A/N: Hi!Oh, I know what it's like when stories aren't updated that often (even though this STILL counts as a drabble-collection… though it's clearly more of a sequel… yeah… shut up). Anyway, I know you kinda lose interest, because you can't quite remember what happened before and so on, BUT I'll try to update this more often now, as I don't have a real chaptered story, so would like to know if you are still reading and will look forward to updates, or if you'd rather I'd focus more on drabbles… so review and let me know, it doesn't have to say any more than "I'm reading" or something… ;)

On to iiiiit!

2061

New Playmates

Robin came to the breakfast table the next morning smiling somewhat smugly.

"Last night seemed to have agreed with you?" Slade commented as the teen sat down.

"Oh, yes, it was exactly what I needed, thank you," Robin grinned back before focusing on the breadbasket.

"Maybe a bit more of the same thing…?" the man suggested, not so subtly.

"Huh?" Robin looked up from the piece of toast he had selected. "Oh, no, thanks Slade, I'm good."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, really. I might let you know if that changes, though…" Robin smirked.

"Are you expecting me to service you?" Slade said in a rather dangerous, flat tone.

"What? No… no, I didn't mean it like that. If you're not up for it, I'll hook up with someone else…" Robin shrugged.

Slade knew that if he stood up now and explained to the boy that he would, in fact, not even as much as see a drawing of another man's cock for as long as he lived, Robin would react badly. The teen would also object to being chained to his bed, although that thought had occurred to the man as well. However, Slade battled his instincts for the sake of the small progress he had been making with the young man. It was not easy, however, and a silver butter-knife got bent completely out of shape in the man's fist.

Robin, on the other hand, had the time of his life. He felt fantastic. He didn't even care that he had done the nasty with Slade, because the result outweighed that by far… and teasing the man was very fun as well… within reason, of course, since he didn't want anyone to die. This might not have been the best time, though, since he needed to bring something up.

"Errmm… you know I'm leaving tomorrow, right? The week is up." He had promised to stay seven days in exchange for Slade sending Rose and the medical team to save John's wife and newborn, but he didn't plan on hanging around any longer than that. He had all the comforts in the world here, but he belonged with his Mongrels.

"Yes, yes, I know. You'll leave in the morning, I suppose? Do you want breakfast first? If not, you need to tell William to cancel it."

"Um… no, I'll have breakfast…" Robin said, vaguely wondering why the man was talking about practical things like that, instead of sulking about his departure.

"Fine. Well, we should plan in some meetings this afternoon, then, to make sure we are all on schedule."

"Yes, of course…" Robin nodded. He was a little worried about the lack of interest in Slade's voice. "Sure, that's… good… I' ll… have my phone, if you need m- want anything…"

"I know."

"And… you know… today, if you want to play another game of chess or something…?"

"No, we have a lot of work to do, I'm afraid. If you are finished, let's go straight to the office, shall we?" the man suggested.

Robin nodded and swallowed his sandwich more or less whole, in order to keep up. He was feeling increasingly flustered.

What the hell am I doing? Slade is backing off, being professional, and here I am, trying to get him to PLAY with me? Oww… bad choice of words… I should be just as distant! On the other hand, why is he acting like this? Is he angry? Am I in danger? Wait, he… he DID have a good time last night, right? He's not… bored? I mean, he DID come on to me just before I turned him down, but… it could have just been an automatic thing… he might not have meant it… Fuck, if he's tired of me, he might just kill us all! But… no, be cool, Robin… I can't throw myself at him just because he's acting aloof, for God's sake! The teen took a calming breath as he was following the man into the office. He was sure everything would be just fine.

Slade wanted to chuckle out aloud, but that, of course, he couldn't and wouldn't do. After testing the waters and, as expected, gotten the cold shoulder, he had decided to use the same technique himself, and it had worked wonders in a matter of minutes. Robin was used to being pursued, almost courted in a way, and when the man took that kind of attention away, the teen obviously didn't quite know how to deal with it.

Good. Let him wonder… Slade smirked.

