Chapter 9:

Flowers...

All wolves can sense the moon, though they may not be so swayed by her call anymore. There are wolves who swear they can smell it, but that was more often regarded as a "big fish" story left to the older wolves to tell. Regardless of their method, all wolves inherently know when the moon is out and what phase she passes through. Tonight, the moon was Wet, resembling the Cheshire Cat's smile. Not that Killian could see it through the low and heavy rain clouds that blanketed the city. The air (even city air) right before the break of a storm was one of the few things Killian still looked forward to as the moisture in the air heightened the leafy smell of any and all plant life in the vicinity. A particular delight he reveled in whilst holed up in cities of steel and cement; the wild breaking through the contained. He opened a singular window to let the scent flood his apartment while he went about is nightly business.

He knew Emma would show, he just didn't think she would be long doing so. His nightly habits were at their end when her sunlight filled his nose from the hallway outside his home. At his age, finding things to be new or peculiar was a rare event. Leave it to this Swan girl to give him both. Warmth and brightness made its way into his home to contend with the dark and wet already seated there. It was no different than spinning in circles as a child –until falling felt like flying. Utterly disorienting, and utterly incredible.

Killian didn't need his electric lamps to see in the dark and as such, usually left them turned off; only ever really using them for the company he might entertain. He sent up a voice of thanks to the Gods that he remembered his manners enough to leave a couple on for Emma. Though it seemed what light was given, was not enough for her to see into his room on her left. She took no notice of him when her gaze swept over the open doorway, the scent of her unease in its wake. Her body lines were tense, her movements slow and calculated. If he hadn't had that dinner with her a night before, Killian would assume this woman was constantly hyped up for a fight to break out around her. And just like that, he was slinking behind her, waiting for her to catch on, eager for her reaction. He managed to get within touching distance, her yellow hair calling to his fingers. His wolf answered the summons, reaching out with their shared hand, gliding it through the soft ends. But it was Killian's breath of contentment that startled Emma. It was his fault; he shouldn't have hidden away like a child playing a game. But then she tried to run and he did the best thing he could by slamming her body to his. His wolf was already too close to the surface in playing with her. No telling what might have happened if she gave it something to chase. The result, to Killian's dismay, was her body now lined up with his own far too intimately. Her pulse was beating away in a frantic rhythm; he could feel her blood pumping through her skin souring her sunshine with the bitterness of fear. Killian couldn't explain when his head became bent to her ear, nor could he manage to pull away. There were words leaving his mouth, but they weren't his.

Ease off, you buggering bastard. She's had enough.

Killian spent the next couple of hours maintaining control from his wolf, who stayed so close under his skin. Yet another sensation Emma bestowed to him. Killian wasn't used to gripping his control so tightly during non-violent situations, wasn't used to his wolf edging the surface for anything other than hostile negotiations. He felt none of that for her –though a few of her stories had him feeling as such to people he didn't know. His fervent hold slipped when she boldly challenged him back for certain topics, and nearly dropped when she relented dominance to him again in others. (Gods that slender neck…) He needed to her leave so he could find his balance once more; he wanted her to stay so he could soak in the mix of light and wet taking over his home. Left with little other choice, he helped Emma understand exactly what was after her. Maybe she'd frighten and hide away somewhere safe. Maybe she'd be strengthened and survive. Whatever the outcome, he hid behind the files he has compiled of Walsh Singe over the years, indulging his wolf with the occasional brush of the fingers when handing her and endless stream of folders.

"I know you're an old man set in his ways and all… but you could just keep all this on your laptop. Less clutter."

"Of course. But keeping hard copies, rather than digital ones, means the thieves have to come for them personally instead remotely accessing them from heaven knows where."

"Right, because they haven't invented these things called flash drives, or portable hard drives for those exact reasons."

"Tell you what Swan. After this is over, you can upgrade any of my methods you so choose."

She turned out to be better at their shared trade than he had credited her for –brilliant in fact– tossing ideas back and forth over where Walsh may be hiding, or when he might try to make another play. He would offer feedback between flirtations that repeatedly slipped out in conversation. Her smiles that cracked in occasional response were tucked away with the sounds of her laughter. By the end of the first hour, Killian wasn't sure if it was him, or his wolf that was chasing Miss Swan.

