Author's Note: Well, for some reason when I uploaded the last chapter, it deleted an entire scene written out. Turns out, I'm okay with that though, because I got to morph it into this chapter!

Ta-dah! And I want no complaints on how I went about it! You guys asked for the second half of this chapter, you got it. xD

Chapter 14:

Natasha made her way down to the lab the next afternoon much like she said she would, unlike Clint, she wouldn't let a minor case of the sniffles bring her down. Besides, being a little extra tired was something she could handle. She cleared the tickle from the back of her throat, took a breath, then stepped into the lab. She tucked her hands into her pockets a she stepped up beside Tony and looked at The Hulk raging around inside the containment cell.

"I'm going to get payback for the music yesterday," Tony informed her, to which she smirked and gave a rather nonchalant shrug. "Only someone purely evil would do something that dreadful," came his next comment. "But since he's been Hulked out for several hours now, I'll belay retribution for the time being."

"Hours?" she questioned as she glanced over at the billionaire beside her. He wasn't saying anything, but she had a feeling he knew why Bruce had gone in there so early, and she had a feeling that she knew too. "Bad night?"

"Mmm..." came the affirmation, "He mentioned you stopped an...incident, back in India."

Natasha studied the look on his face, but Tony seemed rather indifferent about it, "I guess I did."

She watched him glance over at her finally, "You know he's not nearly as tough as his angrier half, right?" came the question and she barely managed to keep on her mask at that. "What I'm saying is, you can't keep playing a game of tug-o-war with him. I've watched over the few months," he mentioned. "You pull on the rope, he lets go. He pulls on the rope, you let go. It's the worst game I've ever seen."

"I'm not playing games."

"Could have fooled me," Tony stated as he went back to watching The Hulk.

She stayed quiet at that for a few moments, ignoring the tickle that had reformed back in her throat. Maybe he was right, maybe she was playing a game, even if she hadn't been aware of it. "So, you want me to back off, is that it?" she questioned. It was a little hard to decide what exactly Tony was trying to do here, besides look out for his friend, but at least she understood that part of it.

Tony scoffed at that and gave her a rather pointed look, "I'm saying that you need to stop backing off." Natasha watched as he went and sat down at his computer and she caught the eye of the raging green beast inside the cell, who didn't seem to care one way or the other that she was currently there. "Bruce likes you, maybe not at first, but he does now. And if you can't figure out how to stop backing off after you pull him in, then yes, I'm saying to end whatever this is completely."

She turned her gaze back to Tony and noted that he looked a little perturbed with her non-reaction to his words.

"I'm not questioning your intentions," the billionaire added next, "I'm just questioning your ability to let people inside that wall of yours."

"I know," she finally informed him. Natasha ignored the slight look of surprise on his face, "I'm trying."

Tony seemed to accept that small amount of words, though it didn't stop his next comment, "Well, stop trying. Just be his friend, or don't be his friend. This isn't an in-between thing here, you can't jump which side of the fence you're on whenever you feel like it."

She ignored her instincts that told her to retort with something unkind, because although she was far from simple when it came to things, she wouldn't tell him how it wasn't nearly as easy as choosing left or right. She opted to make no comment at all on his statement. "Open it," she told him.

"You don't want to start with chitchat?"

"Didn't we just do the chitchat?"

She saw the small smirk playing on Tony's lips at her comment and then she watched him look her up and down, "What the hell are you wearing, Romanoff? It's at least about... eighty degrees down in this lab."

"Seventy-nine degrees, sir."

"Right, seventy-nine."

Natasha glanced down at herself, jeans and a black hooded sweater, and she was still a bit chilly. "I didn't realize I needed to dress to impress down here, you never seem to."

"I resent that," Tony gave her the evil-eye, "I'm the definition of impressive. My picture is in the dictionary, right there next to the word 'impressive'."

She rolled her eyes at that, "Would you just open it?"

"Sure, sure," he agreed as he pressed the button. She quirked an eyebrow up when an actual 'person' sized door slid open rather than the entire length of the containment cell. "I made some improvements, just in case another crazy person ever decided to jump into the Hulk-cell," he quipped.

"That's hilarious," she muttered out with a shake of her head. Of course, The Big Guy was already watching her steadily as she stepped inside, so she didn't feel the need to go and warn him that she was about to do so. "Hey, Big Guy..." and he seemed like his usually annoyed self, so she supposed all was well so far. Then he seemed to give her a once over, head to toe, "Really? You have something to say about my wardrobe choice, too?"

