Chapter twenty-eight, Waiting

'

Begin Introspection. Serial code: Daxter.

'

Calling the captain of the good ship Awkward! Get that beauty back to port, I ain't finished loading my cargo!

'

End Introspection.

'


Daxter hadn't ever been much of an over-thinker. When an idea popped into his head he tended to act on it, or rather start talking about it. Of course, Jak was the "take action" bit taken to the nth degree. In compare to him, Daxter was a philosopher.

But he didn't know where to begin, and even then they currently had a whole entourage of foragers gathered in a carrier car driving alongside them across the dunes. None of them would be able to hear a word over the roar of the carrier's motor, but it didn't do Daxter's nerve any favors to have an audience. Nope, much as he'd like to tackle what was on his mind right away before he did something stupid like falter, he had to put it off for the time being.

Just sitting there, keeping an eye on the landscape so that Jak could focus on driving, and pretending not to glance at him more than usual. Jak was in his right element now, behind the wheel of a rolling death machine, and there wasn't a sign that the horrors of the night had left a lasting impact. Daxter could see it fine, even with the scarf pulled up over Jak's face and the goggles shielding his blue eyes from sand. Jak's shoulders were relaxed and his grip on the wheel light, he even leaned one arm on the Shark's frame and only used one hand to steer at times.

Daxter forced himself to look back at the world around them. There would be a lot less relaxing if a giant lizard with a laser canon on its back snuck up on them because he let himself get distracted.

They drove towards the ocean, then swung along the shore and continued onto the racetrack where Kleiver had challenged them for the Tough Puppy all those months ago. Daxter had to scoff at the memory of that bet even now. He poked at Jak's shoulder and glared through his own goggles. Jak glanced at him and made a small, apologetic motion with his hand – and the way the red scarf shuddered showed that he laughed. Daxter pulled a face behind his scarf, but then cackled to himself. Oh well…

Once they had crossed the islands connected by bridges – which for a change were not blown up today (and Daxter spared a thought to what poor bastards had to go out and fix them every time the metal heads or marauders destroyed the bridges) – Jak let the foragers take the lead for the last stretch to and into the cave. They did not drive very far in, stopping where the entrance was still in sight and sunlight reached inside. Jak parked the Shark beside the carrier as the foragers began filing out. The leader walked up the demolition duo, pointing to his own goggles as he spoke.

"Keep those on, and the scarves too," he instructed. Behind him, the foragers were tying their scarves tight over their noses and mouths, and checking on their goggles. "The mature mushrooms release spores that'll make you want to tear your eyes."

"And lemme guess," Daxter commented, watching half of the foragers equip themselves with what looked suspiciously much like spears, "you don't know if they are or not until you cut 'em?"

"Exactly."

As the leader returned to his crew Daxter turned back to Jak.

"Never break your arm, bud," he said.

"They'd probably make you the climber champ, not the mushroom poking master," Jak replied, his grin loud and clear in his voice.

The foragers lined up in pairs along the cave's side, one person equipped with a poking spear and the other with a spray can in each hand. It was clear that the latter could not have been hammered out in Spargus, as some of them even had the remains of Haven brand stickers on their buckled sides. What a thing to smuggle.

"Salt water cannons at the ready?" the leader said with a hint of mirth in his voice.

"Ready!" answered those with spray cans.

"Alright, go!"

The spearmen and –women began poking their sharp sticks into cracks in the wall. Before long a man cried out and ducked aside as a yellowish cloud exploded out of the crack he had been examining. Instantly his partner sprayed at the spores, swinging her arms in wide circles to spread the water. The yellow smoke dispersed as the spores were caught by the wet clouds and tumbled down, creating an icky-looking coating on the ground. Daxter noticed that it made sand and small rocks cling to the male foragers boots after he stepped in it.

It didn't smell very nice either, rather like old socks. If he hadn't known those mushrooms were delicious roasted, he'd wonder why they were out here poking at walls.

That wasn't the last instance of the "salt water cannons" being used, but soon enough the foragers began feeling safe enough to go in and start ripping out the pale, round mushrooms that remained, to gather them in the baskets. Once a pair of workers had exhausted one crack in the wall, they moved to another.

It wasn't terribly interesting to watch, so of course Daxter was soon talking up a storm to veer off insanity from boredom. Jak leaned back on his seat and put his feet up on the dashboard, though he kept watching the other end of the cave for any sign of incoming trouble, safe in the knowledge that Daxter was guarding the other way.

