Bloody Red Doll
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Yana Toboso and Square Enix, Co. Ltd. I don't own them; I just examine all their possibilities.
Warning: Contains heavy talk about a past-tense suicide. A heads up if that bothers anyone.
Part 36
I didn't see those two nutters for the rest of the evening, it was their fortune and mine as well. If I saw either of them I would likely introduce a fist to one of their smirking faces, let them see how "entertaining" I was. I went about the party as usual, though their words seared into the back of my mind. Rambling rubbish by a couple of madmen, or that was my initial thought. I told myself over and over it wasn't worth any of my concern, though I was hardly reassured. In fact I grew somewhat nervous as the night continued.
I mulled over every word trying to decipher what the hell they were talking about and coming up with so many scenarios that made my skin crawl. Perhaps it was a form of social insult, or perhaps social praise. Likely they were discussing business plans that involved me somehow…or they were plotting to kidnap me or even better. My imagination wrote so many sordid tales behind those few exchanges.
By the end of the evening I decided I would tell Jacob about this encounter. I was learning to trust Jacob a little more, this would be an appropriate exercise or perhaps test of that trust. Judging by the encounter at the end of the New Year's party, Jacob was likely familiar with Arthur if they weren't already friends or associates. If this was a potential threat to my person he would want to know, even if someone were merely being that rude in my direction he would be interested in that as well.
I tried acting as calm as could be when we boarded the carriage, this would only be a conversation comparing societal notes. Once the carriage pulled off however, Jacob was giving me a concerned look.
"See any ghosts in the townhouse? You have a rather telltale pallor," Jacob said.
If my fear was that obvious, why hide it?
"I had a rather interesting encounter with a few of the earl's associates," I said.
Jacob's expression stiffened, though he remained quiet; likely waiting for me to elaborate.
"Jacob what do you know about Arthur Pettengill?" I asked.
Jacob paused for a moment in contemplation, his stiff expression remaining.
"He is a close personal friend of the earl," he carefully answered. "I personally haven't spoken to him all that much aside from shared pleasantries, I believe that ill-fated evening was my first opportunity to spend all that much time with him. I believe he works in finance, or something related to audits and collections, of course everyone's professions in that group are rather hushed up. Earl Bram has described him as a jack of all trades sort, which likely means mercenary."
"I heard at the party that he was in collections," I said, trying to keep my voice relaxed. "After the party, though, after those traitors were dispatched, I caught a glimpse of him in the room wielding an axe. I left before I could see what came next."
Jacob grimaced slightly, giving a somewhat understanding nod.
"As I said, there are things about Earl Bram's friends that are better left unspoken," Jacob said.
"Are you familiar with a man named John Pennington?" I asked.
Jacob paused for another moment then shook his head.
"Can't say I recall that name," he said. "Now what exactly happened tonight? I assume it involves Mr. Pettengill and this Mr. Pennington you speak of."
"Indeed it does," I sighed, getting my story together. "Mr. Pennington as it turns out is a colleague of Mr. Pettengill in whatever company they work for, apparently he's down from Yorkshire but that's irrelevant. Arthur comes right up to me, which he has been fond of doing for the past few Phantomhive parties. It's all innocent chatting, Mr. Pennington comes up and it's all the same. He's proper in speech, rough on manners, heavy on eccentric charm. They walk away looking back at me with rather knowing expressions. I decided to hang behind them, then I hear them talking about 'reading my record' and how much promise I have, or rather how I'm a gamble for something according to Mr. Pennington. Arthur starts talking about how he enjoys the gambles, says something about dealing with so many 'soldiers and solicitors.' Then they start talking about how much more entertaining I'll be next year."
Jacob's expression remained stony, though his brows were firmly furrowed.
"Do you think they knew you were behind them?" he asked.
"Mr. Pennington cautioned his colleague against saying 'classified information' in front of sensitive ears and cast half an eye right on me," I said. "I just got the hell away from them, never saw them again for the rest of the party."
Jacob paused again, pondering his fingernails with a curious look.
"Well that is certainly eerie," he said.
"I am fully aware of the caliber of men we are dealing with, hence my fear," I said.
