Brian and Justin finally stumbled back to their campsite and the infamous tent around 2:00 a.m. Although his partner could barely see above the SUV's steering wheel, after being violently thrown off the mechanical bull and injuring his ass (as well as his pride) yet again, Brian had had no choice but to allow an only slightly inebriated Justin to drive them back to their campsite. Of course, by the time they got back, Brian had a pounding headache to go along with his sore ass, mainly because a certain blond insisted on singing the main theme song from the musical Oklahoma several times at the top of his voice; where the HELL did he even get the lyrics to all these musicals? He made a mental note to KILL Jennifer when they returned home to the loft – that HAD to be the source for his partner's seemingly unlimited supply of tortuous musical song lyrics. And the fucker was taking an inordinate glee in singing them – over and over and over and over again.
"You're doing fine, Oklahoma – Oklahoma – OK!" Justin enthusiastically sang out in his grand finale as Brian clamped a long-fingered hand over his partner's mouth.
"OK is RIGHT! Will you shut the fuck UP already? I can't take any fucking MORE, Justin!" Brian pinched his nose in pain, trying desperately to quell the migraine he felt quickly coming on as he glared at the blond, who simply giggled at his misery.
"Ow! There you go again with that vampire shit!" he snarled, as he pulled his hand back quickly where Justin had bit hard into the fleshy part of his palm.
Justin huffed, indignant. "Well! I guess there's no accounting for good taste!" he harrumphed.
"Oh, my God – If I ever heard anything in good taste, maybe I'd know!" he groused at the blond. "My head is fucking killing me – give me a break, okay?" he pleaded now; if reason wouldn't work, maybe begging would – anything to tone his headache down. He shook his head in exasperation as he walked over and gingerly sat down on a large, fallen tree branch. "This damn camping trip has been one huge, fucking mistake from the very beginning!" he growled. "God! How did I ever let myself get talked into doing this with you?" Brian knew the second those words fell from his lips that he had made a mistake. Uh, oh. He looked over at his crestfallen partner's face, whose eyes were suddenly bright and tearful. He watched Justin purse his lips together firmly before he whispered, "Well, don't let me fucking keep you here," he replied, ice dripping from his tone. "Take the goddamned SUV back into the big, bad city and I'll just stay here by myself in the tent! Unlike you, my ass is in tip-top shape and I can still WALK to the lodge for a ride! I'm sure I can find some big, burly, studly coal miner who would be just thrilled to let me hitch a ride back into Pittsburgh with him….for the right incentive!" He wiggled his perky little butt dramatically before abruptly turning on his heels and stomping down toward the bank, eventually plopping himself down dejectedly near the lake with his back to his partner.
Damn. Brian knew that was the wrong choice of words; it wasn't that he wasn't glad to be with Justin; he just felt like an alien from another planet here. He had gotten a slight taste of camping during the Liberty Ride when Justin was in Hollywood; that had been more than enough for him. Instead of looking forward to slapping his partner's butt in the midst of some playful fucking, he had spent the entire time slapping his leg or arm every time a mosquito landed on it. But his partner had wanted to go camping so badly, he just couldn't say no. Now that decision was coming back to haunt him, and he had managed to hurt his sensitive partner's feelings in the process. Through the moonlight overhead, he watched as Justin's shoulders drooped and he heard a mournful sigh escape the blond's lips; he knew, headache and sore ass or not, he had better make amends – now.
He slowly and carefully half-walked, half-stumbled down the bank toward his partner, who he saw hugging himself as if he were cold; he hadn't really noticed that until now that the still, mountain air was noticeably colder at night, because normally he had a very warm, soft Justin blanket snuggled against him. He wondered if he was going to have to do without that tonight.
Justin saw his partner approaching him out of the corner of his eye; he deliberately turned his head away to the side to ignore him. If Brian was going to try and grovel, he would have to do it up right. It wasn't as if he had forced the man to come with him – he just had to promise some hot, passionate sex under the stars and the man was like putty in his hands. Apparently, though, his partner had decided that wasn't enough for him. Well, he could do just fine out in the wilderness by himself, thank you very much. At least if he had a hunting rifle, maybe to ward off the grizzlies. But he wasn't about to let his partner know that the thought of spending any time out here by himself unnerved him; the man wasn't going to get that satisfaction. As soon as Brian left, he would just hightail it down to the lodge and spend a few days there by himself; let his partner guess what happened to him, and who he was with. It would serve the man right. So there – take THAT, Lonesome Cowboy.