The day was intense; they wrote everything down, and discussed all the finer points until they were both as happy with them as they were going to get. Slade as a negotiator was as tough as ever, and, it might just be Robin's imagination, but he found the man even colder than usual. Not that the teen had tried to flirt to get his way, of course. He'd never do that. Much. Yes, he was ashamed of himself, but he was also trying to tell himself that he negotiated for the sake of hundreds of people, and if a bit of lip-licking and suggestive stretching would help, then he'd try it. Today, however, it had no impact what so ever, as far as Robin could see, and it worried him. He knew that he was a good negotiator, but it was also beginning to become clear that he had, at least partly, relied on the fact that Slade had some sort of soft spot for him… without that, Robin was struggling to get his way in some cases.

"I'd like to get a few more cell-phones. I intend to give them to team-leaders among the Mongrels, and, as soon as I teach them how to use them, we would be able to coordinate our work better."

"You'd also be able to coordinate an attack," Slade pointed out. "The answer is no."

"No, but… Slade, we wouldn't!" Robin said. Not the strongest argument in the book, perhaps. "The phones would only be used to work towards our shared goals."

"If you agree that every call will be monitored, and tracking-devices placed in the phones, then I might let you have a few."

"With tracking-devices you will know where my most important group-leaders are…" Robin growled.

"Yes. Isn't it lovely?" the man smirked.

Robin thought things over. Communicating by sending runners with messages was really too slow for the massive projects they would soon start up. There would be teams clearing rubble, teams building, and teams starting to work on the fields in Central Park. How could he hope to stay on top of all that without being able to contact the leaders?

"Fine! We're not planning a revolution, Slade. I've lost enough people in my life."

"As long as you try to remember that…" the man nodded.

The last meeting of the day was a full board-meeting that Slade had called only that morning. They were there a bit earlier than everyone else and, for once, Robin got to see the others arrive, realizing that many of them had assistants who then disappeared before the actual meeting started. These people seemed to be running back and forth between the conference room, the copier and the coffee-machine and looked stressed to death. No wonder, the teen thought, as a woman got slapped so hard for spilling some coffee that she collapsed on the floor.

Robin was standing next to Slade, and glanced at him, wondering if he would dare to help the woman in any way. The man, however, was looking rather intently in another direction, where a young man with strawberry blond hair had just brought Irena some notes. The woman sent the youngster away and smirked at Slade as she walked up to him.

"Good afternoon , sir. He's quite a treat, isn't he?"

"Quite. New assistant?"

"Straight from the slave administration academy. Very cute. Very naïve. He wouldn't stop blushing at all for the first week, once he realized what we do for a living."

"Is he… contributing to the business?" the man asked with a small leer on his lips.

"On, no. How is he going to be able to focus on papers and numbers if I show him how much fun cocks and pussies can be? But, of course, if you like him, I can send him over?"

The man's pause was far too long for Robin's taste.

"Thank you," Slade finally said, "But not right now, I think."

"Something else then, perhaps? You know where to find me. I still think you should treat young Robin here to a threesome at least."

"What, you're not going to offer me a discount by myself?" Robin said, forcing a grin on his face.

"I'd like to offer you a job?" the woman smiled.

"Well, if I tire of this one…" the teen chuckled.

"Or get fired…" Slade added with a cold smirk.

Irena chuckled and walked away.

"So… that's how it is… you see someone and have them sent to your bed?" Robin muttered quietly.

"Why not? They are only slaves after all," the man shrugged.

"You are as horrible as ever, aren't you?" the hero hissed.

"Thank you for noticing," Slade smirked.

It was difficult for Robin to act as if he was a loyal second-in-command in front of the board, but he let Slade do most of the talking, only making sure that the man stuck to what they had agreed on. When the meeting was over he had yet another stack of papers with notes to go through.

Robin sighed as he felt like he was surrounded and buried in papers and maps. He was in Slade's room at the moment, curled up on the couch, trying to make sure he knew about everything that was going to happen within the next weeks and trying to plan it. He sighed again, hoping dinner would be along soon.

"You don't have to do it yourself, you know. Delegate," Slade told him. "I have vast resources of people trained to plan these kinds of things."

"I have to do it myself!" Robin objected. "The Mongrel's won't trust anyone else, and it would be insulting to send one of your people to boss them around and make all the decisions!"

"Then don't. Let the people work behind the scene and present their reports as your own."

"But, I-"

"What do you know about building-sites and logistics? Do you know how much concrete to order a day? When to do the electronics and plumbing? How many people it will take?"

"No," Robin admitted.

"My people do. Use them."