She could hear Tony snickering.

"Sure, laugh it up, both of you," she grumbled with a sigh, "Next I'll make a gamma shirt with kittens on it..."

The look on that angry green face was one of being mildly insulted and that actually made her chuckle.

"Did you just threaten our big green friend with a kitten shirt?"

"Shut up, Stark," she called out. She smirked when the Big Guy threw a brick at the glass where Tony was sitting at his computer and the billionaire promptly jumped out of his skin.

"Oh, sure, take her side on the kitten shirt!"

That itch in her throat was really pissing her off though, Natasha figured she probably just needed to get this over with for today, worry about getting more in depth on the de-Hulking later. "Sun's getting real low now, Big Guy," she offered up, figuring it was best to keep things familiar as she raised her hand towards him. "What do you say?"

He looked like he was thinking about it, but he didn't move towards her.

She frowned a little at that, trying to figure it out. This was usually how this went, something about her raised hand usually triggered it, but he didn't look all the interested, just a little more annoyed. It took Natasha a moment to mull it over, the two times he had de-Hulked.

"Maybe he only likes people in near-death situations!"

For the love of... "Shut up, Stark!" she growled again, and another brick flew at the glass. Her head actually hurt now and she rubbed at her eyes a little, but the headache wasn't ebbing away. Think, think...

The first time she had been strapped into that chair, and she hadn't really initiated much of anything on that, except for saying Bruce's name. Obviously Bruce's concern for her well-being had overridden the Big Guy's usually violent anger, but that large green hand had covered hers before that moment where she saw Bruce in those giant eyes.

The other time, she had been on the ground, actually in fear that she was about to be a smear on the pavement when he crushed her. He hadn't though, he had stopped.

The real question was why did he stop?

"I think I get it..." she mumbled to herself before she crouched down.

Those two times she hadn't seemed like a threat to him, the first for obvious reasons, the second for equally obvious reasons.

"Better?" she questioned. He grunted a little with what sounded like agreement before he came stomping towards her in a huff. The Big Guy looked a little like he was debating whether or not he was actually interested in going along with it for another minute before he did a little vulturistic circle around her. She could see the questioning look on Tony's face and she gave the most imperceptible shrug she could manage at that. Still, she had the feeling that even when it was Bruce, the Big Guy was lurking somewhere in his head, he must know what she's trying to do. "C'mon, Big Guy," she offered up. "You know I'm trying to help, right?" She scrunched up her nose a little.

He came back around in front of her and snarled as though he regarded her a bit like she was a nuisance to him.

"I'm doing the best I can manage," she added quietly, and his usually large and angry eyes turned into slits like he was studying her. "I won't back off," she tried next, "I want to help." The tickle was not just in her throat anymore.

He seemed to at least accept it as he raised his hand up just shy of touching hers, much like on the streets of New York last time, and it seemed like it would go without a hitch.

Until she did the unexpected.

Natasha sneezed and the Big Guy jumped back like she had attacked him. The look on his enraged face said he was more than a little offended and he started to stomp around the other end of the cage, shaking the hand that she sneezed on. She took that as a cue to leave the cell rather quickly, and she watched Tony's amused expression as she exited the door he opened for her.

"Did you just sneeze on The Hulk?"

His voice was filled with a mixture of shock and clear amusement at what had just transpired, and really if she had gotten Hulk-Slapped in that moment, she would have accepted that she deserved it. It would have been the most ridiculous reason to be killed by The Hulk, but still, a well-deserved reason.

"I would have smeared the wall with you," came his next quip and she huffed out an amused chuckle.

"You and me both."

Natasha watched his fingers on the keyboard, so she snatched a piece of paper from Bruce's desk, rolled it into a ball and pelted Tony square in the forehead, "If you put that on YouTube, I'll end you, Stark."

He almost looked like a kid who got his candy stolen. "Oh come on, it'll have more hits than when you de-Hulked him on the street," he groaned out. The look of determination must have been clear on her face, because his dream of being a YouTube sensation died quickly, "You're not really about to go back in there, are you? I can see the glint in your eyes and you—you just sneezed on him, that can't possibly be a good idea."