He heard a slight rustling of clothing and smelled Brian's distinctive scent of cologne as the brunet delicately set his still-sore ass down next to him. He heard Brian sigh – he wasn't sure if it was in pain, exasperation, regret, or a combination thereof – before he felt a gentle grip on his stiff, tightly tense shoulder. "Justin," Brian began softly. Unfortunately, the only reaction from his partner was to twist his body enough that he could shrug Brian's hand off his shoulder. Okay….must do more groveling…..
"Sunshine," he purred softly, drawing the syllables out slowly. Usually just the name of his partner, (whether his given name or his nickname), with just the right tone of voice – a little tender and a whole lot sexy – achieved the desired result. But this time, Justin remained stonily silent as he continued to sulk. Brian sighed again and rolled his eyes, making sure the other man didn't see him do it; he could just hear his reaction from that motion.
Brian loathed having to verbalize his feelings, even after being with this complicated drama princess for several years now. But Justin had managed to somehow coax his feelings out in the open when necessary, despite his abhorrence of it. He steeled himself now for just such an occasion. "Justin," he began again gently, taking a breath. "You know I always enjoy being with you. It's not you, Sunshine….." he tried to explain, gesturing with his arms in emphasis; he wasn't sure if his partner was actually listening or not, because there was no discernible reaction from the blond. "But I'm just not cut out to be a Boy Scout," he admitted. At least that comment definitely produced a slight snort from his partner. Better than nothing. "I feel as comfortable here as I would be having tea with the Ice Queen Mother – and I don't mean Elizabeth. Or going to the opera with Theodore. Or going clothes shopping with Emmett for a new spandex tangerine workout suit." He thought he finally saw a slight smile appear on Justin's face, but from his angle it was hard to tell for sure.
"But during the past week, we've had a hailstorm, bears, and a sunken canoe that totally ruined my new Gucci loafers. Not to mention the three times that one of my most cherished and valued possessions received damage. And that doesn't even touch the fucking clown hair I received at the hands of that demon hair stylist." He peered over at his partner and now distinctly saw a smile break out. Of course he WOULD find the orange hair funny – little twat. "And let's not forget the wonderful cuisine you're tried to pawn off on me as gourmet – I mean, come on, Sunshine! Spam and Taylor Egg In a Can Omelets?"
"Taylor McMuffins,"Justin softly corrected him. Brian smiled; at least they were getting somewhere now. Those were the first words Justin had spoken aloud since he had sat down next to him.
"Okay," he agreed congenially enough. "McMuffins. I stand corrected. And let's not even go into all those dorky hats – or the, God, can I even call it that? Singing – John Denver and musical divas notwithstanding. By the way, remind me again to kill your mother when we get home."
"But you still have Tiny," Justin pointed out softly, now apparently, finally, beginning to see the humor in the whole situation. Brian breathed a soft sigh of relief at his partner's apparent relenting.
Brian chuckled a little. "Yeah…..Tiny. I can certainly see where he got that name," Brian confided to him under his breath. "Not a pretty sight – and that's with clothes on." He pretended to shudder for dramatic effect, evoking yet another slight smile from his partner. It still wasn't quite the full-fledged, genuine smile he was looking for, though. "But Tiny isn't what made this week tolerable. It was you."
He heard Justin breath out a slight huff of annoyance. Uh, huh…..not quite the effect I was going for here. Maybe it was that word "tolerable." He winced as he realized what he had said. Time to backtrack a little here. "What I meant was…..Despite my feeling like a total fish out of water here – trout in this case – despite feeling totally out of my comfort zone , I've actually enjoyed being with YOU. I just wish I was enjoying being with you somewhere else – somewhere with running water, a bathroom, and a soft bed."
He waited in silence for his partner's response uncomfortably. Was his explanation enough? I'm trying to be truthful here, Sunshine. Give me a little leeway.
Finally, after a few seconds, Justin finally turned to face him. "At least you still had the Charmin," he pointed out helpfully.
Brian smiled. "It wasn't my little tush that needed it, Sunshine. I seemed to recall that item being at the top of your supply list before we left."