By the end of the second hour, Emma had curled and tucked into that corner again as exhaustion finally found its way to her, and he found himself in kitchen to make her tea after she had reached for a third glass of rum.

"First time a guy tried to stop me from getting drunk."

"And you never forget your first."

"Just because I can't see you from here, doesn't mean I don't know you're grinning like an idiot at your own joke."

"Aye, perhaps I am. Regardless, you still have nightmares. Tea might not stop them, but alcohol can certainly make them worse. I'd sooner avoid that responsibility and guilt, as you would the screaming and the resulting coddling from a certain Alpha."

She didn't drink much from it, rather seemed content enough to absorb the warmth from the cup into her hands. She began drifting away, blinking slower, delayed and slurred answers; she looked impossibly small on his couch. Killian pulled a dirty trick when he lowered the tone of his voice, and changed the cadence of his words. It wasn't fair of him, he knew that. But Emma Swan was falling asleep, and his instincts were screaming that she wasn't the type to let down her guard around just anyone. He knew treasure when he saw it, and he wasn't about to let it go when it was so freely offered. So he spoke nonsense, helping her slip farther and farther away, until soft snores escaped rather than words. It pleased his wolf to have her trust, but Killian was the one left to figure out what to do with the sleeping woman. Killian managed to restrain his hands from moving the hair from her face only by busying himself with cleaning up the papers strewn all over. And then again with the rum glasses they had used. Tidying up anything to stall waking her. He could simply pick her up and transfer her to his bed, let her sleep the night away there. But the berating he would receive in the morning from all sides wasn't appealing, tempting as the general idea was. He would have to relinquish his treasure; his wolf only quieted by the fact that something found can always be found again. He knelt on one knee beside her, wresting the half-full cup from her grip (surprisingly still tight in her slumber), murmuring her name to bring her back to him. It took a good couple minutes of her shifting and mumbled arguments to get her to even crack an eye.

"If I didn't know any better Miss Swan, I'd assume you were intending on spending the night here."

She closed her eyes again, burrowing deeper into the corner. "And? This couch is comfortable. And you leave the window open."

"Aye, but I'm sure a bed would be better." Killian ignored the immediate images he had conjured in his own mind, praying she was too tired to see them too.

"Comfy here."

"Bloody stubborn woman, you are."

Emma opened an eye again, critical in its perusal of him despite her obvious fatigue. "A woman wants to stay in your home overnight, and you're complaining?"

"Darling, anytime you haven't been drinking and want to see that through, you let me know. But tonight, I'm escorting you safely back to Ruby's."

She scoffed. "You really play up the gentleman bit don't you?"

"Only because I haven't had the proper opportunity to show you how much of a scoundrel I am. Now are you walking out of here, or shall I carry you?"

"You wouldn't." Both eyes opened, wide in disbelief.

"Personal rule, my Swan: never issue a challenge you don't desire for me to see through."

"I didn-"

He didn't let her finish, scooping her up with an arm under her knees and the other behind her back; her sunshine etching his skin where her arms gripped his neck and shoulders. He was upright before another argument fell from her lips, though the sudden movement caused a panicked squeak of some sort instead. It pleased the more primal side of him, as did the anticipation prickling its way through her.

"Ok, you made your point. Put me down."

"I said I'd see you safely home Swan. What safer way than to carry you there, so as to not even chance a sprain?" He moved and took them out his front door, not bothering to lock it up, or even shut it. It wasn't something he normally bothered with anyway.

Stubborn she was, and continued to argue even as he took them down the hall. "But I'm heavy."

"As heavy as three feathers are to a bird."

"Killian!"

Halting at the stairs that led down to Ruby's floor, he mocked her tone, "Emma!" He sounded childish, he was acting childish. It was her fault.

"You don't have to keep carrying me."

"And leave your challenge unsatisfied?"

"I didn't cha-"

Killian bounced her in his arms, ignoring that her own tightened around his neck in response. Arching a brow when she lifted her chin to him.

Her eyes narrowed on him. "Fine, since your ego seems to need validation, you can carry me all the way to Ruby's bed."