"Okay… okay, thanks. Can you pick some people out and set it up?"

"I'll call you in a few days with the details," Slade nodded.

It felt weird, to Robin, that he wouldn't be there the next day, even after such a short time. It felt even weirder that Slade didn't insist that he'd stay so 'he could meet' the people the man would pick out. It was almost unsettling.

"Good… Well, the clearing-work has started, at least..."

"Don't forget the name-lists," Slade reminded him. "The board wants to see them as well."

"I have people working on them already, they might even be done by now. Someone has to type them up, though, because they will be hand-written. Speaking of that, we need more writing-supplies and paper."

"I'll arrange it."

"Really? Not afraid we'll write revolutionary things?" Robin smirked.

"Hmmm… you're right. You'll get pink paper and crayons."

"We could still do it with those though?" Robin said, a bit puzzled.

"Yes, but it would look stupid."

The teen laughed, feeling a bit more at ease now that Slade at least had shown his sense of humor again.

"Why can't you just believe that I want to live in peace?" he asked the man.

"Oh, I believe you do… it's the rest of the three hundred and ninety-four people I don't trust."

"Not even baby Rose?"

"Especially not her."

Robin snickered, but the man continued.

"I'm serious, Robin. When people gain a little, they soon want more. Yes, right now they might be grateful and focus on the bare necessities, but keep an eye on them, make sure you have many eyes and ears you can trust, because, boy, should there be an uprising, I will crush them all… and you will find that a glass-cage don't take that long to rebuild."

"I won't spy on my own people!" the teen snarled.

"Then you are a fool. But I'm looking forward to having you back within a few years or so."

Robin bit his tongue. The fact was that he had a feeling Slade might be right.

The man gave him a serious look.

"You are wondering if you can do it, aren't you? Leading a loyal group is one thing, but can you keep a rebellious group in check? Can you control them? Can you punish them?"

"Why… why would I need to punish anyone? Nothing like that is going to happen!" Robin snorted, but his heart was beating a little harder.

"Why? When a small group threatens the lives of your whole community, and won't see reason? You will need to, trust me. But don't worry, Robin. I'll be here. I'll help you."

"I won't need any help!" the teen claimed.

"Still, when you come and ask me for it, I'll help. It might be years, it probably will be, but it will happen. Leaders are always questioned… challenged. Learn how to put a stop to those things quickly. Don't show any weakness."

"I'm not you. I'll do things differently."

"I'll better order the glass, then…" the man smirked.

The next morning found Robin racing through the streets on a motorcycle. It had been a gift from Slade, but Robin had accepted it anyway. It would come in handy, and was easier to drive on the often rubble-filled streets than a car. It was a light and nimble thing and, since it was made after Slade had gained power, it wasn't any particular model, only Slade's insignia and a model number was stamped onto the frame, which was, Robin had to admit, surprisingly modest. He would have expected it to have 'Terminator' written all across the fuel tank or something, coming from Slade.

The teen secretly enjoyed driving without a helmet or safety-gear. He could afford to be an idiot after just having his healing abilities topped off. The bike was eerily quiet as it ran on electricity, but, he was happy to discover, this wasn't a sluggish vespa-like creature, this engine had serious power! Sometimes he wished that Slade's genius could have been put to better use back in his own time… Well, scratch 'sometimes'.

A few days later and Slade had not been in touch. Robin jumped when the phone rang early one morning, but it turned out to be William, letting him know that a small group of people with different specialties would be meeting with him that afternoon, if it was convenient. It was, Robin decided, and set off to see if there was any hot water for a quick shower.

Life out in the city was nothing like the luxury of the Empire State Building. The different groups of Mongrels tended to move around quite often, afraid that settling down would let Slade's troops find them more easily. Since the truce that had changed a bit, but Robin still noticed that his people were very uneasy about making it known which buildings were occupied; the windows were still mostly blacked out, there were never any toys or laundry outside, and the children, when playing in the streets, were being kept under close guard.

Robin had a room of his own, which indeed was a luxury, since the few really habitable rooms were often shared. Robin wanted to be able to come and go as he pleased, however, and had opted for a small space in the cellar with a boarded up window and dodgy wiring. The only electric thing was a naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling, though, so it didn't much matter. His bed, which had always been bad, but, after spending time in Slade's, now seemed worse, consisted of different layers of cardboard and bits of carpet, topped off with two blankets. There used to only be one, but thanks to Rebecca and her resources, there had been enough so that even Robin had, in the end, accepted one extra. After all, being cold wouldn't kill him.

