, but Joan interrupted him, expression dead serious. "We should get back to the matter at hand," she said.
"Yeah," the youngest Elric agreed. "We have to find Brother, and quickly."
"How are we supposed to do that?" Saint-Germain said. "We don't even know where he is."
"The last time I saw him," Alphonse said, "was when he was going out to sea in the Gulf of Mexico. I found a book at the hotel that was different from all the others we've read. Thing is, it was marked on a chapter involving the Lost City of Atlantis."
Both Saint-Germain and Joan tensed.
"What?" Alphonse said. "Is that important?"
Joan gestured for him to continue. "We'll explain later," she said. "We'll hear what you have to say first."
He nodded. "The Lost City of Atlantis is thought to be located right off the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. On the bookmark, however, Edward wrote the words: Danu Talis, 10,000, and Nick Fleming."
"You know who Nick Fleming is," the count said, checking off his mental list. "Well, Danu Talis is another name for Atlantis, in the Elders' language. The number 10,000 has to refer to the time when Danu Talis was destroyed. It's really no wonder why Ed went there, now, is there? Because you now know he's been associated with us."
"Yeah," Al said.
"But what I don't get," Joan said, "is why he went out to sea in the first place. It's not like he's going to find anything there. It's been 10,000 years. Everything—the rocks, glyphs, buildings—are long gone."
"That may be, but . . ." The boy trailed off. He knew Ed had gone for the transmutation circle there, but even still, it's been that long. There was almost a zero probability that it would still exist. And that adds to the mystery on why Ed suddenly disappeared.
"Edward wouldn't do that," Joan continued. "He wouldn't leave behind people he cares about on purpose. Something terrible happened to him that night."
"Maybe he drowned?" Francis offered.
A glare from both his soon-to-be-wife and a certain Elric shut him up.
"There's no hope," Alphonse said miserably. "He's gone. Edward's gone."
Edward sneezed.
Dora raised her head, spoon hovering near her open mouth. She tilted her head to the side, sensing distress. "Is everything all right, idiot boy?"
Said idiot boy rubbed his nose. "Yeah," he said. "I don't know—someone's talking about me."
"Hopefully about a good thing," the old woman said, finishing the rest of her food. "After you're done your dinner, could you sweep up the shop for me?" Without hearing Edward's consent, she got up from her seat. "Thank you. I'll be at the back of you need me."
She was up and gone before he could realize what she did.
"I'm only here for two hours and she's already messing with me," he said, shoving food into his mouth. Real food, mind you, not that gooey green crap he was forced to eat a few hours ago. "Sheesh."
A few minutes later, he was done his meal and cleaned up his dishes at the sink. Then he headed to the front of the shop and picked up the dusty broom in the corner. It was covered with cobwebs, just about the condition of everywhere else in the shop. He guessed the broom was just as old as the dust in this place.
Looking around for anybody watching, he clapped his hands together and fixed up the broom. As the alchemic reaction died away, he began sweeping and rearranging everything to make the store more spacious.
He righted empty picture frames and hung up the mirrors. He swept away the broken glass pieces and wiped away the dust. He polished the furniture and righted the pots of flowers. And then he put the broom down, heading out to get more light bulbs.
He wasn't a great technician, but the broken light bulbs just need to be replaced. That way, the shop wouldn't have to depend on only just one.
Such was the way of Equivalent Exchange.
First, he decided to head for the pawn shop down the street to exchange his old money with the new currency. He figured the guys working there would like a bunch of ten thousand or so bills of the early 20th century. It was still raining heavily, so he ended up running there.
The door dinged as he entered the store.
"How can I help you?" the burly man behind the cash register asked. His name tag said 'Toby'.
"Uh…" He rummaged for his money, the funding the university sent him every month—well, not anymore. He found them in his coat pocket and pulled them out. He threw the five packets at the man, searching for more. "Give me a sec. I think I hid them in my other pockets . . . Just need to find them."
"W-wha…?" the man stuttered, wondering who this guy was. He picked up the packets of bills, eyeing them closely.
"Oh, they're authentic," Edward told him, still searching for the money, face screwed up in concentration. "Hold on . . . Ah!" He held up two more packets. "Found 'em! Here you go!" He slapped them against the other man's face.
"S-sir," the cash register said. "What are you . . . ?"
"Can I exchange those for the proper currency?" Edward interrupted. "I'm in a hurry."
"This is a pawn shop, sir," the man said. "If you need a currency exchange, you have to talk to a b-banker, not me."
Edward narrowed his eyes. "Didn't you hear what I said?" The man cowered under his glare. "I said I was in a hurry!"
"I'm sorry!" the man cried. "P-please don't hurt me."
"Oh for Truth's sake," Ed mumbled. He bunched all the bills together, and held them out to the man. "This is 20th century currency. The bank will not accept this. That's why I came here, dumbass. Maybe if you do your job right, you'd realize that."
The man stared. "…S-So you're not going to hurt me?"
"Believe me," Edward said with a smile, "we're getting there."
The cashier shakily accepted the bills. "I'll go talk with the boss man. I'll be right back with you." The man ran off without a backwards glance.
Ed sighed and leaned against the counter, playing with a keychain. "Maybe I was a little too strong on him?" he murmured. He didn't really know how the 21st century worked. Or maybe that man was just a wimp. Probably the latter.
Awhile later, the cashier finally came back with another guy behind him. Edward guessed he was the one who owned the shop. His shirt read 'Joe'.