Again, thoughts that followed in his mind weren't anything to ever be repeated publicly. (As they ranged from dropping her soundly on her bottom, to pinning her to the nearest wall.) Instead, he locked eyes with her, taking each step down without looking away. He would grip her a little tighter each time he felt a twinge of fear run through her, insisting through his fingers that she keep the trust in him she had earlier. Three flights of her green eyes. Three flights of feeling her apprehension slip away until she was as relaxed in his arms as she was on his couch. Skin of her cheek touching the skin of his shoulder, watching him as much as he was watching her. Her gaze broke first when he set her down at the locked door. (The urge to break this door for the offense it caused him, was a tangible idea he had to put somewhere else.)

Her playful tone returned, "Funny, this doesn't look like Ruby's bed."

(An idea that didn't like being put away apparently.)

"Would you have me break down her door as well? Carry you over the splintered pieces and threshold, and lay you down to bed Swan? One word and I'll comply." He could smell her arousal, snapping his wolf to attention once more. Among other things.

"I don't think Ruby would appreciate a broken door or walking in on her bed being used like that."

It was a plain rejection. On Ruby's behalf.

He took a half step closer. "That's a matter of venue, Swan." He reached his hand out to her waist, listened as she held her breath. Another half step closer. Hand slinking around and just a little lower, snatching her phone from her back pocket.

"Hey!"

He tapped his number in, letting it ring to voice-mail. "Now you can reach me for reasons as noble, or as clandestine, as you please."

Emma huffed as she yanked her phone from his hand. "You should hold your breath till I call."

He tsked. "I thought we just went over issuing challenges Swan." He tilted his head down, watching her from beneath his brow. "Unless you truly desire to see how long I could perform such an act."

Her arousal spiked again, synced with her irritation. He forcefully chose to focus on the irritation; it would be easier to walk away from.

Her eyes rolled as she spun to unlock the door. "Goodnight Killian."

"Goodnight Miss Swan."

Killian waited till he heard the click of the lock before he took his phone out and sent a text to a very different number.

:Status on Neal.

:Emma told you the whole story?

:I would assume so. Let her serve time the first time, left her at a bar with a bill of repair and an open tab the second.

:That's not everything, but that's where it ended for her.

:Not asking for more details other than what happened after he ran.

:Serving time.

:For how long?

:Till he can successfully pass a psych exam. Poor lad thinks monsters are after him.

:He's serving time in a mental institution?

:Deemed unfit to stand trial when he shot someone and screamed about yellow eyes.

:This sounds like a story over a drink Humbert.

:Perhaps. Stick close by till Ruby finishes closing. Emma tends to have a hard time staying asleep when she speaks of Neal.

During their visit, Emma reminded him of her recent trauma to excuse her flight response. But Killian was starting to wonder if his assessment that she was always geared for the worst to happen possibly wasn't too far from the truth. These new pieces of her cast the pieces of trust she had given in a new light. It would be monumental if she was giving him this with conscious effort, but if she was doing it without –and Killian suspected she was– then it was by instinct she was relying on him, and that held a heavier weight. All of which only left Killian confused as to how to continue his role in her life, however temporary it might be.

A pair of voices yelled at him from beyond the grave to not cock this up.

A honeyed voice from his present told him that a gullible girl only earns her hardships.

Killian couldn't find an argument for either side.

The following few days served up nothing new on Walsh. Graham was still away attending pack business, and Killian was bored. He had all sorts of alerts set up if Walsh popped up on the grid again, which made keeping a closer eye on Swan easier. (Whether she knew of his watchfulness or not was not a problem he troubled with.) But boredom had arrived anyway in this downtime. It made Swan's phone number a most tempting button, and he so loved pushing buttons. He didn't call; she would only hang up on him. If not right away, then later as the conversation ran on. So he resorted to the next best thing and sent her an endless stream of random photographs captioned with absurd phrases and comments. She ignored the first dozen or so, but when he broke into the funny cat and dog images, Killian finally got a response to his efforts.

:At least you aren't sending me pics of your body parts.

:Easily remedied my Swan.

:Wasn't a request and I'm not your Swan.

He laughed when the idea struck him. Really, it was too easy to goad Emma. Killian removed the necessary clothing and snapped a picture of the appendage.

:Here Swan. A picture of my big-

:Don't you dare!

He sent the photo along.

:-toe.

:What are you? Twelve?

He had planned on letting the banter end there for a while, to give himself time to find something new to catch her attention with, and to avoid pushing his luck with someone like Emma. She would be the person to have contacts that could shut off his phone for a few days. But she continued the conversation, and not in the direction he ever thought she'd go.