And cold it was. It was still only spring in New York, and though the sun made more and more appearances, some days the air still smelled of snow. Robin made his way over to the building where they had set up something of a public bathhouse, but that shouldn't be confused with a public indoor swimming-pool. There were no waterslides here, in fact, there were no pools, but there was running water, led here from one of the city's pipes, and, although it was cold, the Mongrels had set up a number of ways to heat it, from big pots on simple electric heaters, to a large wood-fired water-heater which had been a real find in the ruins of one of the older buildings, where it had been stored away to rust long before the wars.

"Hi, can I get a bucket?" Robin asked and was soon showed to an empty shower-stall with a large bucket of steaming water in one hand, and a towel in the other. The stalls, running all along the walls, were only separated by plastic sheets or even cut-up garbage-bags. They all had an actual shower in them, with cold water, and the only warm water you got was in the bucket. Outside every stall, joining it, was a very small changing area, also closed off with whatever was available. The arrangement was not very private, but it couldn't be helped. The women had one side and the men another, but if you really wanted to peek, gaps in the plastic tended to allowed it.

Still, even though this had bothered Robin a lot in the beginning, the Mongrels were used to it, and were perhaps a bit more unashamed of their bodies because of it. Robin had gotten used to it too, he had to, if he wanted to blend in. Sure, he could have taken a bucket and closed himself up in another room, but that would only alienate him from the others, and he hadn't wanted that; he had wanted to be part of a group again very badly. He wanted to belong.

He undressed and hung his outfit, which had arrived by a carrier after being cleaned, over a rack. He left the bucket in the changing cubicle and went into the shower-one, taking a deep breath as he let the freezing water wash over him. There was a soap-dispenser on the wall and a few minutes later he was lathered up.

In the summer, bathing was much more pleasant, even though the showers were then moved outside, into protected enclosed streets and yards. They filled large, black garbage-bags, stolen of course, with water and cleverly hooked each of them up to a shower-head. After that they let them hang in the sun all day, making the water nice and warm for a rather long shower every evening if they so wished. But it was still too cold for that.

Robin reached for his hot water and used a jug to pour the water over himself and rinse his hair.

"Robin? You in there?"

"John! Yeah, just finishing up. Do you want the rest of my water?" the teen offered, since John was a big man and hot water wasn't to be wasted.

"Nah, I'm working in no-man's land today, gonna get quite whiffy anyways," the man guffawed. "I heard you had a meeting?"

"Yeah, this afternoon… lots of details. Why? Wanna come?"

"Hell no, I would be bored out of my mind, I'd rather do some real work…" the man teased.

"Well, tiny little me have to stick to planning…" Robin chuckled.

"Not so tiny from where I'm standing."

"John!"

"What? Just checking to see if Amanda was right about you."

"Amanda was checking me out?"

"She was six months pregnant and horny as hell. She was checking old man Stone out too."

"Sounds like you weren't doing your job," Robin chuckled as he began to dry himself.

"I said she was pregnant, right? Besides, I have a real bastard of a boss who insists on people actually leaving bed to work from time to time."

"What an ass," Robin smirked as he pulled on his underwear.

"That's what Amanda said."

Robin chuckled again and, after pulling his pants on, he stepped out from behind the sheet. His outfit might not be completely clean, but he had lived with a lot worse, they all had.

"How is she and little Rose?"

"Just fine, Amanda orders you to have dinner with us tonight."

"I'd better obey then," Robin grinned.

"You are a very smart boy," the gigantic man grinned back. "Trucks have arrived with… porta-potties, I think the drivers called them."

"Good, tell them to-"

"They just dumped them off and left, actually," the man interrupted.

"Damn… typical."

"Well, I like that we make then nervous," John grinned.

"Great, then you'll love logging those things half way across our territory, then… come on, we better get started…"

Improving their living-standards while living in what still looked like a war-zone, was an monumental task, and Robin had barely known where to start. Just throwing houses up was not an option, since there was very little clear ground. Builders would come in to repair the ones that could be saved, tear down the one's that couldn't and clear the way for new ones, all with the help of Mongrel workers, but that would take time.