Justin agreed, "No, I beg to differ, Mr. Kinney," he retorted playfully now. "It may not have been your little tush, as your call it, but it still belongs to YOU." He looked down now, uncharacteristically seeming a little embarrassed. "I was just protecting your interests."
Brian curled his lips under and peered over at his partner, his eyes twinkling in mischief. "How very charitable of you, Mr. Taylor. I didn't realize how thoughtful you were being. I'll have to make sure I pay a little extra special attention to your little tush…..tonight, hopefully." He looked over at the blond with his eyebrows raised in a silent question.
Justin was silent for a few seconds as he twisted his upper body around to take a quick look at the subject matter in question. "I don't think it has any prior engagements tonight," he announced solemnly. "I think…..we could come to a mutually agreement arrangement, Mr. Kinney."
Brian smiled broadly now. "I was hoping you – and your ass – would see it my way, Sunshine." He nudged the blond with his shoulder before reaching out to grab the pale neck and pull him flush against his chest before bestowing a kiss on his cheek.
"Is that the best you can do?" Justin quipped. He squealed as the other man grabbed his waist and proceeded to tickle him just where he knew it would get the most vocal response. That wasn't quite the action Justin had been wanting but he couldn't help the giggles that erupted from his lips. "Brian…..stop it!" he protested in between fits of laughter, as he tried wriggling away from the other man's relentless pursuit without success; Brian had too firm a hold on his waist. The two men finally fell to the ground with Brian on top of him. The brunet gently but firmly grasped the smaller hands and pinned them over Justin's head as he took advantage of their position to finally give his partner what he had wanted all along. As their lips met and began their familiar dance, all hurt and anger promptly melted to be replaced by something much more pleasurable.
As Justin finally was allowed to come back up for air several minutes later, he managed to mumble breathlessly, "Brian….mosquitoes…..tent."
Brian already had succeeded somehow in removing Justin's shirt and was working on the buttons of his jeans when he realized, reluctantly, that Justin had a point. Nothing like a barrage of mosquito bites to kill the moment, not to mention the itching later. Swooping down to place one more passionate kiss on the pink lips, he whispered huskily to his partner, "Let's go make some whoopee, Sunshine," before he grudgingly released his hold on his partner and stood up, leaning down to grasp the waiting hands so he could gently pull the other man up into his arms to hug his body to his own tightly.
"Brian…Unless you want to run a three-legged race with me, you're going to have to let me go," Justin said, giggling still. Brian was still a little sloshed from his go-round at the honky-tonk and was acting just a little goofy as a result. Justin decided he didn't exactly dislike it, though.
"Huh!" Brian protested; Justin squealed as Brian suddenly scooped down and picked him up in his arms like he was carrying a baby – a rather big, blond baby. "I'm a gonna have my way with you, Maw," he drawled, smiling, in his newly-acquired Southern accent. "The young'ns are gone for the night and it's our turn to part-ee," he declared, as Justin quickly wrapped his arms around the other man's neck to keep from falling. With Brian's current inebriated state, there was a distinct possibility that he might inadvertently do just that. That would certainly put a damper on their pending plans for a good round of old-fashioned fucking if Brian managed to drop him on his head – or his ass; he decided that would be even worse.
"Lead the way, Paw," Justin finally drawled in kind, giggling. Brian would probably have a fucker of a hangover tomorrow, but for now the blond was going to take full advantage of his offer.
"Now you're talkin', Sunshine," the brunet asserted, lips curled under in that wonderfully endearing look that was pure Brian. He swung Justin around to face the camp as he teetered precariously for a few seconds before righting himself. Justin sighed a silent breath of relief as his partner started slowly trudging back up the bank toward their tent. Justin took advantage of Brian's occupied hands gripping his waist to start unbuttoning the other man's shirt; no point in wasting valuable time here, he decided.
He had just succeeded in unbuttoning the last button and was relishing in the feel of the warm, taut chest currently being explored under his probing fingers when he felt Brian stop abruptly. "What the fuck?" he heard him say, as he noticed the other man squinting at a white square sheet tacked up to a nearby tree. "What the hell is that?" he asked his partner, as he gently lowered Justin to the ground and walked closer to the tree.