"A rightful concern," he said nodding. "However only an idiot would talk so openly of fell business. The earl would root out any such idiots before they were allowed in his presence, let alone that close to him. We can't be too careful, but it is likely there is a less ominous explanation for this. Perhaps this was a social slight to you, perhaps a comment on your age. Next year? Well you will be turning 19 next year and entering your second year at Oxford, perhaps they will consider you a bit more worthy of their graces."
It was a good explanation. He paused again and then raised a finger in some realization.
"You know what that likely was, I am certain this is the case," Jacob said with a tone of sudden confidence. "They're businessmen, executives likely; executives are always looking for fresh blood, especially if they can steal it from a superior company. They see you — a young upstart about to enter university with an impeccable reputation for productivity — and they see something they like. They see someone who can help their ramshackle company, thinking they could even compare to where you serve now or anywhere else you could be that's not them. They probably have some sort of file on you as a potential recruit, it's a common practice. But you're very green, hence why you are a gamble — unlike a more reliable candidate such as a crippled soldier in need of work or a solicitor in need of clients. Though next year you will be a bit riper, perhaps ripe enough for their purposes?"
I gave a breath of relief; that assessment made perfect sense. They were looking to recruit me into their business; naturally the earl would be friends with such presumptuous businessmen.
"That certainly sounds like the most plausible explanation," I said.
"Let this be a lesson; beware of smiling men with lofty promises," Jacob said. "Such businessmen would want to pluck a promising youth right out of a prosperous position, even right out of university and into a sinkhole."
"I shall heed that advice," I replied. "Though they certainly have done little to entice me anywhere."
"That makes them poor businessmen. Even an inept company president would know their approach was a liability. I wouldn't mind finding out what company they work for."
"But as you said business among the 'Evil Nobles' is rather hushed up."
"Indeed, that is why I understand your fears. Just be careful around them, I will keep an extra eye out too. If they start bothering you even further or if they do become a threat, say something to the earl; I too will speak as well if I see something troubling. Though as we know all too well the earl doesn't exactly keep the kindest company."
I nodded in profound agreement.
"I will certainly be careful," I said. "Thank you for your insight, Jacob."
"It's merely a mutual assistance," he said. "If I ever need any such insight on someone you know a bit better I will certainly speak with you as well."
"Certainly," I said, finally settling back into my seat.
I tried not to think on the matter for the rest of the night. Thankfully there were no nightmares, unlike the first time I met Mr. Pettengill. This issue was resolved, I would make sure to be more careful around Arthur and any one of his little friends.
I met with Jacob a few days later for another one of our lunch meetings. At the end he pressed an envelope into my palm; an envelope adorned with a rather elaborate gold printed design. It was unsealed, I opened it up to see a feather covered in blue wax. I looked at him curiously, he smirked a little.
"A colleague of mine named Lord Ellison is having a very exclusive, very private gathering late in the evening on Saturday," Jacob said, leaning in my face and practically whispering. "I am aware your play is that night, but I think this might provide some lovely post-show refreshment. When I say very private, I mean that. Do not breathe a word of this to anyone else or even show anyone the contents of this envelope."
Jacob gave this dirty smirk and a little nod. I merely smiled and nodded back. This was going to be a very improper gathering, perhaps even more so than any other lewd party I had ever been to. I pocketed the envelope with a wink.
"This secret is safe with me," I said with a wink. "You have my word."
This was rather clandestine. Just a few months ago the thought of Jacob giving me such an invitation would have immediately unearthed every single fear and suspicion I had about my brother. Now my curiosity was piqued and now I knew I would have to trust Jacob. Given my recent successes, he had no reason to destroy me and was more likely to reward me...perhaps show me a lesson though I endeavored not to look this gift horse in the mouth.
After Saturday's show, I went straight home and got on some nicer clothes. As was arranged, Simon picked me up around 9:30 and took me to Knightsbridge. He pulled up to this large townhouse and dropped me off right at the door where a uniformed doorman awaited. I merely took out my envelope and the doorman let me in straightaway. Perhaps this wasn't as exclusive a party as I expected, or perhaps the feather offered some further access.
I was escorted into a rather gaudily decorated parlor; gold leaf everywhere, feathers, lots of blue and purple. I walked right into a typical party; there were only men around, all in their nice suits and wigs sipping from glasses and chatting amongst themselves. I walked through a bit crestfallen. Why the hell was Jacob being so secretive about this party? Perhaps the real entertainment would come a bit later. I did get a glass and talked with a few of the other partygoers. It was all the usual conversational rubbish; business, women, houses, trips across Europe, hardly anything scandalous.