Admittedly, he was probably right. The Big Guy currently looked like a child throwing a temper tantrum in the cage, "He'll get over it..."

"Not anytime soon, I'd imagine," Tony was snickering again and she shook her head a little. It was probably true, the Big Guy was definitely a little peeved.

Of course, the outrageous sneezes weren't over, because another one escaped her. Not only did Tony give her an odd look, but The Hulk looked over like she had just blasphemed him, and then a brick hit the containment cell in front of her.

"Are you sick?"

Natasha glanced over at him, "I'm fine." Of course, that tickle in her throat chose now of all times to finally make its grand entrance, and she cleared her throat. The effort was in vain, because a moment later, she choked out the cough she'd been keeping at bay since she arrived.

"Oh boy..." Tony grumbled out as he stood up. "What cooties did you bring into my lab, Romanoff?" he questioned next as he stood up to get a better look at her. She narrowed her eyes at him slightly as he got about a foot away, then he topped it all off with his next statement, "Jeez, you know... being sick would have been a legitimate excuse to not come here, you know that, right?"

She shrugged indifferently at that.

Then Tony gave her a pompous smile, "You really are trying!" he hooted out.

The man really knew how to make everything just a little more uncomfortable, fortunately, Jarvis seemed ready to save her from any further ridicule, "Miss Romanoff, my sensors indicate you currently have a body temperature of 102.7 degrees Fahrenheit. Might I suggest you get a glass of water and return to your room to rest?"

She cleared the tickle from her throat and sighed, making it a point to ignore the suddenly more concerned look that crossed Tony's face, "Yeah, sure Jarvis." She pretended she didn't see Tony studying her as she rolled the stiffness out of her shoulders, pulled on the hood of her sweater, and stepped out of the lab.

It had been about eight hours since he had been back to himself, and actually slept, that Bruce finally dared to voice his question as he sat in the lab with Tony, "I take it Natasha's de-Hulk attempt didn't work?" He watched as Tony snickered a little, "What's so funny?"

"It was going fine, right up until she sneezed on him, then he threw the biggest tantrum I've ever seen, he stayed Hulked out for about an extra five hours after that," came Tony's amused remark.

Bruce could only stare wide-eyed at him at that, "Natasha sneezed on the Other Guy?"

"Truly priceless," Tony admitted with a grin. It actually was a little funny now that he thought about it, and since the billionaire was laughing about it, Bruce could safely assume Natasha hadn't been splattered for it. "Really though, she should have been in bed," came the next offhanded comment.

He gave his friend and odd look, "Why?"

"Miss Romanoff appears to have the flu, Doctor Banner," came Jarvis' reply.

"How's Red doing, J?"

Bruce waited for that answer now too.

"Unfortunately, Miss Romanoff has once again overridden my system, I cannot currently assess her situation."

He could see Tony face-palm at that and it made him chuckle a little before he stood up, "I'll go check on her."

"Hey, Bruce?"

Bruce glanced back at him, "Yeah?"

Tony looked rather nonchalant when he spoke his next words, "Cut her a little slack." That was not what he expected to hear. "You think she's tough to get along with normally? I imagine a sick Natasha is pretty much a hundred times harder to deal with," came the next comment. Tony gave a little shrug, "I wasn't even sure that woman could get sick."

"Well, she's not a robot, Tony," Bruce muttered with a roll of his eyes, "People who aren't Captain America or giant green rage monsters occasionally do human-like things, such as getting sick."

"Exactly, you'll do well to remember that," came his friend's next comment from left field.

He really had no idea what to make of this conversation, "Right..."

It wasn't until he was out of the lab and inside the elevator that Jarvis spoke up again, "I believe what he was trying to tell you, Doctor Banner, is not to take offense if Miss Romanoff gets a bit..." the AI paused in an attempt to search for the right word, "Prickly."

It actually made him laugh to hear that, "I'll take that under advisement, Jarvis."

"Very well, sir."

Terrible didn't even begin to cover how she felt after she woke up and it actually took an effort for Natasha to drag herself out of the bed and into the bathroom. Earlier she was frozen, now she felt like she was on fire. Still clad in her tank top and shorts, she stepped into the shower, threw down the nozzle and sat down in the spray of cold water. No wonder Laura had called her, she couldn't imagine dealing with Clint and two kids while feeling like this. Other than the occasional infection from a wound, she didn't get sick, not even so much as a cold... and it sucked.