In the moonlight overhead, the two men could make out that it was some type of notice, because there was definitely writing on it, but it was just a little too dim to decipher the words. Brian fished around in his jeans pocket and located the disposable lighter he had stashed there previously. Flicking it to life, he held it up close to the tree so the crudely-written note could be read:
Attention: West Virginia Revenuers
Don't Tread On Our Property! We Will Defend our God-Given Right to Make Our Own Moonshine! Stay Away! We Will Defend The Constitution With Our Dying Breaths! You Have Been WARNED!
Brian and Justin stared at each other in a combination of amusement and disbelief. "Are they fucking serious?" Brian wondered, shaking their head. "What – are they afraid the cops are going to come and take their corn cobs away? Or maybe come and break their widdle stills?"
Justin giggled. "I guess their priorities are a little different than ours," he observed, smiling.
"Speaking of which," Brian stated, not really giving the note much notice; he had more important matters to carry out. "Where were we, Sunshine? I believe we were just about to exercise one of our God-given rights, too….." Leering at the other man now, he scooped him back up in his arms and carried him hastily over to their tent, concentrating intently on trying to see where they were going while they were kissing each other madly. Justin managed to kick the tent flap open just before Brian unceremoniously plopped his partner down on the sleeping blanket. "Time to do some plowing, Maw," he declared before his he roughly ripped the other man's jeans open with his hands and the brunet head swooped down to do just that.
"Do you know what time it is?" Michael whispered to his co-conspirator from behind the tree. "Ben's going to wonder if I got eaten by a grizzly this time. It's got to be after 2:00 am."
"Oh, chill out, Michael," Emmett scolded him. "This is Brian and Justin we're talking about. Did you really think they'd retire to their little fucking palace at a decent hour? Do you want to do this or not?" he asked his friend pointedly.
"Well, we're already here and we've already got the sign up – we might as well go all the way now," he groused. "At least they did read the sign – but judging from Brian's reaction, I don't think they took it too seriously," he observed as he peeked around the large oak tree trunk approximately 25 feet from the Justin and Brian's tent. He could hear their boisterous plowing from even their location over here; it didn't take an expert to tell that both men were presently thoroughly enjoying themselves, and oblivious to their presence.
"Well, I'd say from the sound of things, they are properly unclothed for the occasion, at least," Em told his friend enthusiastically. "Let's go," he urged the other man, tugging at his arm.
"Are you sure this is going to work?" Michael asked him doubtfully. "I've never heard of this before. It sounds crazy to me."
Em looked at him patronizingly. "Well, what do you think my cousins and I did back home in Alabama when we wanted to have a little fun? This'll work – trust me. They won't know what hit them….but I guess that's the point, isn't it?" he asked, smiling evilly. "Just get ready to run as soon as they hear it, because believe me, they won't be staying in that tent after this; I don't care how much they're enjoying their little adventure."
"Okay," Michael hesitantly agreed, reaching in his parka jacket to bring out the ammunition. "You got the match for the camp stove?" he inquired.
Emmett grinned. "Right here," he assured him, as he held up a box of stick matches. "Come on," he urged him again. "They're way too busy to notice us right now – no time like the present."
Michael nodded, smiling conspiratorially now as the two men quietly approached the folded-up camping stove located nearby. Slowly and painstakingly taking their time, they managed to erect the camp stove on its stand with a minimal amount of sound; from the increasingly vocal reaction coming from the two men in their tent, they definitely would not have heard anything.
"Okay," Em said, nodding satisfactorily as he turned the propane knob and lit the match; a blue and yellow flame rose promptly as the combustion took place. "Hand me the can. It's going to take a few minutes before it heats up and then….look out!" He clapped his hands quietly in glee. "This is going to be better than the fake bear!" he whispered, a broad smile on his face. He almost hated to do this to Justin, but he was with Brian, and pulling the proverbial wool over that man's eyes was just too good to pass up.
"I hope you know what you're doing," Michael whispered to him a little fearfully. "If he ever finds out I'm involved with this…let's just say it wouldn't be pretty," he confided to Em. "But I have to admit – it's been fun," he declared, laughing quietly. He handed the can of baked beans over to his friend. "Any other time, Brian would actually find this funny, too…as long as it was happening to someone else. In high school, he could give as good as he got, believe me. You remember the judge that was stuck to the toilet seat at Hobbs' trial? That had Brian written ALL over it."