:Are you busy tonight?

:Are you asking me out on a date Miss Swan?

:Of sorts. Yes or no?

:To which? Am I busy or if you can court me?

:If you're going to be difficult about this…

:No, I have no concrete plans in the foreseeable future.

:Good. I'll be at your door at 8. Dress nice.

:Just what you devised for us tonight?

:I'll tell you when I get there.

Eight o'clock was hours away. Cleaning up for a night out was routine enough that Killian could clock the minutes and not be late. He could even manage a nap between now and then. And though she said it wasn't a date exactly –hell, she was planning to pick him up– a night out was a night out. It might be considered archaic, but he had a procedure to follow. He wasn't going to let some sodding semantics get in the way of doing this in proper fashion. He popped off a quick message to Ruby that he was going to be out of the building for a couple hours running errands.

And as an added bonus: Graham wasn't even around to push his rights as eldest family member.

At 7:48pm, Killian knocked on the still offensive door. (It was closed after all.) It was simple to assume that Emma would be annoyed with his early arrival, but these were habits ingrained in him for centuries now. A man showed the woman the courtesy of escorting her directly from her front door, to both provide protection from low-based humans and to show his eagerness for her company. Not as commonplace as it used to be, when the low-based humans polluted it to further push down a woman's will. Nor was it in him to show up empty handed; a token of appreciation for the time she would grant him, a thing to bring out a smile. Swan didn't strike him as one to go for a full bouquet of flowers, but a single bloom might be enough to coax that dimple on her chin out of hiding. Date or not, there was a rhythm to this that he couldn't ignore, nor would he start to.

The offensive door opened, revealing Swan wearing something mildly resembling that Marilyn Monroe number, though this one was done in a deep red. Looking of blood, and drawing all of his out of his head. He thanked the Gods for swaying him to his dark wash jeans this night; slacks would have made his lack of blood control extremely obvious to everyone in New York.

"I- You are stunning Swan." He begged his body to return just a little more blood to the brain so he might be able to function through the night.

She didn't yield entrance to the apartment yet, looking confused through a slight blush staining her cheeks. "Thank you. I thought I was coming to get you?"

"This is a case of where patience isn't a virtue."

"What?"

Killian couldn't clarify his meaning without causing further embarrassment to himself, and he fought his current simple mind for another track of thought. His thumb brushed the stem of the flower held behind his back, allowing him an action to perform rather than words to speak by bringing it forward for her assessment. It was stereotypical rose, though not the red the shopkeeper had tried talking him into. Red roses held too many overtones that would only work against him with Emma. (Regardless of how nicely it would have matched this evening's attire.) His rose of choice was white, bearing pink streaks that looked painted on. He was aware of flower colors coming with meanings –proof in the shopkeeper's endless ramblings when Killian was perusing the stock– but all he managed to keep in his mind was the flower he held in his hand, and the freefall of emotions cascading over Emma's face.

"This isn't a date Jones." Her voice was wary and soft, and she wasn't reaching for the flower. But he caught her fingers flexing into the material of her dress, signal enough for Killian that he had chosen properly.

"Hate to argue on our first date love, but you did in fact say it was."

"I said it was a date of sorts."

"Whatever sort you intended, it's still a date." He edged just a little closer, hoping she'd chance a look in his eyes. "I don't know what brand of men you've dated in the past Emma, but there are things that should never be overlooked. If you are allowing me to escort you through the town, under any pretense, then the very least I could do is give you a flower in return."

Her hand reached out while her fingers ghosted over the petals. A wave of sadness drifting his way, even though her body language was stubbornly set, as if bracing for something to come for her. "It's only a mock date, nothing special."

"A mock date?"

"Walsh is possessive right? And we're assuming he's watching me to some degree, and taunting you with it. So I figured we might draw him out if he saw you moving in on what he sees as his territory. If he snaps, he makes a mistake."

"I see." Killian closed his free hand slowly over her wrist, holding it still as he placed the long stem to her fingertips. "Then all the more reason to make this as believable as possible. If it makes it easier, assume he's watching now, and we already have to be in character."

Emma's slender fingers closed around the flower, bringing the petals up to her nose to finally take in the sweet smell. A tentative smile flashed for only a second, but Killian took victories where he could.