She never even heard the knock on the door to her room in the tower, not over the hammer that was currently pounding against her skull. She very vaguely thought she heard Bruce's voice inside her room, but she never heard it again. Natasha kept still in her position on the shower floor, hugged her knees to her chest and laid her forehead to rest on her kneecaps. At least one thing felt good, and that was the cold water raining down on her.

She definitely didn't remember falling back to sleep like that, not until a pair of hands on her shoulders shook her back into a state of awareness. That itself was enough to put her on the defensive, and the intruder must have noticed.

"Natasha..." and she was pretty damn sure that was Bruce, so she opened one eye to look. Sure enough, she was right, Bruce was half leaning into the shower and looking more than a little worried. "I—you left the door open," he informed her, as though she would actually care one way or the other or how he got in her bathroom.

"Mm... and that explains why you're in my shower?" she mumbled out.

"I uh—I waited a while outside, but then I said your name a few times and you n—never answered..."

"Chicks dig guys who stutter in their shower," she mumbled out next. She opened her other eye and watched his face turn red, and if she could manage to find the energy, she might have actually smirked at the sight.

Bruce looked more than a little uncomfortable, "Might stutter less if you moved the knife..."

She glanced at her hand and sure enough, she was pointing a knife at his neck, so she tossed it aside, "Sorry."

"Er...it's fine," he assured her. "You brought your knife into the shower?"

Natasha rested the back of her head against the wall in the shower, "Old habits." And she supposed that about summed up how she felt about the people she had been around most her of life up until this point. She gave him the dirtiest look she could manage when he turned the water off. "What the hell did you do that for?" she growled out.

"One, you're shivering," came his admonished tone. "Two, cold water doesn't help, it makes it worse," he informed her. She frowned at him when he pulled her off the wall a bit and started tugging a towel around her, "Come on, get up."

"I'm fine right here."

She could actually feel the frustration coming off him in waves and she rubbed at her temples and then her eyes to try and make the pressure go away. Then she heard him huff out what she assumed was a sigh before his footsteps retreated from the bathroom. For about ten minutes she thought she won the war until he came shuffling back in with a pair of his own sweatpants and one of his own shirts, "I wasn't about to dig through your drawers, and you can't stay in those clothes."

"And whose going to force me to change, Doc, you?"

"Natasha... would you please just get up?"

Quite frankly, she really didn't want to but she did it anyways, just out of pity for him if nothing else. It was only when she was on her feet on on the actual bathroom floor that she saw herself in the mirror, and she was pretty sure she looked about as atrocious as she felt. Bruce had been putting it mildly when he told her she was shivering. Looking at herself in the mirror, towel wrapped around her, she was shaking and her teeth were chattering a little.

And of course, Bruce set the clothes down on the sink and stepped out of the bathroom. It took more effort than it probably should, but she dropped the towel and managed to shimmy out of the tank top and shorts that were practically stuck to her body. Normally she was finicky about cleaning up, but she couldn't find it in her to care as she tossed the sopping heap of clothing down with the towel and tugged on the too large sweatpants and the button up shirt. And did he really need to choose one with buttons?

The only reason he was even alerted to her presence outside the bathroom was because she wound up being unable to stop the sniffle that made its way from her nose. Stubborn pride had her looking anywhere except for at him and she hugged her arms around herself to try and draw in some form of warmth. Now she was back to cold again and the switches were really beginning to grate on her nerves.

"You look...awful."

"Gee, thanks," her voice was a little hoarse now. She knew it was coming, but even so, she winced when the cough racked through her body. Her entire chest ached with it and Bruce's frustration with her earlier refusal to move seemed to evaporate in an instant.

"Come on," and she really just wanted to smack his hand away when it tugged her arm and he pulled her forward, but she just didn't have it in her.

Natasha was going to torture Clint for this, because there was nothing quite as embarrassing as being shoved into her own bed by Bruce Banner. She got under the covers without a word and tugged the pillow over her heard, determined to pretend that none of this was actually happening. She was pretty sure that Bruce had decided to leave her be now that she was back in the bed.

She was right, and she noted that the clock no longer said 1:02am and instead said 8:54am, when she heard his voice again.

"Natasha."