Emmett smiled as he placed the medium-sized tin can directly on the rapidly-heating burner. "Then you're doing Brian proud, Sweetie, believe me," he assured his friend, grinning. "Now let's back away from here before the fun begins. I want to see this." Fortunately, there was still ¾ of a full-moon left so they should have plenty of light for what they needed.
As they peered out from behind their oak tree, Michael asked, "Are you sure this is going to work?" Five minutes had passed and there was no apparent change in the can sitting on the stove. "Maybe it's supposed to be refried beans, or lima beans. Shit – there's so many beans! Are you sure you use baked beans?"
Emmett glared at him self-righteously. "I'll have you know you're talking to a down-home country boy," he informed his friend. "Trust me – it's baked beans. I'm not sure why you use them, or even how it works. I just know it does," he said confidently, nodding his head for emphasis.
Michael shivered as he continued to eye the stove dubiously. It was starting to get chilly and he was beginning to wish he was back at the lodge in his and Ben's warm, king-sized bed instead of standing here jiggling his feet back and forth trying to stay warm. "Two more minutes," he warned Em. "Then I'm out of here."
"Mmmm," Justin moaned in ecstasy, writhing in delicious torment as Brian continued to languorously lap at his cock, his head bobbing up and down in a perfect, tortuous rhythm. No one knew how to give him as much pleasure as his partner. They had performed this sensual ritual so much over the past few years they both knew how to bring each other to the brink of absolute bliss before teasingly pulling back to prolong their satisfaction as long as possible. Justin would never grow tired of this game if he lived to be a hundred years old.
"Delicious," Brian mumbled huskily as he released his suctioning hold on the other man; Justin arched off the sleeping bag and groaned as the brunet raked his fingernails lightly on the underside of his cock before he grabbed the shaft and prepared to dive back in to the task at hand; soon he would be moving on to some downright plowing of his favorite boy's ass.
Their fucking was forgotten in an instant, however, as they suddenly heard the loudest bang they had ever heard, following by a staccato of smaller noises that sounded like gunshots. Both men's hearts almost leapt out of their chests as they both started in shock at the sound; Justin bolted upright, knocking Brian down to the ground as he struggled frantically to stand up.
"Oh, my God!" Justin screamed. "It must be the moonshiners!" he decided. "They're after the revenuers! Maybe they think WE'RE revenuers! Let's get out of here!" Apparent gunshots continued to rain down all over them as the sound reverberated through their camp site and sounded like they were practically on top of them. "Brian – let's go!" he cried urgently, as he pulled at the other man's arm in a desperate attempt to raise him up from the open sleeping bag. "The SUV – we've got to make a run for it!" he shouted. "These fuckers are crazy! Come on!" he cried, looking around frantically for the keys to their rental vehicle in a terrible sense of déjà vu. Not again...
As Brian snatched his jeans up and began to put them on, Justin took a second to glare at him in disbelief. "You worrying about being modest NOW? Forget the fucking pants, Brian!" Let's go!" he urged the other man, tugging on his arm violently as the shots continued to explode all around them. "My God! I can't believe this! These people are fucking crazy! Come on!" he cried again, pulling roughly at Brian's hand to try and urge the still slightly buzzed brunet to get moving.
"Okay, okay," Brian grumbled loudly, trying hard to be heard over the gunshots echoing all around. "I'm coming….and not in a good way!" he groused, as he finally got his feet moving and following the blond over to the tent flap. As before, they peered out into the relative darkness, trying to ascertain where the gunshots were coming from.
As Justin poked his head out, Brian snatched him back. "Are you crazy, Justin?" You could get your fucking head shot off! Maybe we should stay in the tent," he shouted over the continuing din. The thought of being a tin duck in a shooting gallery at the carnival came to mind as he debated the wisdom of their escape plan.
"Do you really think a canvas tent is going to keep bullets from coming through?" he shouted to Brian in disbelief. "Who do you think we ARE - Superman?" Justin yelled. "I'm getting out of here! No more camping – no more camping," he kept repeating in a chant as he grabbed their jeans and clutched the two pairs in his hand. "Please, God…..get me out of here safely and I promise I will never take Brian camping ever again…."