"I don't usually go for roses, but thank you." She tapped the rose against her chin a couple times before darting off to the kitchen; he heard her rustle through the trash bin before the water ran at the sink. She returned a moment later with his token sitting solitary in a beer bottle. Unconventional, but this was Swan, anything else and he'd assume something was wrong. Emma placed it dead center on the dining table, a place of honor he hadn't been expecting.

Killian scratched the back of his neck, wondering how he was supposed to explain that to Ruby later. "Shall we be off then love?"

Emma moved around the apartment gathering the last of her things to shove inside a ridiculously small purse before grabbing a sparkly black shawl to combat the lingering cold in the air. Her hand curved around his offered arm as she gifted him with a smile that could melt the butter off of snow. At this point, Killian didn't give a damn if it was his wolf or himself that was chasing her.

The "date" consisted of hopping the places Walsh had been noted lurking when he first arrived in New York City. They first went to a swanky bar for a drink and an appetizer. Emma was properly coy and flirty, and Killian understood why she had stood out to Walsh. The restaurant that followed wasn't as pretentious though still classy. Emma gave him more of her flirty banter, and more engaging conversation that he had had in years. Killian found himself wondering if that Neal person wasn't actually insane for running away from her. Not to say she wasn't a little unsettling for Killian as he was usually the charming one in this setting; winning the bodies and minds of women with his stories –both real and exaggerated. Emma had turned his entire method on its head and he was left to sit and listen to her regale him of people running from her and some of the more ridiculous ways others would try to coax their way out of capture. His wolf jumped towards every clanging dish and new smell that passed by; Killian only managing to stay focused with her voice as a tether, allowing the visuals of Emma's animated face that to pause his wolf enough between outbursts of restaurant noise. Very counterproductive as Emma was also the very reason his wolf was restless, enticing as she was seated across from him. It was with a concentrated effort that he ate his food at what he hoped was a normal pace, knowing the spread before him wouldn't be enough to satisfy his hunger. He wasn't close to full by the time the dessert cart was wheeled around, but he wasn't about to overwhelm Emma with the size of his true appetite. Their night was almost over, and he had food in his fridge anyway. Walsh either hadn't been watching them through the evening, or was too cowardly to show as yet. Killian still had to get Emma home, but for once he was thankful for the mongrel's need to disappear for a few days at a time.

"Killian?" Her eyes were big and concerned and dammit she had been talking to him while he was lost thinking about the wankers that seemed hell bent on breaking her.

"I'm sorry darling, I got lost in thought. What was it you said?"

Her eyes searched his face, "I asked you if you were ready to go..."

"Of course, just let me-" He started to lift his arm to summon a waiter of some variety.

"Oh, it's fine. I already paid."

"I'm sorry; I must still be wandering in my own head. What was that you said?"

"I already paid for dinner. It's only fair; I'm the one that asked you out after all."

He said nothing, having no idea how to translate what was in his head into modern terms. Only rose from his chair and rounded the table to offer his hand to Emma so she could do the same. He was still silent when he retrieved their coats, and waited for the valet to bring around his car. He could feel Emma's increasing tension, wary over his silence. He hated that she went to those emotions first, not that he expected blind faith so quickly, but he disliked being the cause of them. The only small blessing was that it helped him remain quiet longer, needing to speak his mind clearly and avoid as many assumptions she could devise. He waited till she was safely seated in the passenger side before he got behind the wheel, falling back on old mannerisms to leave his brain more room to sort his thoughts properly. She waited till he had pulled out into traffic before she spoke again, but he held up a finger, asking for her silence a little longer before she had managed to use three syllables. Her apprehension melted away into irritation. Thankfully Killian found a parking garage fairly quickly as the words in his head began to make sense of his untimely reaction. By the time he found a spot, Emma had boiled into a mild fury.

Good. Anger is better than fear. "Emma..."

"First thing's first: I don't give a rat's ass how old you are and what the rules were when you were human. I don't give a flying fuck if you don't think women paying for the date is proper. And I might have been more understanding of those outdated misogynistic views, if you hadn't just given me the silent treatment for twenty minutes so you could pout."