Making life more comfortable, and especially more sanitary, in the mean while, was therefore of the essence. The sewer-system only worked in some parts, in others it was blocked or collapsed, meaning that you could throw things in, but it would most likely stay there.

Robin had thought of installing septic tanks, but that was too much work, so portable toilets had been chosen. It was still a step up from the different solutions used now, which consisted of using anything from the broken drains to buckets. Washing, both clothes and themselves would be next, which meant they needed better ways to heat water. Robin hoped the group he was meeting had some ideas. With almost four-hundred Mongrels, spread out in several groups, it wouldn't be easy to not only come up with the resources but also divide them out equally, so they all could reach them. These truckloads of about fifty portable toilets would not go very far.

The power-supply had been extended a great deal, however, although with temporary industrial-sized versions of extension-cords, but more houses now had electronic heaters, cooking-plates and light. Washing-machines was the logical next step, in fact there were some public ones, but they all required at least water and power, and, preferably, working sewers as well. Robin wished he had spent a little less time in a modern city growing up, because he knew there used to be eco-friendly houses that probably had great inventions regarding sewers and water-conservation and recycling, but he just didn't know how it all worked. Hell, he didn't even know much about how the usual setup worked. There had been very little time to try to find any information when people were struggling to even stay warm, but now, hopefully, times would get better… after they had hauled fifty toilets several blocks on simple carts…

The group Robin met in the afternoon turned out to consist of ten people, six men and four women. One of the men the teen recognized: Alan Miller, the city planner. Slade, however, did not show up, something that put Robin in a strangely tense mood.

The group, or the committee, as Robin decided to call them, had all done their homework and seemed to know what to do. The Mongrel area was, after all, not the only place in the world destroyed by war, most of the cities had looked like this when Slade had taken over and rebuilding was still going on everywhere. For the Mongrels it was slightly different, however, because they had to live on the building-site, so to speak, even though they could mostly move a bit out of the way.

"Mobile living-quarters are the answer. They can be driven in and parked on every available surface, and even stacked on top of each other. Every four units can have a shower unit, a utility unit and a toilet-unit," Michael McDowell, the construction manager, said. He was a burly, balding man with a mustache, and seemed to have both feet on the ground.

"Is there enough space to house four hundred people, though?" the logistic expert

Nathalie Davis asked. She was in her thirties, a brunette with a short hairdo which seemed to be chosen because it was easy to manage more than flattering. Her eyes were sharp, though and you could almost hear her brain ticking away, making plans and analyzing the situation.

"Not really, but there are some houses in rather good condition," Alan said.

"Good condition? They all seem about to fall down! Really, how people can put up with these conditions, even if they are sla- Mongrels…" Tracy Higgins said. She was thehealth and safety-overseer, and, though it had not been lost on Robin that all the committee-members had last names, and therefore either belonged to free families or had been freed themselves, only she had let her true feelings about the former slaves show. She was there to ensure the safety of Slade's workers, not Robin's, and the teen had a feeling that the man had included her just to screw with him. She was well in her forties, but dressed in a way she probably thought was youthful, with bright colors and her hair pulled up in a pony-tail with a purple scrungie. It really didn't suit her age or her long, slightly buck-toothed face, but, of course, Robin would have liked her if she hadn't been such a bitch.

The rest of the members were Kaitlyn Powers, who was a very cute red-headed twenty-five year old and surprised Robin by being thesewerage maintenance specialist. André Gariot was the medical consultant and looked very prim and proper, with graying temples and wire-rimmed glasses. He had a French accent which Robin just loved, because it reminded him that there was a world outside of central New York. Ricardo Gomez, who was an architect, clearly had Spanish roots, and it wasn't just the name that gave it away. He had serious brown eyes, which looked a little droopy, and was no that much taller than Robin. The teen liked him, however, since he seemed very interested in the proceedings. Frank Harrison was the electrician, thin as a rake and tall as well. He almost looked like he had gotten a few shocks in his life, but seemed optimistic and easy-going. Janice Myer, who worked with human resources, a field that was slightly more literal in 2061, was the opposite, as she seemd cold and calculating to Robin, but maybe she was just focused and efficient. She wouldn't be brining any muffin-baskets to their meetings, though, that was for sure. Her hair was cut in a strict, short bob and was colored a dark brown, almost black, with just a tell-tale hint of a gray hair here and there. Finally there was Perry Leeson, the plumbing supervisor. He looked like the archetype of a plumber too, in a faded t-shirt, jeans, closed cropped light hair and rather round around the middle. He seemed to know Frank the electrician, though, and the two of them had a rough but hearty jargon.