I was back at the bar for another drink when the butler approached me, asking to get a better look at my invitation. I handed him the envelope with the feather. He looked inside and gave this little nod.
"You do have access to a more exclusive section of the house where there is some richer refreshment," he whispered in my ear. "Shall I escort you?"
Oh this was intriguing. I politely accepted his request, he motioned for me to follow him and I did so. We went through some of the side hallways that were more and more unoccupied the further we walked. I was becoming slightly nervous, but I was sure the mystery would end soon. The butler stopped at a black door and put a key in the lock. He unlocked the door and motioned for me to enter. I followed him down a set of stairs lit by large lamps on the wall. He locked the door behind us, making me a bit more uneasy.
He escorted me down the stairs into this cellar area that was adorned with rugs and tapestries of some sort of Oriental styling. He took me down a hallway and another short set of stairs, then unlocking another door. It was now that I heard the usual laughter and chatter of a party, plus a few other noises that would be indecipherable to more innocent ears but telling to those in the know. The real party was behind this door. The butler escorted me through, then opened up a side door and produced a luscious green nightgown and a towel embroidered in brown and gold. He said there was a bath behind this door and said he would leave me alone to undress. I tried to keep from grinning right then; what magnificent debauchery awaited me behind that door.
The butler took his leave, locking the door behind me. I undressed to my shirt and britches to be careful then put on the robe. If I stepped though this door to see a collective of naked old hags and their husbands and their wrinkled saggy skin I would be rather cross. I opened the door and stepped through, closing it behind me, the smell of perfumes and minerals greeting me. I took a moment to close the door and was about to wait before looking up, then I realized I was hearing nothing but male voices.
I looked up and saw men; men in various states of undress from their shirts to completely bare. Some were wading in this large Roman-style bath. Some were locked in kisses, some were giving others massages, some were outright fondling each other's nude bodies right there, some were kissing as they walked into side rooms. I stood in awe for one moment, seeing a few of the gentlemen wave in my direction, some enticing me to come forward.
Jacob: dear, dear brother, you magnificent bastard you. This was one hell of a congratulations gift.
Running in the direction of the action would have looked boorish, not to mention falling down on the wet stones would have been rather unfortunate. I made my way over as gracefully as I could, greeting the gentlemen and making mental note of every wink and smile in my direction. I didn't recognize anyone thankfully, though it was a natural assumption everyone here was of some status.
I took some wine, got into a few conversations. A handsome gentleman with long black hair conversed with me about Michelangelo while removing my shirt and massaging my shoulders. He was an amazing kisser, though another debonair chap with hair like corn silk wanted to cut in for his own kiss. I said there was enough of my to go around. A minute later we were in one of the side rooms sampling each other's goods in a myriad lovely ways. Oh how I loved variety.
We returned to the party with kisses and small finger caresses before I set my sights on a gentleman with short brown hair and amazing muscles. He took a bit of wooing, though was agreeable to some exercise in tongues before we took turns in a more aggressive way. I intended to take a break after this, until this older chap told me he could give me a massage that would make me cry out to God. I was hardly a religious man, but I was certainly hailing the Lord after he got done with me.
By then I was walking on wobbling legs and went into another room, the main bar room, for some quieter refreshment. Nothing more was going on in there than a bit of kissing and some actual conversations. I actually met our host; his plum robe embroidered in gold was a bit hard to miss. A very charming molly, very intelligent; I wasn't too fond of his color scheme but that was my personal tastes.
I returned to the bathing area with drink in hand readying myself to enjoy the warm water a bit more. I casually scanned the group, the same scene as it was a moment ago with a couple new arrivals. I looked to one couch and caught sight of this beautiful dark, auburn hair. I believe I had my next target. I walked a bit closer to the back of the room where my prey sat in a couch clad in only a robe, a servant boy feeding him grapes like a king. Then I saw his face and froze, a year's worth of memories rushing back to me; a year's worth of anger.