Joe held up the 20th century money to his face. "This yours?"
Edward propped his elbow up on the counter and leaned into his hand. "Yep."
Joe didn't seem to be particularly scary, but he certainly had the muscle tone to be a hard-core biker. But his eyes were kind and he had wrinkled behind his eyes that suggested he spent his whole life smiling. And here he was now, smiling, not even aware his employee was shaking like a Chihuahua.
"Well, it all seems to be real."
"Yep," the alchemist agreed. "All genuine and what-not."
"I'll accept it and provide you with the proper amount in exchange," Joe said. "Would you like a bag to carry all of it in?"
"Why?" Ed said. "Do I need a bag?"
The man just smiled. "You don't know how much early 20th century currency is worth nowadays, do you? Nearly all of the authentic bills are gone, and the coins are even rarer. Man, you've got yourself a good deal here. You're going to need a bag, all right. You're going to be carrying 60 grand home with you."
"Sixty?" Edward said. "I only have about a ten thousand worth, here."
"That's the currency of these bills," Joe said, holding up Edward's money. "But prices have dropped, so they're worth a lot more than they are. Can I ask you a question, kid?"
"You just did."
"How did you get all of this?" he asked.
Edward shrugged. "It's from a relative from long ago. I'm going to see if his bank account is still open. I'll store the access money there."
"Good idea, kid. You don't want to be robbed."
"Not like anybody can rob me," Ed said, shooting a glance at the very quiet cashier who was currently hiding behind his boss. Now he was completely gone.
"Why're you carrying so many on you?" Joe said. "It's dangerous, especially when you say you have a bank account. Why not store the money there?"
Ed sighed. "Trust me, big guy; it's hard with the condition I'm in. I travel around a lot, and with the . . . situations I get into, I can't find the time to run to the bank." Usually, I'm too busy running (away) to get to the bank.
"Yeah, all right," said Joe, reaching under the counter and taking out some bills. He began counting them at a really fast pace until he had about twenty five packets sitting on the table. "Yo," he ordered the cashier, "get a bag for me, will ya?"
Toby ran off to fulfill the request.
Edward watched him go. "You should really get a new person for the job."
"Yeah," Joe said. "But he's my kid. He's gotta take over the business when I'm gone."
"That's your son?" Ed asked. Now that he mentioned it, the two did look alike appearance-wise. Maybe they were related. "He's not like you, is he?"
Joe shrugged. "You gotta work with what you have."
The alchemist nodded. "That's true."
Then Toby came back with a black duffle bag. He began piling all the money in it. After he was done, he zipped up the bag and gave it to Edward. He then stored the 20th century currency into a brown box, giving it to his father.
"You have a good day," he said.
"Sure," Ed said, nodding in his direction.
"What are ya gonna do with that?" Joe asked. "Buy a yacht or go to the Bahamas?"
Edward just grimaced. "Eh, it's not really my style."
The blond then left the shop.
Outside, it was pitch dark except for the lights illuminating the street. Not many people were out, but some of the stores were still open. Edward found the idea of 'Open 24/7!' as too good to be true. He found a hardware store and entered, looking to see if they sold light bulbs.
He walked down the aisles and looked carefully at the shelves. He found the light bulbs at the very back, and he chose to get the fluorescent ones, because they would last longer. Dora wasn't going to have him around forever, so he decided to buy her extras for when she needed them.
He headed back up front to pay. The woman there greeted him. He handed her the items and the appropriate currency (but it took him a while because he had trouble counting the amount). He put back all the extra money (which turned out to be a lot) into his duffle bag. He zipped it closed, but not before the cashier saw.
Her jaw was a gaping mess. But she quickly closed it, clearing her throat, going back into professional mode. Not that there was anything particularly professional about a cashier's job. "Three boxes of fluorescent light bulbs." She pressed a button and the registered buzzed to the life. She tore Edward's receipt from the machine and handed it to him. "Will that be all?"
He took the receipt, staring dumbly at the cash register. He'd seen a machine before, but this was totally more complicated than the ones he'd encountered! They had registers in his other world, but none so advanced as this. A lot had happened in 88 years. And he knew a cash register was one of the many he would see.
Edward was still having trouble comprehending a contraption that could calculate one's total price and write it all down on a slip of paper. The cashier seemed to have noticed his silence, and tapped his arm.
"Sir?" she said.
"Uh, what?" Ed said intelligently. He seemed to have remembered where he was. "Oh, yeah. Yes, that's all, thanks."
But he was still staring at the register.
"Sir," the woman persisted. "Can I help you?"
"Well, uh," he began, and pointed at the cash register. "How does this work?"
He knew how the registers in his world worked, but they looked a little bit different, and he wanted to know. The woman looked taken aback by his request; she didn't seem to see it coming. Then her expression changed to confusion, like: Why is this guy asking me this question? How should I know?
"Ah, sorry," he said, grinning like an idiot, "I did it again. That's the problem with scientists. Well, see you later!"
After stepping out of the store and leaving the woman utterly stupefied, he decided to head back to Dora's place. With his duffle bag and light bulbs at hand, he set off. He stood outside on the street for a while, walking around in random circles, before he realized he was lost. And it was still raining.
"Goddammit."
Ooh, something is going to go down... BTW, Happy New Year my dear readers! It's going to be a great year! I hope you all have your new year resolutions... I know I do.
Thanks for sticking with me and providing me with the reviews and faves!
HAPPY NEW YEAR! :D