They looked at each other every now and again, as they usually did when Daxter said something particularly funny. The jokes were a bit disjointed today, though, and it was obvious to the redhead that Jak noticed. Even when the goggles made it impossible to see each other's eyes, he knew from the way Jak turned his head and studied him. Daxter pretended not to take any heed of it, though he had to sit on his hands to keep from drumming his fingers against any convenient surface at times.

How long is this gonna take?

Because right now he certainly couldn't talk to Jak about what was on his mind. And it made Daxter's whole being itch. He wasn't sure if his courage could handle the wait, not trusting himself to stay on course with the thoughts in the back of his head if it took too long. If he let himself think it over he knew he'd start running around in circles and decide it was stupid and a bad idea.

If he'd had a watch he would have checked on it about once a minute. Even when he did see that once all the sporeplosions were cleared up, there were plenty of mushrooms to pick and the baskets filled up quickly. Daxter were relieved to see the first basket be brought into the carrier… but then that forager returned with an empty basket.

With a sinking feeling Daxter craned his head, but from he was he couldn't see inside the carrier, of course. He did make a basic evaluation of its size, though, estimating how many baskets could fit in there along with the people. Then he felt like slumping over the side of the Shark and tear at his hair in frustration.

He swallowed it down, though, looking at Jak who sunk deeper and deeper back against the seat. It was unlikely that Jak would allow himself to fall asleep, but he must be as bored with the inaction as Daxter felt.

The only remedy was more talking. It was all Daxter had to offer, even when he still could not speak the words that burned on his tongue. What exactly were they, though? He tried to push that question away, if he thought too much about how to formulate himself, it was a doomed plot. Nothing could sound right in his mind, he'd just have to wing it.

If he dared to.

And then the Precursors – or whatever guardian spirit they had delegated the "mushroom administrator" title to – decided to be in a good, generous mood.

One of the foragers stabbed her spear into a slightly wider crack and almost lost her balance as the entire tool disappeared into the darkness. A huge cloud of spores billowed out with such force that her protector had to call for those nearby to help. It took four of them to get the cloud under control, and the ground before the crack was left looking unpleasantly much like somebody had thrown up all over it. But the forager who had awakened the spore beast just stepped over the mess and disappeared into the crack.

"Oh wow," came from inside. "I struck gold, peeps!"

Baskets were brought over and mushrooms came pouring out like an avalanche of puffballs. It was not enough to completely load up the carrier, of course, but it cut down on the waiting time significantly.

The foragers were all in an excellent mood as they loaded up the last baskets and themselves in the carriers, and the two cars could finally, finally start moving back towards Spargus. That trip too, in all its unusual uneventfulness, stretched on and on and on in Daxter's mind. The familiar rocks and dunes dragged on forever, and by now he was so worked up that he couldn't keep tabs on what he was saying and kept losing the thread, starting over and changing the subject at random. Jak might only catch pieces of it over the loud engine, but he couldn't possibly be unaware that something was very off.

The Spargus walls rising up above the dunes was a beautiful sight, blasted by sunlight and swimming in the heat waves rising above the sand. The gates opened up for them and they rolled inside to park. The foragers drove closer to the city entrance to make unloading easier, but the leader came hurrying over to Jak and Daxter as they were getting out of the Shark.

Daxter stood unusually silent as the leader thanked for the assistance, though apologizing more or less as a joke for the lack of action. Jak just laughed that off, and the leader handed him a slip to trade for fruit or vegetables later as payment. Then the man scurried off to help moving the mushrooms into the storages, leaving the demolition duo alone.

"Too late to head to the temple now," Jak commented, looking up at the sun.

Daxter nodded agreement. Having to camp out in the desert night was best avoided if you could, and they both needed to get proper sleep after last night.

Jak jabbed a thumb towards the city gates.

"Wanna practice driving?"

Out there. Alone. Well out of sight of everyone.

Don't freak out don't freak out it's just Jak don't freak out you don't even have to say anything you know no no no don't go there no backing out you've waited all day don't freak out

"Yeah, sure," Daxter said, stretching as he said it so that he could force his voice to sound like a grunt. He wasn't quite trustful of his vocal chords right then.