I didn't know if I should sneak off or run up to him and break every bone in that pretty face of his; though I knew I had little actual reason to do that. He was absent from the group that bloodied me up, that didn't mean he wasn't involved. Here was Victor Shelly himself right in front of me; the man I had shared with Reg, the man I shared tears with over Reg's death, the man who could very well have betrayed me with the others. For the past year and a half I had tried to mentally prepare myself if I ever ran into one of these twats, but here was one right in front of me and I stood in a coward's freeze.
I thought to casually shift away from him, but alas his eyes set upon me. He took a second to look at me, then his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He pushed away his manservant and walked right over to me, his lips formed my name. A part of me begged me to run off, but that would have been cowardice. Instead I stood there, my blood simmering and my muscles tightening. By his step I could tell he had more than a few drinks in him; it would mean I would have to beat him harder for him to feel it.
"Grell," he gasped.
"Victor," I replied politely, the back of my throat tight.
"Dearest Grell, you're all right," Victor said again, his tone one of pure awe.
"Does that make you happy?" I said, my tone a bit darker. "Or disappointed."
His shoulders slumped and his face took an expression of hurt.
"I know what you're thinking, I would be thinking the same if it were me who were so betrayed," he said.
"Would you now?"
He walked a bit closer to me, his hands outstretched. I smacked them away from me, his expression grew more pained.
"Bloody Judas with a smiling face," I hissed.
"Then string me up alongside him, Grell," Victor pleaded. "Beat me, burn me, such is what your enemies deserve but I swear to you I had no hand in that melee. Swear it upon my life I will, I could never have left you so."
"You laid with the dogs! How do I know you don't have their mange?"
"Grell please…"
He rook another step before me and I backhanded him across the face. He fell back, I could hear other guests stopping and gasping. Victor fell to his knees.
"Give me their punishment Grell," he said, his voice cracking. "I want to know how much pain you went through."
I hit him again, he turned the other cheek like a good Christian and I slapped him again. He then took my hand and kissed it. This wasn't enough for me, though this certainly would be enough for me in a bad way if this continued in such a public area. I grabbed his shoulder and lifted him to a stand. He acquiesced, tears running down his face. I grabbed his arm and pulled him into a side room, a few of the guests giggling as I dragged him away.
I went into the room and threw him down on the couch, closing the door then ripping off his robe. I wanted him to know my pain, my anger. He got my kicks, my smacks, my claws and bites. I forced myself on him rough, hard, and dry. I slammed his head against the couch frame, I punched him with every thrust, I raked my nails and teeth over every sensitive area. He only whimpered while I yelled and grunted. By the end we gave only sighs and yells of passion. I smelled his blood, I watched it ooze from his nose and from the scratches down his body. I felt truly satisfied, enjoying his flesh even more. Both of us had our moments at the same time, I eventually came to a sit on a chair on the other side of the room.
Victor lie on the couch moving very little. I was concerned at first I may have been a little too rough on him; this was the last thing I needed right now. Soon he was breathing heartily and looking more at me. I glared at him, but was too exhausted to fight. I was actually willing to listen to whatever might come out of his mouth.
"Oh how I have missed you so," he said.
"Can't say the feeling was mutual," I replied.
He rose slightly from the couch, slowly bringing himself to a sit.
"You hate me," he said, his words slightly muffled from his split lip. "I can't say as though I blame you."
"What did you know about that whole thing?" I snapped. "What did Harlowe tell you about his plans? Did you just decide to sleep in that night as I was nearly killed?"
He winced and looked at the floor, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I know you won't believe me, but I swear to God I had no idea what they were planning," he whimpered. "I barely saw after the graduation ceremony. The minute I did he was half drunk, a bit less angry but still on edge. We spoke about the last time we spent with Reg."
"And you told him you had your special moment with him just a day or so before graduation. The fucker told me the exact same thing."
Victor paused for a moment, then he winced again and put his head in his hand.
"Oh God why didn't I think about this," he groaned. "Harlowe…Harlowe asked me if I knew when you had your last moment with Reginald."
"He asked me the same thing. He figured after talking to you and some of the other lads that I was the last one to spend time with him."
"Jealous bastard, pathetic swine."
I should have left the assumption at that, but there was a greater matter at stake. Mentioning this might just take any lingering accusations off me.
"Jealousy? Maybe, but it's a bit more serious than that," I said. "Harlowe accused me of killing Reg."
Victor looked at me in horror.
"What the devil!" he gasped. "No; bloody imbecile, no!"
