Disclaimer: I don't own any of the recognizable characters, Valve does. But if I owned Nick I'd treat him EVER so well...
Ellis wasn't sure how he'd found himself in the jewelry store. It started when they were walking along some stores and shops in Georgetown, getting him some nice clothes and checking out various books. Around the time Wednesday and Rochelle began arguing about whether or not the reporter would buy 'Twilight' for the teenager, Ellis decided it was time to take his leave and told them he'd be in one of the other stores in the small area. And that store happened to be one that sold jewelry. It had initially been because he didn't want to get too far from his companions, but soon he was actually looking at various items, without a goal or a clue as to why he was doing it. He scratched the back of his head and removed his hat briefly, at once feeling self conscious looking the way he did in a fancy shop like this one.
The things Francis had said the night before hadn't been taken to heart at first. The biker was, like usual, making a big thing out of nothing. But the more that Ellis tried not to take it to heart, the more he couldn't help but think about the very idea of marriage, namely the very idea of marriage to Nick. Would it really be all that different? Probably not. Of course, the mechanic was still convinced that the label itself would probably scare the gambler off, and so he knew that he wasn't about to ACTUALLY bring it up to him.
Of course, if Nick did get that job as Assistant Director of FBICE in D.C. it would be legal…
He shook the thought from his head, and instead opted to just look at the rings that were available. JUST look. He smiled a bit to himself, knowing exactly what the con man would like and what he wouldn't like of the jewelry in the store. It was comforting knowing that he was completely confident in his knowledge of Nick and his tastes.
"Can I help you find anything today?" the salesman behind the counter asked, and Ellis flushed momentarily before shaking his head.
"Just lookin' right now, thanks," he mumbled, considering turning tail and leaving the store. But before he could, Rochelle and Wednesday walked in, carrying their bags and chit chatting back and forth. In, once again, bickering tones.
"You're a jerk," Wednesday huffed.
"I beg your pardon! You'll thank me someday when you're happily married to a great guy who treats you with respect and dignity!" Rochelle snapped, shaking her head and then waving at Ellis. "Hey Sweetie. Of all the places I'd look for you I never thought I'd find you in here of all places. What are you-?"
"Nothin'! Just lookin'! It's not a big deal!" Ellis exclaimed awkwardly, and before Rochelle could question it he went on to the next. "Hey Wednesday, did you get your book?"
"No."
"You COULD have if you had wanted to," Rochelle pointed out.
"Yeah, there was no way I was going to do that with YOU," Wednesday said, and Ellis tilted his head in confusion. Wednesday sighed, as if embarrassed to even recount it, and said "She said that the only way she would buy me 'Twilight' was if after I was finished with it we'd sit down and have a 'frank and honest' discussion about what makes a healthy relationship and how women aren't prizes to be won."
"Wow. You sure sucked the fun out've that book," Ellis said to his friend, and Rochelle sniffed, crossing her arms.
"Those were the stipulations. She chose not to agree to them. I bought her Barbara Kingsolver instead," Rochelle said. "You got a book out of it. Next time bring money." Wednesday was about to respond with a sarcastic and whiney comment, but before she could the reporter hopped topics. "Sooooo, what are we doing in a jewelry store, Ellis?"
"I told you, I was just lookin' is all," Ellis claimed, scratching the back of his head nervously. "I, I might want to get a watch."
"Uh huh," Rochelle nodded, though she clearly wasn't buying it. Before she could continue to prod and tease, the pager in her purse began to go off. "Oh wow! They're done already?"
Ellis felt a wave of relief rush through him, and he exhaled slowly. "That's good! And kinda quick, isn't it? I thought these sorta things took awhile or somethin'."
"Well, I have to go find a phone so I can call back, just to confirm it," Rochelle said, and was about to ask the jeweler, but decided against it when it was clear that he was mad that they were all loitering without buying. "There's a bar a few doors down, I'll go ask them. Be right back, guys."
"Kay," Ellis said, and turned back to the rings. He never really understood Nick's love of jewelry for his hands. Ellis certainly couldn't see himself wearing anything so fancy, at least not unless it was a wedding ring, of course.
Stop thinking about that, he chided himself, and was about to roll his eyes at his inner turmoil, but saw that Wednesday was watching him. He looked away, and shrugged. "What?" he asked.