In her rage, she was a feast to his senses. Her heart was thudding in her chest, echoing as loud as her voice in his ears. The rush of adrenaline had that gunpowder burn hotter under the sunshine she had been emitting all night. Her eyes were flashing and her skin flushed from the increased blood flow. She was staring him down, valiantly trying to cow him. Either forgetting what he was, or simply stopped caring. He was impressed. Hell he felt lust sear his insides for the woman, but Killian was still a werewolf and his wolf was rising up to meet her with its own eyes.

She didn't flinch, in fact tilted her head up a notch in further defiance. "Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin."

He managed to hold down his immediate laughter, but the grin couldn't be helped. He always appreciated a woman with gumption. "So now I'm the big bad wolf?"

"Probably. I'm not an easy catch that's giggling like an idiot over your dimples Killian. We're out trying to bait the bad guy. It was my idea. I should be fronting the bill."

He felt his eyebrow reach high. "Oh? So you've been eying my features then Swan?"

Emma leveled a deadpan look to him.

"I understand what you're saying Swan, I do. And I admit that my initial explanation would have consisted the very points you spoke against. I do come from a time where the man was responsible for the funds. And yes, I'm rather used to simply continuing with those behaviors. I'll even admit that the time I spent trying to sort out what I wanted to say to you took far longer than it should have. I apologize for making you think I was sulking over a bruised ego and taking it out on you."

Her expression didn't change. "Go on."

"Aside from the discounted habits of mine, there were a few other things. One: false date or not, we are trying to convey a legitimacy to it. It's safe to assume that Walsh has gathered some intel on me since he sought me out. I never let the woman pay, and I certainly wouldn't let you if I were staking a claim on you. In doing so, you threw me out of my normal habits and it possibly looked wrong to him –if he was watching. Two: I have more money than you do. I've had centuries to collect. You haven't worked in two weeks, and gods know when you might be able to return to it."

"And the last one?"

He feigned innocence. "Last what?"

"Really? You're going to pull that now?" Her arm crossed her chest in further defiance, and he resisted the urge to watch the action squeeze her breasts together.

"I think I'll save this last reason for bartering later, you being so eager for it."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Let's move on to the next place if you're going to be weird."

"You had more locations in mind love?"

Emma nodded. "A club he's been to quite a few times. He was seen there the same night he found me at that bar. Worth a look."

Killian's face scrunched up like someone gave him a salted lemon to suck on. "I hate to be the party pooper darling, but wolves don't do well in those places. I can tolerate them for a while, but not long enough to serve our purposes. Too many smells and loud sounds. It's disorientating and aggravating. The restaurant was pushing it already."

"Then why would Walsh keep going to them?"

"Likely because he wouldn't run into another wolf in those places. It would make him feel superior to everyone else there."

"Could you do an hour maybe? It would be just enough time to look for him, or for him to spot us."

There was a hopeful look to her face and he felt the resolve to take her home ebb from his grasp. "Let's say he is there. He sees you with me or any other male, there's no telling how he might react. Clubs are crowded with people tighter than the other places we've been; I wouldn't be able to protect you properly and might even lose sight of you if it's cluttered enough."

"An hour and I'll forget the temper tantrum you just threw…"

Bugger.

"Fine. But only to place me back in your good graces. I can't have you running off and complaining to Humbert." He placed the address into the GPS and maneuvered the vehicle back onto the main street.

"Graham? No I wouldn't tattle to him."

"You wouldn't?"

"Nah." She gave him a smile that reminded him of a wolf fresh from a hunt. "I'd tell Granny."

"I'd rather bathe in silver Swan."

She perked up visibly, "Silver really works?"

"Knowing you would sacrifice me to Granny over a dinner bill? I'm not confirming a sodding thing."

A/N: inloveswan: Sweetlove, don't worry about every hour. I seem to be uploading every 3-4 days as I finish writing out the last few chapters. FFNet, Ao3, and Tumblr are all updated at the same time also.

Everyone: I'm going to stress again, non-sexy times fic. I don't even hint at it. Think 3A in Neverland, everyone was busy trying to save Henry and stop Pan. Tensions were high, but all we got was a kiss. Here, everyone is trying to save Emma and stop Walsh. Tensions high... you get the idea. I'm sorry if that detracts from the story for you, but really you should count it a blessing. Me writing sexy times would be a crime against CS. M is for violence, and later chapters will be tagged for triggers as a note at the beginning of each chapter.