Not a chance in hell was she going to deal with this again, and instead she tried to pull the pillow tighter over her head. She was also pretty sure Bruce was rolling his eyes at her right about now.

"You need to eat something, and drink something."

And she was still pretty determined to pretend he wasn't actually there. That became impossible the moment he promptly removed the pillow from her head and sat on the edge of the bed. She gave him her best death glare when she finally managed to turn her head in his direction.

Also, not effective. Bruce actually smiled a little sheepishly, "Yeah... that look isn't so scary when your nose looks like Rudolph and your eyes are all puffy, plus, you're pretty much cocooned inside your blanket right now."

"There's also a gun under my pillow," she managed to croak out. And holy hell, she sounded like shit, even to her own ears.

"Good to know," and the fact that he doesn't sound the least bit alarmed by that told her a lot. She must have really looked like crap.

Natasha could barely breathe when she finally decided to try and get herself into a sitting position. It took far too much effort, and now she knew what Bruce meant with the cocoon comment. She quite literally had the blanket wrapped around her at least twice, one foot hung out the end and then the blanket wrapped around the rest of that leg too. She huffed out a breath, coughed, and pulled the stolen pillow back over her head when she gave up the feat of sitting up.

And she was pretty sure Bruce let out a rather foul expletive in response to that before he followed it up with that pitiable tone from the night before, "Please?"

No way was she going to let that work on her again, "Go away, Bruce."

It seemed Bruce wasn't going to do any such thing, because the pillow got removed again and tossed onto the floor. "Much as I'd love to keep up this pillow fight, I don't have the energy..." she finally grumbled out. She did shoot a dirty look to him when he pulled her into a sitting position and this time he actually did look a little nervous. It took a minute to untangle the mess she made of the blanket from around her, but when she did, she eyed the bowl of soup that Bruce held out to her. "Why exactly are you doing this?" she finally dared to ask.

"Because you won't..."

The way he said it made it sound like the most obvious answer in the world and she frowned a little, "So you took it upon yourself?"

"We're friends, pretty sure friends do that." That sort of destroyed her rather mediocre fight that she had been putting up against his help and she took the offered bowl of soup in silence. She supposed this was the tug-o-war game that Tony had mentioned to her the prior day, and she was determined not to let the rope go just to let Bruce fall on his ass, again...

She could see the rather amused yet mortified look on his face as he looked at her after she actually took a few spoonfuls of the soup, so she leveled him with a slightly annoyed look, "What?"

And then he looked rather embarrassed about being caught staring, though Natasha's muddled brain couldn't really process why. "Nothing..." he insisted, but she knew better, even his 'nothing' sounded entertained.

It became even more clear that it wasn't nothing, because now he was doing his best not to look at her. She could barely see herself in the mirror that sat over top of the dresser, but at least now she could see what he did. That ridiculous button up shirt of his she was wearing was buttoned up completely ass-backwards. She looked like an imbecile.

Bruce was still chuckling.

"Shut up, Bruce..."

Apparently, that just made the whole thing funnier, because he laughed just a little harder. That was about all she could handle of this 'friendship' and she put the soup on the end table before her fingers fumbled with the buttons of the shirt. Because now was a certainly a good time to be vain about her appearances, what with her 'Rudolph nose and puffy eyes'.

"What are you—oh boy..." she barely managed to hide the smirk when he quickly averted his gaze as she re-buttoned the shirt. Bruce cleared his throat, "Next time... no button-ups."

"Good plan," she agreed. "So, I ate some of your soup. Can I go back to sleep now?" She sighed when he held the glass of water out to her, but accepted it nonetheless, "You're a pushy friend, anyone ever told you that?"

He gave a rather coy smile, something she had never actually expected to see on Bruce himself, "So are you." She actually choked on the water and coughed out what was supposed to be laugh. That, of course, ruined the lighter moment because it turned into a fit of coughs that she couldn't quite get a handle on. "Lay down," Bruce's voice ordered softly through it. The urge to trounce him for giving her an order came back fairly quickly, but then she figured that bringing out the Big Guy was a bad idea, since he was probably still pissed that she sneezed on him.

Besides, she was supposed to stop pushing him away. "Pillow," she finally grumbled out. She watched him awkwardly get off the bed and retrieve the pillow he had stolen and tossed aside earlier. She took a sip of the water, then traded it for the pillow, and a second later she rolled over and put the pillow back over her head.