"….. So what about that one?" she asked, pointing at a silver ring with twisting designs on the band.
"What about it?"
"Think Nick would like it?" she asked. "Or is he one of those 'I don't wear rings unless they're made of man's man things like titanium'?"
"Are you kiddin'? You've seen the ones he has, they're gold and shit," Ellis said, shaking his head. "I think he'd think that titanium was… I don't know, stupid. He'd probably like the silver…. Or maybe that gold one right there-."
"No, not the gold one," Wednesday said, shaking her head. "You should get him the silver one. Then get matching gold ones for the wedding bands."
"WHY does everyone think that I'm gonna ask him to marry me?" Ellis asked, blushing once again.
"You aren't?"
"We've only been together for a few weeks!"
"Rochelle says that you were together during the Flu."
"That was…. That was WAY different," Ellis said.
"And I thought that you were totally pining after him for three years."
"… Never mind," he said, firmly. Sure, they'd been pining after each other. But that, in his mind, didn't count.
"Well, anyway, the silver one is nice if you're really thinking about getting him something," she said. "Engagement ring or not."
"Thanks…" He turned to the girl, and smiled kindly. "How are you holdin' up, Wednesday?"
"….. I'm holding," she nodded. "…. It's nice to be away from all…. That." She wrinkled her nose, and before she could dwell longer she turned to look at other ones.
After a few minutes, she pointed to another silver ring. "That one's really nice. Hey, sales guy."
"My name is Trent," the salesman said, and Wednesday shrugged.
"Whatever. How much is that one going for?" she asked, pointing at the second ring.
"Did you save up enough money in your piggy bank?" he asked, acerbically, and she glared.
"She isn't interested," Ellis said, shooting her a look.
"Was it you who was then?"
"… Maybe. How much is it?" he asked. It wasn't like he was going to buy it. He was just wondering.
"Four hundred and fifty dollars."
Now he REALLY wasn't going to buy it.
"Dang," he said.
"Well what about that one?" Wednesday asked, pointing at the first one.
"That's two hundred and fifty. It hasn't been moving so it's on sale," the salesman said. "Not many men like rings that have too much design to them, it seems."
"Hm," Ellis said, chewing on his fingernail. He was about to ask if he could see it, just because he was curious, of course, but before he could Rochelle came back into the store. Oh good, now I won't have time to get it, he thought, and smiled at her. "Hey Ro! What did they say? Is it all done?"
Rochelle walked forward, trying to keep a calm face, but he could see by her eyes that she hadn't liked what she'd heard on the phone. "…. Hey guys. Let's go to the car, shall we?"
"Oh don't tell me they're gonna be late," Ellis said, huffing a bit. "I mean, I understand that these things kinda take time, but Nick was real excited about that dinner we're goin' to."
Rochelle chewed on her lip, and looked at Wednesday, who looked at her guardian and back to Ellis. "We'll talk about it in the car," was all she said.
Ellis could feel a deep alarm in the very pit of his stomach. Yes, Rochelle was keeping her cool very well, but he could tell by her eyes, and her body language, that something was very wrong. He scratched his elbow nervously, and nodded. "Yeah, okay," he said, and smiled as best he could. It was as if acquiescing to her request would somehow make everything okay, that if he did this she would then tell him that oh yes, Nick was finished with his job and he was on his way back to Morgan's and they would finally have their whole lives ahead of them. So he tried to keep a calm demeanor about himself as they walked back to the car, even if there was a tension lingering over them that was ripping at his gut.
He sat in the passenger seat of the car, and turned to Rochelle, who was staring ahead blankly. "Okay, so what was so important that you had to wait for the car?" he asked, attempting to sound blithe.
She turned to look at him, and took in a deep breath. "Well, that was Francis…. Sweetie, there's some news… It's…." She trailed off, and looked out the window again, trying to gather herself.
The dread was still rising up in him slowly, bubbling and fizzing through his defensive denial. "…. What's goin' on, Ro?" he asked, stomach starting to hurt.
She took in a deep breath through her nose, obviously pained to have to be the one to break the news to him, and she took his hand. "It's Nick, sweetie…."
"… Is he dead?" Ellis asked, softly. That was his initial thought, and a strange overpowering numbness seemed to take over, as if steadying him for the answer.