Brian grabbed his hand and prepared to make a run for it. He made sure he pressed the unlock button on the SUV key fob before he grabbed at his partner's hand and yelled, "I'm going to hold you to that, Sunshine…..if we ever get out of here alive!" before he grasped the other man's hand and made a mad sprint for their rental vehicle, Justin running close behind him, his perky little ass bobbing up and down as they ran. As they got to the SUV, both men automatically crouched down behind the passenger side door for cover. "I think you've been watching too many reruns of Miami Vice," Justin muttered to the brunet as shots continued to be heard all around them. "Very funny," Brian snapped. "Get in the car," he ordered Justin as he gallantly opened the door for his partner and shoved him inside first; he quickly fell into the vehicle alongside Justin and stooped down in the seat out of eyeshot of any shooters.
"Oh, my God! That was hysterical!" Emmett whispered gleefully, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet as he looked over at Michael, who had clapped his own hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle his own laughter as the exploding beans finally were silenced. "Those Bush's Baked Beans worked the best! I'll have to remember that brand from now on!"
"What – are you planning on doing this again to someone else?" Michael asked him a little too loudly, as Emmett shushed him urgently; even though Brian and Justin were still huddled in their SUV, he didn't want to take any chances of the two men hearing them.
"Well, there's always family reunions," he pointed out, as Michael rolled his eyes. "Bur for now, I'd say we'd better get out of here before they come out of there," he suggested. "Although...after all those buck shots from the moonshiners, they may want to stay in there a while to make sure the coast is clear," he added, smiling at their success.
"Yeah, let's make a run for it while we can," Michael agreed. "The only pranks Brian likes are the ones he plays on someone else. And I know what type of retaliation he's capable of. The only time I want to be on the receiving of that is when I'm a witness to it, not the recipient."
"I hear that," Emmett said. "But you have to admit – it's been a great week of camping – for US, anyway," he laughed, as the two of them turned and started walking back toward their vehicle parked about an 1/8 of a mile away.
Brian and Justin remained crouched down in the car for several minutes after the cacophony of shots finally ceased; the only sounds heard were their rapid, ragged breaths as they contemplated whether it was safe to emerge from the relative safety of their metal cocoon. Justin finally whispered fretfully, "Do you think they're gone?"
Brian shook his head. "I don't know. From the sound of things, there must have been a lot of them. My God – I feel like I'm in the middle of a feud between the Hatfields and McCoys."
"The who?" Justin asked him, puzzled.
Brian shook his head. "Never mind…..I'll explain later." He started to reach over to open the door slightly just before Justin pulled his hand back. "Brian! They could still be out there? Are you trying to get your fucking head shot off?"
Brian had to admit – he had a point; he wasn't quite thrilled with the idea that he could possibly be missing an important part of his anatomy – after his cock, that is. But then again, it would be hard to give a decent blow job without a head, too. "Maybe you're right," he conceded grudgingly, thinking that maybe there was maybe a silver lining to all this; they at least had their pants they could put on (although if Brian had anything to say about, they wouldn't need to keep them on for very long), he had the keys to the SUV, his Gucci wallet, and – not that he would ever admit it to him – but most important of all, he had Justin.
Brian turned to look at his partner, whose head was still ducked down behind the dashboard for safety. "What do you say we spend our last night of camping really roughing it at the lodge instead? In an actual king-size bed with feather pillows and a soft down comforter, a Jacuzzi, and a fireplace?" He winced as he thought of how totally lesbionic that just sounded, but the thought of spending at least one night in comfort nursing his sore ass back to health while fucking his partner senseless had a certain appeal to it.
But the broad smile of relief on Justin's face was worth it as he responded, "I think I could make that sacrifice for you. Although if we stayed here, we might be able to get our hands on some top-grade moonshine."
"You mean before or after they shoot our fucking heads off?" he retorted. "I've had enough booze for tonight, thank you very much," Brian reported, as he sat up bravely in the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition, praying that some long-bearded man that looked like ZZ Top wouldn't come springing from the bushes suddenly and aim a shotgun at them before they had a chance to leave.
"Good point," Justin responded in agreement. This experience certainly wasn't like the camping brochure had made it out to be. Of course, he had a feeling they weren't your typical campers, either. "I vote for comfort and safety over authenticity."
"Now you're talking, Sunshine," Brian nodded, as they finally turned back onto the main park road, leaving the shotgun-toting corn-liquor makers in the dust.