Natasha needed to hide, because admittedly, this was just downright shameful. She wasn't trained for this, she wasn't trained to be someone's friend, and she certainly wasn't trained to be taken care of. That wasn't really the thing to hide from most though, the worst part was, she was acting like Clint. That was downright terrifying in its own way.

Bruce gave her a few hours before he dared to go back into the lion's den. He was well aware she wasn't happy with him intruding on her like he was and he hadn't initially planned to do it. She just looked horrible huddled into a ball in that shower, shivering with her teeth chattering, and sleeping. He couldn't imagine how tired you had to be to fall asleep with ice cold water raining down on you, but exhausted probably didn't quite cut it.

He had to give Natasha credit though. She was trying her hardest not to follow all her instincts, minus the knife incident, and she was doing her best not to push him away. She was being mildly frustrating in that horrible patient sort of way, but she wasn't completely shoving him out like he expected her to. Plus, her mask was pretty bad when she was sick it seemed, because there were quite a number of times where he thought she might actually hit him.

He was going to give her until dinner time before he intruded again, just to give her that much needed space she craved, but Jarvis changed his mind on that immediately mid-afternoon.

"Doctor Banner, Miss Romanoff's temperature appears to have gone up."

"Gone up to what?"

"Yesterday afternoon it was 102.7 degrees Fahrenheit. My scans read that her current temperature is now 104.1 degrees."

And that certainly wasn't good. Bruce made his way towards her room and he actually groaned when he heard the shower going. He knocked, got no reply, and entered without a second thought. It was hard to forget not going straight in last time, this time though, he watched the steam pouring out from the bathroom and his frown grew tenfold. "Natasha?"

Nothing.

He was just outside the bathroom now, and once again, she had the door opened. It was almost exactly the same as he had found her last time, the only difference being the water temperature. And she was clothed, again, sitting under the scalding spray. If he thought she looked awful this morning, now she just looked like death. "Natasha," he tried again. She didn't answer and for half a second he was afraid she really might actually be dead. He was just reaching out to her when she jolted from his hands, and he half-expected the knife to make a reappearance.

And the water was more than just scalding. He turned it off in an instant and watched her teeth chatter almost instantly.

"S'cold..."

"It's not," he assured her, crouching down to get level with her. "It's just the fever, Natasha. You'll only make it worse with the water that hot..." From the mess she looked like now, he had to hazard a guess that the Black Widow didn't typically get sick, or at least, not on a level that affected her so much. The less you got sick, the worse your immune system... "Alright... come on, up and out of there," he told her, once again trying to put a towel around her.

He didn't win this time. She swatted his hands away.

"You're only going to make it worse," he tried to tell her again. "You can't sit in wet clothes—" and he paused when her finger pointed up to the sink. He raised an eyebrow up at the sweater and sweatpants she had folded up, "Oh good... at least you prepared ahead for your dysfunctional way of coping with the flu," he quipped dryly. She was going to give herself pneumonia at the rate she was going, "Natasha, are you really going to make me drag you out of the shower?"

"Try it..."

And really, the dare shouldn't have been so downright intimidating when it came from a woman huddled on the floor of her shower, but the way she said it actually gave him the chills. Natasha didn't look at all thrilled when he fully stepped into the shower and took a rather uncomfortable seat next to her, "Guess you don't do sick very well, huh?"

"Clearly..." she mumbled out.

"Natasha—"

"Just gimme a minute..." came her muttered response. Bruce felt his brow wrinkle at that and he was determined not to shy away when her head lolled over onto his shoulder. This was about as uncomfortable as things could possibly get for him. At least until he realized in that second that her breathing had evened out and her arm tucked around his chest. "Oh no..." oh yes, Natasha was asleep again.

Saying her name didn't wake her up. Shaking her didn't do it either. Natasha Romanoff was out cold.

Bruce certainly wasn't equipped to handle this.

"Should I call for Miss Potts, Doctor Banner?"

As if this wasn't already awkward enough, "N-no... it's fine..." after all, she tended to get half-naked in front of him all the time anyways, and it wasn't like he hadn't had to strip her to tend to her wounds after Samara.

"Very well, Doctor."

But this was a whole new playing field. "Shit..."

Too tired for much else, so I'll just end it with another, ta-daaah! Anywho, more madness to ensue next chapter.