He paused, resting his head on his hand and looking to collect himself for a moment.
"No, I can't say I'm surprised," he continued. "Harlowe was locked in denial; he worshipped Reg. We all did but he was a bit more possessive. He idolized him ever since they met; he was a big brother to him, a protector, a role model, the sultan's favorite harem girl. His idol couldn't end his own life, so someone must have done it so he creates fantastical stories, sets his sights on the one may have gotten closer to Reg than we all did."
"Hence jealousy all along. That's what I told him as I lay bloody on the ground; he just wanted to eliminate the one closer than he."
"It's bollocks, Grell, sheer bollocks. Reginald killed himself, end of story. He wasn't the rock we all thought he was." Victor paused for a moment. "In truth I will always regret not seeing the red flag right in front of my face."
I furrowed my eyebrows and looked at him. Victor took a few more breaths, likely to keep himself from weeping.
"I was with him a few nights before graduation," he continued. "I'd noticed he was a bit more melancholy in the weeks leading up to the big day, I'm sure you noticed it too."
"I did indeed."
"Something was even more different about him that night. He was very somber; his speech was softer; he was less bellowing, less haughty. I tried to get him to talk to me but he just said he was rather relaxed. I took his word for it, but something just felt odd. When we heard the news, I just kicked myself over and over for not seeing it, wondering so many times if something I said, something I did could have saved him."
I looked down for a moment and sighed. Something could have saved him, someone could have saved him and that responsibility fell to me. No. I couldn't go on thinking on this. Reg ended himself that night, that was it.
"Victor we all have thought that," I said. "It's not going to change his fate; nothing any of us could have said or done would have changed that."
Victor ran a hand through that luscious auburn hair and sighed hard.
"I know, Grell," he said. "I know that, it's only been in the past few months that I can truly accept that."
I nodded, ready to change the conversation to some more pressing matters relative to that finale at the hands of Harlowe.
"What do you know about Thad and the boys' last gift to me," I asked.
Victor rolled his eyes, his expression irritated.
"The twat came up to me the morning I was supposed to leave, telling me he shared an 'illuminating conversation' with you on your decorum," he said. "A few of the other chaps were boasting about it before breakfast. Then a bunch of others rushed up to me, they said they saw you walk through the hall like a withered gent; skin all black, blue and puffed up. I just told them I didn't know, all the while worrying. Then I come back next term and see you weren't there, I'll be honest I thought the absolute worst."
"You cared about me?"
"I most certainly did, and I still do. How badly did they hurt you?"
"Our classmates gave you rather accurate descriptions. Three broken ribs, pissing blood, lost a few teeth, stitched, damn near bedridden for a month, they did quite a job on me."
"Suffering Christ, Grell. Villains and cowards, every last bloody one of them."
"And how many laughs did I get when everyone returned?"
"A few, though you were mostly forgotten. Thaddeus didn't come back."
"What joy for King's Crest."
"I heard he was sent to another school, never heard a name. A few of them didn't return either, perhaps they thought a school that has a suicide is no moral place for their children. As if the roaming band of bullies was any more righteous."
"We're talking aristocrats, Victor, does any of this surprise you?"
Victor grimaced and nodded.
"Why didn't you come back?" he asked. "The word going around that your family wanted to give you some hands-on business experience."
"That was indeed true," I said. "Moreover they also said that was not a suitable environment for me for many reasons. Apparently word of our rudeness to other students has been going around my brothers' social circles."
"It's going around other circles too and caught right up with us. Both my parents gave me a rather stern talking to and my brother just had to chime in. I've been a lovely target for chastising by so many angry parents, some holding their spouses back from pummeling me. I'm sure our victims made sure their parents knew about this, especially after what happened with Reg."
I knew exactly who one of these brats were; however I didn't want to name any names out of respect of one said parent who was now a friend.
"In truth I think that was the best for us," I said.
"I couldn't agree more," Victor replied. "Alex and I did a bit more mentoring, or rather some book carrying and lesson assistance to show we could be a bit humble; or rather salvage a bit more of our reputations. Most of the other lads scattered to the winds."
"I assume you graduated."
"I did indeed. Couldn't wait to finally have my certificate and get the hell out of there, though perhaps battle scars build character."
I looked aside and sighed, feeling my blood cooling.