"No!... No, he…" she struggled with the words, mouth open as she tried to string a coherent sentence together. "…. He was-."
"RO, PLEASE," Ellis exclaimed, the numbness suddenly shattering so violently that Wednesday jumped in the backseat of the car and Rochelle flinched. "Please tell me what's goin' on-!"
"Creevy, it was Creevy!" Rochelle answered, closing her eyes and gripping the steering wheel. "He got in the car with him, and something went wrong! He… He took him, Ellis. He took him."
Numbness went to fear, and fear went to horror. "Oh God," Ellis murmured, leaning forward in his seat. Even though he'd worried and fretted about this exact scenario, now that it had come to fruition he realized that his worry and fretting hadn't prepared him for it. Not even a little bit. His insides clenched and tumbled, and he put his hands to his forehead.
"Francis said that we need to go back to Morgan's office and that they're trying to figure something out," she said, trying to be comforting no matter how futile it was.
"And then what?" Ellis asked, voice muffled by his arms. She started the car, and shook her head.
"They're going to talk to McCarthy, the CEDA guy, and then they're going to send out a shit ton of agents to look-."
"I thought he was being tracked!" the mechanic exclaimed, voice thick and fearful, and she shook her head.
"Creevy threw the device out the window, he saw right through it," she said. "They think that he figured everything out before Nick even showed up, if he drugged him it took planning."
"Dr-drugged?" he asked, and Wednesday pulled her legs up to her chest, the sudden storm of intense emotions too much for her.
"They don't know for sure," Rochelle explained, trying her best to keep calm for his sake. "But… Nick had stopped talking a bit before the tape ended. And we both know that Nick likes to talk back to Creevy, so they think that-."
"I'm gonna throw up," Ellis announced abruptly.
"What-?"
"PULL OVER, I'm gonna throw up!" he repeated, hands clasping at the door handle. She did as she was told, and pulled the car off to the side of the street. He threw the door open, and leaned over the parking lot asphalt, vomiting up his lunch. Rochelle winced, and rubbed his back soothingly as he rode out the sudden nausea. Why do I always throw up when I'm this upset? he thought bitterly as he wretched and heaved. Tears stung at his eyes, but he forced them back, because if he cried it was as if he was giving up.
"… Ellis," she began, but he ignored her. "…. You need to calm down-."
"HOW CAN I CALM DOWN?" he demanded, yanking himself back into the car.
"I don't know how but you NEED to!" she said coarsely, and he shook his head, but she took him by the cheeks. "No, listen! You need to calm down!"
"I can't believe you're sayin' that-!"
"You need to calm down because you need to keep your wits about you!" she said, firmly. "We don't know anything yet, Francis and Morgan and on top of this doing the best they can. They are going to tear this city apart looking for Nick, you KNOW that. And Nick would want you to be calm. You're no good in a panic."
"Ro, he's been KIDNAPPED-!"
"I KNOW," she said, voice extremely stern now. He needed to gather himself, and the only way he would do it was if she stunned him to silence. He shut his mouth, looking as if he'd been slapped, and averted his eyes as he began to shake. She took his hands in hers, and squeezed them as reassuringly as she could. "Listen to me. Yes, this is bad. And yes, I know you're scared, I'm terrified and I'm not nearly as close to him as you are. You must be fighting ever impulse to just….lose it.
"But you CAN'T lose it, sweetie," she continued, petting his face. "You need to keep your head because Nick needs all the help he can get right now, and for you to help you NEED to be calm."
He nodded a few times, breathing in through his nose and attempting not to start panicking and gasping. "….. The last time I saw him I didn't even tell him I love him," he said, that awful realization being the only thing that came to mind.
She closed her eyes, his words damn near breaking her heart, and she swallowed down the lump in her throat as she shook her head. "So you tell him when you see him next."
"But what if I never see him again?" he asked. She chewed the inside of her cheek, and shook her head at him.
"Don't say that," she commanded, voice trying it's best not to shake. "You never gave up on Nick in the past, don't you dare do it now."
Ellis took in a shaky breath, finding it infinitely difficult to be at all optimistic about this. Yes, Nick was indelibly smart, and resourceful, and Francis and Morgan were no doubt going to bust their asses and devote all resources to finding him. But that didn't matter to him at the very heart of his emotions. All that mattered was that his boyfriend was in trouble, and Ellis was absolutely powerless in the face of it.