It didn't pass him by that Jak gave him a meaningful look, either, glancing towards the foragers and back to Daxter. Yup, setting up privacy but being tactful about it. Daxter wondered how much of his anxiety showed, and if Jak read too much into it. If such a thing was possible.

Okay chill, breathe, or you'll crash the car into the wall on the way out.

He got into the driver seat of the Shark while Jak seated himself in the passenger's, both of them lowering their goggles to their eyes and raising their scarves again. Afterwards, Daxter had no idea how he managed to back and turn around, and drive out of the city without breaking anything. Well, Jak had parked pretty nicely to make sure there was a wide area to move the Shark around in, but still.

Right. Now then…

Daxter turned left, driving along the wall towards the ocean. All the while trying to focus on driving, while desperately trying to think up where to start. Maybe it would have been better to plan ahead…

He wasn't the least surprised when Jak spoke up. Actually, he felt relieved for the push forwards.

"What's bothering you, Dax?"

Daxter rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, well…" Glancing around, he figured they were safe here. True the landscape was open, but they would see anything that approached from a good distance. And the sight of the ocean and the palm trees, with their reminder of childhood, made him feel about as relaxed as he could get under the circumstances. "One sec."

Gingerly, Daxter raised the gas pedal so that the Shark slowed, letting it roll forwards by its momentum until it came to a natural stop. He couldn't sit down for this, he had to feel the ground under his feet.

Have to have an escape route, you paranoid little rat, said a biting voice in the back of his head.

And he had to see Jak's face, so he pushed his own goggles up to his forehead and shook the scarf down to show his friend that he ought to do the same.

Finally Daxter swung out of the Shark, then stood waiting impatiently as Jak climbed out on his side and walked around the vehicle. It took only a few seconds, but to Daxter it seemed like his friend was dragging his feet and taking a sweet ass time. And yet, when Jak stood in front of him, Daxter felt like he would have wanted some more time to think, yes please.

But it was too late. If he made an excuse now, he might never be able to work up the nerve again.

"Okay, okay…" Daxter clapped his hands together in front of his face and waved them about to underline that this was really friggin' serious business. "We had a good talk and I think we sorted things out fine so I hate to mess anything up again–– wait no, don't look like that, wait, listen!"

He didn't blurt the last because Jak turned to leave or anything, because Jak stood still as a statue. But the look on his face fell from worried to a pinch of panic. Too late Daxter figured that his clumsy start sounded very much like it could run off into a "we had some good times, but…" speech, and he wasn't surprised that Jak's smarting emotions veered off into fear for that.

Jak folded his arms as if to ground himself, only partly soothed by Daxter's nervous reassurance.

"Okay, what?" he said, warily.

Daxter deflated.

"I'm so frickin' confused, Jak," he said, rubbing the back of his head.

"About…?" Jak slowly said, watching him. Something sparked in his eyes, disbelief and hope so frail that it didn't know whether to rise.

Daxter knew he could squirm and run around until both of them were driven mad from it, but he'd had enough. He just charged right in, before he could stop to think again.

"I might figure it out if you kiss me again," he blurted.

He could practically hear Jak's gut do a backflip. That look of surprise and wonder passing through the blue eyes could have struck him down, unable to look away. But right then, Daxter had to focus everything he had into not fidgeting, and he couldn't enjoy that amazing sight of Jak looking like that.

"Well, do it right this time. But hey, no bending me backwards or nothin', I ain't some glittery diva!"

Daxter's voice caught a higher note at the end though he grinned, trying to conceal it. That and how he lost some control of how fast he was talking, speeding up – working himself into a state of freaking out when trying to calm himself down.

Jak tried not to frown, but the flinch on Daxter's face said he didn't do well.

Embarrassment hung thick in the air, mingling with growing uncertainty as Daxter's grin weakened just the slightest. Both of them searching for a way to get around it, if not through, without having to retreat.

That would be the worst of all.

Jak raked his brain. When he'd been with Keira, they had managed to produce other problems – severe, deep cuts from pasts started the moment they went through the Precursor ring. He had to fix this or there could be a slope leading down, events that may only get worse unless it all turned right, now. He and Daxter couldn't afford it. He had to do it right, indeed. Had to.

There was a way around it, every problem had one… just that he had always sucked at finding solutions in these areas.