"What will you do from here on?" I asked.
"I'm leaving in two weeks, actually; going on the Grand Tour that everyone of our ilk is so fond of: Paris, Venice, Naples, Vienna, the list goes on. What of you? Continuing with the company?"
"Actually I leave for Oxford at the end of the month."
Victor smiled and nodded, clearly impressed with what he heard.
"Felicitations," he said.
"Merci," I replied.
"In my opinion you're doing much more with yourself than any of us."
Victor looked down at himself, then at me; this stupid smile coming over his face.
"We've been chatting like mad and we're both completely naked," he said with a laugh.
I paused, then started laughing.
"That's comfort for you. Not to mention I was a bit hard on you."
He gently felt his bruises with that same smile.
"I deserved it," he snickered. His expression straightened and he looked at me for a moment. "Now do you believe me?"
"I can't afford to right now," I replied without pause.
He nodded in understanding.
"You've been through too much," he said. "I only hope you can come to trust me on this, but I will never blame you if you don't."
"I appreciate the sentiment," I replied.
By the time we put our robes back on and returned to the party, most everyone was passed out or enjoying quieter drinks and kissing. We got quite a few double takes for Victor's bruises, even a few giggles though it was clear there was no strife between us now; our relaxed smiles and occasional playful caresses communicated that rather well. Victor and I chatted a bit more, had a few more glasses of wine, I helped him apply a warm compress to his face.
I actually felt a bit more comfortable with him. It was just like the old days, though a bit more relaxed. The party broke in the early morning hours, the downstairs company returning to the main house and dressing. Guests left a few at a time over the next few hours. Victor and I enjoyed a bit of bread and cheese, then decided it was time to part. He gave me an open invitation to visit his townhouse before he left; apparently his parents bought him his own. I told him I would have to take him up on that offer. Simon then arrived with the carriage. We parted with a gentle kiss behind closed doors and waved goodbye outside.
Did I trust Victor any more? Hardly. Was I cross with him? Not especially, though I still had to consider all possibilities. The fact he was not in the melee told me enough then, but perhaps I learned a bit more now. I realized when I returned home how happy I was for our reunion, more so for the possibility of making peace with that part of my life.
On Monday I heaped my praises on Jacob for the invitation. He merely said with a wink he was happy I had such a splendid time. I was in a good mood all day, then went home and found something that lifted my spirits even more. Sitting in my post box was a white envelope with a gold seal that seemed familiar somehow. I studied it for a second, then the widest smile came over my face; it was the seal of Marteille.
I ripped the envelope open; a white, ruffled handkerchief fell from the paper, my hand trembled as I held it. I gently put the handkerchief aside and then set eyes on the flowing script of my dearest comte. How lovely it was to read his impeccably worded French.
My Dearest Grell,
A thousand apologies for neglecting to write to you for this long. You can understand the press of dull business and how it overshadows the better parts of life…like good friends such as yourself. Our partnership with your family is thriving and we celebrate prosperity. I sincerely hope there is ample prosperity in your life.
Pierre gave me a sizeable update on his life. He shared an audience with King Louis and the beautiful Marie during the spring and was absolutely gushing about the experience. Having met our regent for but a moment when I was a child I shared his enthusiasm. There were a few updates on some of his most recent ventures, he told me how the party selection was a bit dull this season.
I do hope you can return to Paris soon, but I understand how a talented young man as yourself has to mind your own affairs. I myself am overdue to pay Jacob a visit, perhaps I will get to London and we can reunite in happiness. I miss you terribly, my friend. I miss our conversations, our happy moments shared together, I miss the very sight of you.
I was in danger of giggling like a lovestruck maiden, though I savored the warmth radiating from my cheeks at his words.
I pray to the Almighty that we will be in each other's presence again. Until then please keep a little memory of me. Until we meet again, good sir.
Sincerely,
Pierre
I lifted the handkerchief and held it to my nose, inhaling the aroma of his cologne. This was hardly comparable to having him right here, but I still had a piece of him now; something to remind me of his handsomeness, his gentility, the softness of his touch, the sight of his strong form laid bare before me. I placed the handkerchief back in the envelope and put it in the bottom of one of my drawers.
I would have to write him back, tell him about Oxford, perhaps I would mention the theater. Should I mention Victor? It was a bit to early for that.