So he leaned forward, hands to his head, trying not to let utter helplessness completely consume him. Rochelle was right. He was no good to Nick if he was an emotional mess. Nick would want him to be strong, to keep a clear head and stay calm. But all he could think about were the scars on Nick's chest, and how this time it could be much, much worse.
Nick had to fight to open his eyes. They were drooping stubbornly, and it felt like it took all of his strength just to be able to see again. His vision blurred briefly, and he looked around, head rolling about dazedly. Okay, where the fuck? he thought, and tried to put a hand to his head. But he was unable to lift his arm. He looked down, eyebrows drawing together, and saw that his left arm was duct taped to a chair. He snorted, and looked at his right arm. Same deal. He tried lifting them again, and attempted to lean forward to give himself a little leverage. But he could barely move his torso as well, and saw MORE duct tape around his chest.
Oh, I get it. That sadistic son of a bitch totally kidnapped me.
"FUCK!" he snarled, struggling against the restraints. The chair he was in rocked back and forth, and he didn't stop trying to move until he nearly tipped over. Figuring that it would be better to remain sitting and not on the floor, he stopped moving, and closed his eyes. "Okay… Okay, calm down," he muttered to himself. "First step: Chill. Just… Chill." Maybe the first step is to stop talking to yourself, he thought, and chuckled a bit maniacally. Second step, figure out where you are.
He looked around, and could honestly say that he had no idea just where he was. He craned his neck, looking up towards the ceiling, and noticed a staircase behind him that led up to a bell. So… I'm in a church, he thought, thinking that Creevy was really going for the obsessive nostalgic angle. No Witches though. So he had that going for him. He tried twisting one of his arms in the duct tape, thinking that maybe it would give a bit if he was slow. He winced as he tried twisting it, and chewed on his lip in concentration. When it was clear that that wasn't going to work, he swore again.
Fucking asshole, he thought, wondering just where his captor had gone. He shook his head grimly, having not realized just how obsessed Creevy was with him. He probably should have figured, as the guy was like a persistent and insidious shadow that would trail him wherever he went. He really should have seen this coming.
Well, Francis and Morgan have to know that something went wrong, he thought, and wrinkled his nose. So they were no doubt working hard trying to find him. He looked around again, and his green eyes fell on the boarded up window. There were small cracks in the wood that light was shining through, so he knew it was still daytime. He strained to listen for any noises that might give him a hint as to where he was. Judging by the disarray of the dank and mildewy room, he had to assume that it wasn't frequented often. If at all.
Before he could try to figure out if there was any signs of life outside, the door on the far end of the room opened slightly, and Nick's head whipped towards it, shifting the chair against the wood floor as best he could. Mark Creevy slipped through the gap in the door, carrying a hand gun in one hand an a bolt cutter in the other. "I forgot just how fucked New England is in the Grey Zones still," the CEDA agent said, closing the door with his foot. "You wouldn't believe the amount of Infected that are crawling around outside right now."
"Oh yes?" Nick asked, feigning interest. "How fascinating. Never thought about it before. Also, WHAT THE FUCK YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE?" He rattled the chair a bit, and Creevy smirked, his lips drawing across his teeth in a cadaverous grin.
"So, welcome," he said, putting his gun away. "It isn't perfect, but I'm pretty satisfied, how about you?"
"Not sure what's supposed to be satisfying me," Nick said, snidely. "The duct tape, or the fact it smells like piss in here. Or maybe it's a mystery third thing that I'm unaware of."
"You wound me," Creevy replied, walking behind Nick ever so slowly, the gambler trying to move his gaze to keep an eye on him. "You'd be surprised by how tough it was for me to find the perfect church this morning. I was up at the crack of dawn, driving around the Grey Zone, searching for an ideal that I wasn't sure could be found outside the Southwest. And yet here we are."
"….. I don't know, man, this doesn't look much like that church in Santa Fe outside the bell tower," Nick said, finally catching Creevy in his eyeline as the CEDA agent stopped circling him and paused a few feet away. The older man shrugged, and looked around the belfry calmly.