But, this wasn't Keira, or Ashelin, or anybody else that could easily misunderstand him. This was Daxter. Who had known him almost his entire life.

Jak's tight lips loosened, curling into a wry smile. This earned him a suspicious look, and that almost made him laugh. The tension seemed to him to dissipate, even if Daxter still looked uneasy. But Jak knew he could take that away, too. He just had to find somewhere to start.

So he smiled, easily this time.

"And we still need to practice driving," he said, jabbing his thumb at the silent Sand Shark.

In his over-clocked state, Daxter flinched in surprise at the sharp change of subject. His eyebrows went down in a hurt look, and he opened his mouth to ask what the deal was about ignoring the offer he'd worked his nerves bloody for. Jak cut him off with a strong hand on each of the thinner shoulders.

"You're still making the turns a little wide, but you're getting the hang of it," he said.

The echo of a similar phrase from almost two years ago halted the protests. Daxter bit his lip, knowing what should come next and that knowledge lit a glow behind the embarrassment in his eyes.

"I'm proud of you, Dax."

A grin cracked Daxter's tight face and he moved a hand to rub the back of his head.

"Aw, you're just tryin' to butter me up."

Jak raised an eyebrow, silently questioning if he would ever do anything of the sort.

"Don't you try to play innocent, bub!"

It was in the time of those smiles that Jak moved forwards and pressed his lips to Daxter's.

As if a button had been pressed the redhead tensed, half raising a foot to take a step back. But then he put it back down, trying to relax. Arms hanging hesitantly, hands opening and closing – useless appendages unable to find a purpose or even search for one.

Blue eyes staring into Jak's, the close proximity making them difficult to focus on. But the confused, anxious look was still there in the background.

Jak didn't press on or linger for long. He moved back a little after a moment, brushing his nose against Daxter's cheek as he stretched upwards the little bit needed to softly mumble into a long ear.

"You're doing great."

"Thanks, shorty. Ow!"

Daxter only recoiled as much as the headsmack demanded. Then he swung back just as close, even if Jak let go of his shoulders. He got the silent raising of a curious eyebrow for that action, and Daxter took that reward with a little louder cackle.

"Now listen, buddy…" the redhead said, looping an arm around the back of Jak's neck and wagging a finger in the very small space between their faces. "I've spent all my life being on the short end of the tallness stick. I gotta milk it for all its worth now."

The finger stopped wagging, and the hand sunk out of the way. At the same time, Daxter's teasing grin softened. The corner of Jak's lips rose slightly.

"Err…"

Daxter glanced aside, rubbing the back of his head with the free hand. The other arm remained where it was, holding on to Jak.

"It, uh… it's kinda weird," Daxter admitted, hand sliding from his hair to brush his lips. "'Cause it's you, y'know? Hey!" He tightened his grip of Jak. "Don't back off on me, I didn't say I don't like it."

Jak stopped trying to move away, but the frown remained. They watched each other for a moment. Finally, Daxter let out a loud, theatrical sigh.

"No, I'm not doing this just to make you happy, dammit!" he said with a snort. "I've got some integrity values too, y'know."

"Well?"

"'Well'? Look buddy boy, it oughta tell you something that I like you enough to let you give me a smooch in broad daylight. I can hear all the world's ladies crying from here."

Daxter spoke a little too quick after half that speech, a shade of red creeping up his cheeks. After finishing, he cleared his throat.

"So, anyway… yeah." Daxter narrowed his eyes. "Hold still for a sec."

He leaned forwards and pressed his lips to Jak's. A little unsure what to do, but then Jak opened his mouth just the slightest and the tip of his tongue darted out, playfully touching Daxter's lips. Daxter made a surprised noise and they broke away, chuckling.

"Okay. Okay." Daxter took in a deep breath and spread out his fingers against Jak's chest. He could only bear to look him in the eye for very short periods of time as he spoke. "Don't read too much into it, 'kay? Just 'cause of this and 'cause we're sleeping together doesn't mean I'm ready to jump in bed with you." He frowned. "Eh. You know what I mean."

"Yeah." Jak tilted his head the slightest, causing the metal of their goggles to clack together. "I know."

A less pleasant thought reared its ugly head in Daxter's mind, disturbing the moment. He didn't want to care about it at first, but it kept poking at his attention until he knew that he had to be certain.

"Jak?" he said in a softer, serious voice. "Are you gonna be okay?"