With the exception of Mrs Higgins, they all seemed useful and competent, and, by the end of the meeting, Robin was pleased. He had gotten the basics for a plan to move forward and all of them had a fair share of homework to do for their next meeting in two days.

"Quite a lot of work to do, huh?" Alan said as the rest of the group was leaving. The man seemed to linger, which both bothered Robin and gave him a fluttering feeling in his stomach.

"Yeah…" he sighed, "but it will all be worth it."

"I'm sure it will. I just wanted to say that I'm happy to be working with you. This is a chance for me to put my own mark on New York City… it doesn't get much bigger than that…"

"Great, people always do their best when they are passionate about something," Robin smiled.

"You are right… by the way, do you want to get a cup of coffee?"

Robin, taken somewhat by surprise, had nodded before he had thought it through.

"Yeah… sure… do you know a place?"

"Yes, right around the corner," the man smiled. "I'm buying."

"You better, I don't think I have any of those points you people use for currency," Robin realized. The meeting had been held outside of the Mongrel territory, for safety-reasons, but they weren't too far from no-man's-land.

"Perhaps you should ask Slade for a debit-card?" Alan suggested.

"I'd rather lick his shoes… and I'm not in to stuff like that, just to clear things up," the teen muttered.

"Care to tell me what kinds of things you are into?" the city-planner grinned cheekily and then laughed as Robin blushed. "Just joking, here we are. I'm hungry, I'm getting a sandwich too. You?"

"Thanks, I'd love one… if that's okay?"

"You kidding? Treating the boss might get me some privileges, right?" the Italian-looking man grinned and waggled his eyebrows comically, making Robin snicker. He wasn't sure if the man was really flirting with him, or just joking around.

The place was a small café, and they took a seat by the window. It looked surprisingly like a normal coffee-shop from Robin's time, but there were fewer adverts and the menus over the register were very confusing. As far as Robin could work out the shop offered different things depending on what rank you were. The lowest could only get a cup of coffee with sugar or milk and a small cookie, and the highest could get a whole simple meal if he or she wanted to. Robin thought Alan must be pretty high on the scale because he came back with two very nice prawn sandwiches as well as some cool drinks.

"I thought we'd finish with the coffee instead, it really doesn't go with shellfish," the man shrugged and took a sip of his juice. Robin was about to answer when his phone rang. He glanced at the display and swallowed.

"Hi, Slade, I'm busy, can I call you back?" the teen asked.

"No," the man simply told him.

"Errr… okay? Sooo… what did you want?"

"How did the meeting go?"

"Great, just great… most of them I didn't hate."

"I assume Tracy opened her mouth," the man chuckled.

"She did. Please fire her?"

"No, the board wanted her on the team to make sure our workforce are not taken advantage of," Slade explained.

"No, of course, that would be terrible. Let the Mongrels work themselves to death instead."

"Exactly."

"Ha-ha."

"So, busy, are you? Does it have anything to do with Alan?"

"Why would you think that?" Robin asked, a bit nervously.

"Oh, I don't know… You've already met, he's a nice-looking man…"

"Not… not really… I mean…. he is?" Robin babbled.

"Yes. I enjoy looking at him myself. Especially his head. In particular when it's right in my crosshairs."

To be Continued….

A/N: Thank you Pri-ThePuppeteer, MyLittleBird, noirakasha, mmf25, BrillianceoftheMoon, RezRagnarok and RezRagnarok, who, on Deviant Art, helped me with the names for the committee-members. I decided to name them, since I'm sure they will be mentioned further on, but you don't have to bother learning their names, I doubt they will get many lines… ;)

About the names; I mixed and matched among the suggested ones, since not all of you gave me both first and last names, so they might be a bit different from your suggestions…

In this chapter I tried to show the Mongrels living-conditions a bit more and the plans how to fix it, but I'm no expert at these things, so if you spot something I've missed that should be focused on, please tell me! I didn't write anything about food, really, but I plan to get to that later…

I'll start working on the next chapter asap, but remember to tell me if you are still reading, kay?