"I remember this church," he said, voice flat. "Used to know people who went here. It was a really popular sanctuary during the Infection, which might be why it used to be such a hotbed for Infected. This part of the Grey Zone is still rather raucous, actually. All the buildings are boarded up, chained shut. I had to clean this place out of ten separate zombies after breaking the chains." He held up the bolt cutter for emphasis, but continued. "I didn't want any of them disturbing us."
"Yes, those pesky, tactless Infected," Nick grumbled, getting really irritated with the conversation.
"… .A Boomer Bile Cap? REALLY, Nick?" Creevy asked. "That was all you could think of?"
"I thought it was pretty good, actually," Nick sniffed. "YOU seemed to fall for it. Unless you're Meryl Streep now."
"I'll admit, I DID fall for it at first," Creevy said, pacing in front of him. "But then I began thinking. I know you well enough to know that if you DID have something like that, you would have just taken it to Morgan, who would have made sure that I was taken down."
"Yeah, I'm REALLY wishing I had snagged that stupid thing when I had the chance," Nick muttered.
"I'll bet."
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"What exactly is it you think you're going to achieve by doing this?" The Z-Man moved his fingers and hands as best he could in emphasis. "So you've kidnapped me, you're probably going to try and kill me, and… then what? You've kidnapped a Federal Agent, dumbass! I'm not some civilian, or willing to just stay quiet. And even if you DO kill me, Francis and Morgan are no doubt fully aware of what's going on, so-."
"Spare me," Creevy said. "I have no intention of 'getting away' with this. I know that everything I'm doing here is going to change my life. But I've adapted before. And I know that there are anti-Government hillbillies and psychos who live in the Grey Zone. I'm sure I won't find it that difficult."
"Ah yes, a tempting alternative if there ever was one," Nick said, snorting. "You know, that was MY Plan B when you tried to frame me… Frankly I liked it better when you were trying to frame me."
"I'm sure," Creevy said.
"Do you know how goddamn pathetic you are?" Nick continued, laughing a bit. "I mean JESUS, most people would have just let it go after trying to get me the first time. I didn't even report you when you tried to kill me, I let you off scot free for God's sake."
"You know that wouldn't satisfy me."
"Obviously. Hence why I said you're pathetic. Tell me, do you fantasize and dream of bad things happening to me 24/7? Because you totally seem obsessed enough. CHRIST, you aren't going to know what to do with yourself after this is over and done with," Nick needled.
"I'm sure I'll manage," Creevy said, and stepped forward, setting the bolt cutters on the creaky floor. "Besides. I plan on giving myself plenty of happy memories to keep me going for awhile."
"I'm not comfortable with being your masturbatory fodd-."
Before he could finish the snide comment, Creevy slugged him across the face. Nick's head whipped to the side, and a mass of stars exploded momentarily in his head. "FUCK!" he shouted, leaning forward a bit, the pain more potent than he thought it would be.
"I'd never masturbate to the thought of you," Creevy said, lowly. "Contrary to what you may believe, not everyone wants you to fuck them." Nick chuckled a bit through the pain, really feeling like pressing his luck. Maybe he was a bit of a masochist, he didn't know.
"That's not what I'VE heard, but I suppose it makes sense with you since you're obviously TERRIFIED of a hot, throbbing cock being shoved up your ass."
This earned him another smack to the face. He kept in a yell, as he wasn't caught off guard this time, and instead licked his lip, tasting blood. Must have cut it on a tooth, he thought, and turned back to Creevy, shrugging. "Whatever, man. Hit me all you want. Frankly, you kind of hit like a sissy. I've had worse from my ex wife, and she was terrified she'd break a nail."
Creevy snickered a bit, and squatted to be face to face with Nick. "That may be. But I do have some help, you know."
"Yeah, well, you never could do anything to me without having SOME form out outside antagonist," Nick said, not sure what Creevy meant by help, as they were alone in the room.
"You'll be interested to know that THAT part of this isn't quite ready yet," Creevy said as he checked his watch, his words a bit confusing to the gambler. "For now, it's just me. Well, me and a few other things." He walked back towards the bolt cutters, picking them up off the floor, and it was then that Nick actually began to get nervous.
"You know, I'm really, really interested in primate behavior," Creevy continued, opening and closing the blades of the cutters slowly. "Learning about it is kind of a hobby of mine, that and military history. I have so many books about chimps, and chimp culture and how they aren't too different from us humans." He glanced over at Nick, mouth slightly open as he played with the implement in his hand. "Chimps are just as bad as people when it comes to violence. They kill each other over territory, over food, over other chimps. And, rather amazingly, they've mastered and fully appreciate the use of tools."