There was a flinch, a shadow of the night before. Then Jak's shoulders fell and he let out a deep breath.

"I think so," he said. "There were times like that with Keira too. They come and go."

Daxter nodded, managing to smile a little again.

"We'll work it out when it happens," he said.

Jak's smile said that he knew, with absolute certainty, that he could always trust Daxter to help him through. The redhead started to say something again, to push away those unpleasantries, but there was a sudden beep.

Sighing, Jak plucked his communicator from his belt, but one look at the screen turned him serious in an instant. He quickly pushed the button to answer, and addressed the person on the other side of the connection.

"Yes, Damas?"

Daxter leaned against the frame of the car, perking his ears. Oh boy. Things tended to get rather hectic whenever Damas called. He hoped it wasn't time for his second entrance exam already. He hadn't gotten enough sleep lately and he definitely wasn't in the mood for that kind of nonsense…

"Get back to Spargus right now," the hoarse voice of the King crackled through the speakers. There was a twinge of barely suppressed rage in his tone which made the hair on Daxter's arms rise. Jak's eyebrows twitched. "We have a situation."


Sig didn't need the long trip in the air train to fall into more sober thoughts. No matter how glad he was to give a friend hope to get in touch with a lost loved one, he was from the very beginning aware of reality. First of all, the man calling himself Ingen obviously did not want to be noticed. That he had not tried to get in touch with Vida somehow was less worrying, as her son had gone missing before she ended up in the Wasteland. Neither had known whether the other was still alive, nor where.

Second, Sig would have to start asking questions in places where he was not wanted.

He had been prepared for it to be troublesome, which was why he wasn't surprise at his current situation. It would have been nice to have avoided it, but it could have been worse.

Maybe if he could have found the guy that had been trapped by a fallen box, and been saved from the metal head by Sig and Ingen…

No.

If things were as they appeared, then "Ingen's" name was Junn Durann.

Either way, that man had been nowhere to be found either, and so Sig had tried asking a random fellow and it had ended up in this soup.

At least the dock worker he had approached was only refusing to cooperate, not attacking him. And they were out in the open on the docks and not nearby any alley, so even if things went ugly the dock worker and his gathering numbers of agitated co-workers couldn't try something stupid like attempting to drag Sig off out of sight for a beat down.

They wouldn't manage unless they were at least twice as many as they were now, of course, but Sig didn't want trouble either.

Sig glared at the man he had attempted to ask about "Ingen", who glared back.

"Don't know nobody like that," the dockworker said for the second time, folding his arms.

He had no reason to help a weirdo Wastelander. Especially not one who had worked for Krew. Sig felt a dark suspicion that he might have been involved in a hit against somebody the man knew, or even the guy himself.

There had been so many people that Krew ordered him to teach a lesson.

"All I want is to give'm a message from his mother," Sig said.

"Is that what ya call it these days?" somebody behind him said.

Sig didn't bother looking around. Any movement from him right now might be the spark that would set off the big boom. Feet shifted all around, as did the grips of crowbars and bundles of ropes. No good combinations.

"Right." Sig slowly raised both hands, waving them to signal he didn't want a fight. It only made the men shift again, almost simultaneously.

"Is there a problem here?"

The slightly muffled voice snapped through the tense air like a whip, and heads turned towards a trio of Freedom League soldiers walking up to the gathering crowd. The dock workers scattered with mutters about suspicious questions – although they did it with a whole less panic than they would have done three years ago at the sight of those masks.

Sig was the only one who didn't move, figuring he may as well try to make it through a round of tiresome questioning if it meant that he could toss his own question to the dock patrols.

"Alright, buddy, and what––" the soldier at the front started, but one of his companions grabbed his shoulder.

The three held a muttered, slightly static conversation and Sig let them, waiting it out. In the end, all three of the soldiers gave him a quick, friendly salute.

"Sorry about that," the leader said, "just checked in with HQ about your identity so we know you're in the clear. Was there a problem?"

"Nuthing I couldn't handle, but thanks," Sig said. "Didn't wanna get in a fight."

It did have it perks to be on the law enforcement's side, apart from sleeping better at night.

"I was just asking 'bout a guy I saw the other day," Sig went on. "An ex-KG with red hair, big guy like me. Called himself Ingen. I think he may have family in the Wasteland that he dun know is alive."

He didn't want to offer the man's real name. Junn Durann used a pseudonym for a reason, and if he heard about anybody knowing too much about him he was likely to take off somewhere else, if he hadn't already.

There was a pause as the soldiers thought it over, but one by one they began shaking their heads.

"We can keep our eyes peeled, but no promises," the leader said. "We get asked about lotsa missing people."

"Figger as much."

And considering that "Ingen" had recoiled from the soldier asking him to join the army again, the man would probably keep his distance to any soldiers anyway. But it was worth a shot. Just as it had been worth asking the dock workers. With any luck, they would warn Junn that somebody claiming to know his mother had been looking for him. That might hopefully draw him out, as long as he dared to take the risk.

As the three soldiers walked off, Sig stood alone for a moment to ponder what to do next. He was in the city, so maybe he might as well check in with Tess. She hadn't called him but he would like to know if she had been doing any research.

His communicator beeped, killing off his planning. Annoyance sprung up when he saw the name on the screen. Truth to be told, he didn't like this caller any more than Jak and Daxter did. But he couldn't ignore it, either, so he pushed to answer.

"Where the hell are you?" Kleiver grunted from the speakers, not even bothering with a greeting.

"Had to take a round of Haven again," Sig said, impatiently. "What?"

Kleiver's oily moustache twitched as he barked out a nasty laugh.

"Double-time it back here," he said. "Damas is headin' to war."


'

Begin Introspection. Serial code: Kleiver.

'

S'long as I git ta do things my way 'round here, I dun care two spits 'bout who's running this circus. Kings an' Queens have a short expiration date 'round these parts, though Damas has hung on for pretty long now. 'pose it's 'cause he had trained being top dog before he even got his first mouthful o' sand.

Him, King of Pussy Town Haven? Pff. They couldn'a sent him out here quick enough. I knew we'd have a lotta fun with the guy first time I saw him. Barely out of his first arena fight an' he was hollering challenges at the last King to get down and take 'im on. Farao was his name.

'Course, ya can't even dream o' being if ya ain't even a citizen yet, so Damas would have to finish his challenges first. Damas knew people knew who he was. Eh. I din't care, though it would'a been fun ta fight 'im 'cause he wasn't no Haven softie. But people were queuing up ta take 'im on and he knew that if he din't show 'em they din't wanna mess with him, he wouldn't last five minutes out on the street before somebody shot 'im in the back.

Damas response to "you ain't ready yet, pup"?

"Next challenge. Now!"

He was pissed already, so he just barged on. An' we ain't gonna say no to good fun down here, so he got what he asked for. An' walked out.

By then people were hollering for more. Most had wanted his blood jus' 'cause that sounded more fun at first, but now he was provin' to be good, and we respect that. Good fight, too. Left him outta breath and bleedin', standin' there staggerin'.

An' then he glowed white.

'Course everyone knows they say the rulers o' Haven are descendants o' Mar, but most think it's doohickey. Well, thought. I did too. But he glowed, and he stopped bleedin' and pantin'. The monks almost creamed their robes, hollerin' that he could use white eco.

S'pose many would call it cheating, but out here, we use everythin' we got ta survive. Ain't nuthin' wrong with that.

Eh? Dun ask me where he got a hold of white eco since he was fresh from Pussy Town. I know it's rare there but ya know, he was top dog there too, 'ey. I dun care.

So he straightened up and stood there havin' a glarin' match with Farao.

"I have caught my breath and I am ready for the next challenge!"

And that was about the last polite thing they said to each other. I dun even think half o' us even understood some of them insults, 'cause the Farao could do fancy talk too, and the two o' them got kinda into it. Least until Damas got Farao so pissed he jumped down there ready to smash Damas' brains out with his fists.

I'm sure ya can use that fancy head o' yours to figger out how that ended.

Damas is a right King for Spargus. He ain't scared of goin' out there with the rest of us. An' he knows to prepare in case he dun come back.

He's good, but we can't afford to have a King that we can't live without. Chess is a stupid game.

'

End Introspection.

'


Author's note: "Farao" is the Swedish spelling for Pharaoh. Don't ever say that you don't learn anything from reading fanfics ;D

Eh. I don't think I've got Kleiver's dialect down, it confuses me so. But oh well, you win some and you lose some. At least he finally got an introspection!