"… So you watch a lot of National Geographic," Nick said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Good on you."
Creevy turned towards Nick, and walked his way. "When chimps fight, some of the first things they target are the fingers," he continued. "After all, hands can grasp, fingers can scratch. Best to immobilize the built in weapons first, you know." He continued to step forward, holding up the bolt cutters. "As much as chimps are nuts, I admire their instincts."
Nick knew what was going to happen. He knew that it was inevitable, and that all he could do was sit back and just deal with it. But, like most people in that situation would do, he couldn't quite reconcile that reality, and shook his head. "Goddammit, Creevy, back off," he warned.
"I don't really know what you think you're going to do if I don't," the CEDA agent said, placing the blades around the gambler's left pinky finger.
"Creevy, I SWEAR TO GOD-!"
"I'm sure you do, but I'm fairly certain He can't be bothered," Creevy said, and slammed the blades shut.
Nick had been in various amounts of pain in his life. When he was young it varied from minor nicks and cuts to a broken arm. In his adulthood it mostly consisted of having the crap beaten out of him. During the Flu, of course, there were Tanks and Hunters and Smokers and other creatures that all would take certain physical tolls. And the coup de grace, of course, being the Witch that had torn into his insides. That one was no doubt the worst.
Losing his pinky to a pair of bolt cutters? That got the silver.
He let out a long and howling scream, the sudden throbbing overtaking every other sense, and he twisted his arm as best he could, though it just wouldn't move. Creevy merely watched the reaction with a mellow smile on his face, taking quite the joy in seeing his nemesis yowling in pain.
"AHGOD! YOU BASTARD! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Nick cursed at him, the feeling of the blood oozing out of his hand horrifying him about as much as the pain did. "You sick sadistic son of a BITCH-!"
"Oh knock it off," Creevy sneered, setting the tool down on the floor before yanking Nick's forward by the collar, keeping the gambler's face mere millimeters from his own. "Make your sham of a badge proud and DEAL with it. There are worse things I could have done, and believe me, I'm so very tempted. But I've restrained myself."
"Oh how fucking kind of you," Nick snarled, trying not to look at his finger on the floor. He would probably throw up if he looked for too long.
"ONLY because I have better things in store," Creevy amended, his cold eyes burrowing into Nick's jade green ones before shoving him away roughly. "Just because I'm not doing it, it doesn't mean I won't be able to enjoy it. In fact, I think that I'm going to gather the most joy out of this situation from my big finale. Which is a bold statement, as that right there?" He pointed at the severed finger. "THAT was pretty fucking awesome."
"You superiors must be so proud," Nick replied, head tipping back as he tried to still his rapid breathing. He knew that one couldn't die from a severed finger under normal circumstances. But one could faint if they didn't catch their breath properly. And he'd rather not faint.
Creevy looked at his watch, and wrinkled his nose. "Unfortunately, we still have a little time to wait. But I can be patient if you can be."
Nick breathed through his nose, trying his very best to ignore the pain. "Doesn't seem like I have much choice, does it?" he asked, grimly.
"No, not really," Creevy agreed. "I'm sure we'll find ways to pass the time." And with that, he smacked Nick's jaw again. The gambler groaned, and spat blood from his mouth.
"….. I take it Yahtzee is out of the question?" he asked sarcastically, and Creevy shook his head.
"I forgot my dice at home."
"Damn."
Nick turned away from the CEDA agent and stared at the wall, his hand killing him and his face stinging. He flexed his fingers, the pain becoming sharper at the nub that used to be his pinky, and he laughed in disbelief. And yet instead of thinking about the pain, or his fear, all he could think about was Ellis, and how worried he probably was. He winced, and exhaled slowly. And the worst thing was, he wasn't sure that he could just tell himself that he'd make it up to the kid when he got out of this. After all, he wasn't entirely sure that he WOULD get out of this.
So, he closed his eyes, and for a few moments just pretended that they were going to that nice dinner, and that he was going to officially ask Ellis to move to D.C. with him, and that he was going to spend the night in a warm bed with his arms around the mechanic.