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Honestly, I hadn't wanted to actually sleep, not until I had gotten more information on where I was and on who Pepper and the man were. I wanted to at least have a semblance of an idea on whether or not I could trust them. The Gate had a sick sense of humour and I wouldn't put it past It to make my life even more difficult by tossing me with enemies.

However, the moment I flopped onto the bed to act as if I was going to rest for Pepper's sake, well…

I was out cold.

Completely, one hundred percent, asleep.

Not my proudest moment, I had to admit…

I awoke with a start who knew how long afterwards. It had to be many hours later because it was dark outside, very dark if the black expanse beyond the wall to wall windows was any indication. I squinted, trying to remember where there had been… I faintly saw an outline of a lamp and fumbled around until I finally managed to open it.

I breathed deeply, waiting for my eyes to adjust as I pulled out my pocket watch, opening it out of habit but… I never set it to whatever time it had been when I had arrived. It was useless. I looked around the room but I didn't see a clock anywhere. Well that's just great…

I swung my legs off the side of the bed, studying the room once more before spotting a dresser with some clothes placed on top of it. Those couldn't be for me.

Could they?

I slowly pushed myself up and made my way to the clothes, lifting the pieces and –

"Miss Potts took the liberty of purchasing some articles of clothing for you. They should fit, I provided the measurements."

I must not have been completely awake because I jerked badly at that sudden voice, knocking into the dresser, hard, and tripping to the floor. This just wasn't my day it seemed…

I leaned my back against the dresser as I scanned the room, searching for the owner of that voice. Wasn't it the same one from the basement? It had the same metallic sound to it. But where was he? I hadn't seen him downstairs, much less now in this bedroom.

"If you are looking for a person, you will not find one," said the voice and I grew even wearier of it. Could they read minds in the future? "I am an A.I., I mainly run this house."

"A.I.?" I repeated, confused.

"Artificial Intelligence."

That didn't exactly answer my question but at least it let me know that the voice was somewhat sentient. Maybe… maybe I could get some answers from him?

"Alright," I began slowly, pushing myself back up, "so, does that mean you can at least tell me what time it is?"

"It is currently 3:46 in the morning. You have been asleep for over 11 hours."

I blinked in surprise. Over ELEVEN hours? I hadn't slept that long since… I sighed, leaning against the dresser. Since Amestris… I patted my coat pocket, checking once more to make sure my journal was still on me. I at least could possibly find a way for to Amestris.

However, there was no way I would be able to get back to 1945. Crossing dimensions may be possible but I wouldn't know the first thing to research to even attempt time travel. Alchemy allows for many possibilities but I didn't think time manipulation was one of them…

"If you'd permit," began the voice, pulling me from my thoughts, "how would you prefer to be addressed?"

"Uh… Ed is fine. What should I call you?" I answered, actually getting used to communicating with the voice.

The mental image I made for him probably helped as well: I pictured him as a soul that was bounded with the house. That at least I could understand, unlike 'artificial intelligence'… Whatever that was.

"My name is Jarvis but I was referring to your preferred honorific," he – I decided to refer to the voice as him since it sounded male – elaborated. However, I was confused by the question and the term used. He must have somehow saw it in my expression because he continued, "Miss or Mr.?"

My eyes widened at that, the question on how he even saw the expressions flying out the window. "How…?"

"A biometric scan allowed me to confirm that you are female. However, from records and from your choice of attire, I concluded you prefer to be male. So, shall I refer to you as Mr. Elric?"

"Definitely not Mr. Elric," I replied with a quick shake of my head. "Just Ed is fine."

"And pronouns? When I refer to you to others?"

I paused, thinking it over. Would I need to hide here as well? Was there a need to do so? Before I could make up my mind, Jarvis provided a solution. "May I suggest I refer to you depending how you've decided to present yourself? Whether you are dressed in male or female clothing?"

I nodded, thinking it over. "For now, that could work." I glanced at the clothes Pepper had gotten, going through them once more. "Just to be clear, these are male clothes?"

"That is correct."

So that means… "Pepper doesn't know?"

"Nobody apart from myself."

"Let's keep it that way for now, alright, Jarvis?"

"For now."

I paused, glancing towards the ceiling. "Are you going to go share all this information with that man?" I asked. If this house belonged to that man and Jarvis ran this house, then… Jarvis was probably loyal to him.

"Not unless specifically asked," he replied, confirming my thoughts.

"Great, just great," I huffed, going back to the clothes.

"Specifically, on whether you were male or female. I do not think Sir would ask that."

I glanced at the ceiling once more, appreciating the loophole Jarvis created. That could work.

"There is a bathroom connected to this room if you wish to freshen up," he said and I glanced around, finally noticing the other door. "If there is anything else you require, let me know."

Anything else…? There had been something that I had been avoiding, especially considering I hadn't been getting straight answers from the owner of this house. With Jarvis, however, he at least had been forthcoming with information.

Maybe…

"Can – can you tell me what happened to… to Steve and the others?" I whispered, looking up at the ceiling, holding my breath.

"To Captain Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos?" clarified Jarvis and I shakily nodded.

Sixty years. It had been over 60 years… Maybe they were…?

I jumped as images began appearing on the windows, agglomerations of files and pictures of every Howling Commando. They covered nearly all the glass. I stared at them, not really reading them just yet. I couldn't move. I wanted to know but, at the same time, I was scared of the answers.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the images so I took a deep breath. And then another.

I couldn't keep avoiding it. I needed to know what happened to them.

I slowly made my way towards the windows, my gaze fixed on the closest one, the file on Dum Dum. There was an official picture of him with his information while several other pictures were placed around. I forced myself to go through each line one by one to – to…

Those dates.

He – he's gone… Dum Dum passed away…

I sucked in a breath, staring at his picture. I – I had JUST seen him. He had been at the Hydra base with the rest of us. He had made that stupid joke on the airplane on our way there to distract me from my fear of flying.

And now… He's gone.

I barely moved my head and yet the next batch of images moved closer all by themselves. Jim.

He's gone too…

Dum Dum. Jim. Jones. Monty. Dernier. All of them were gone.

And… Bucky.

I fell to my knees when his image came up and for some god-awful reason, they moved with me, staying at eye level. His face just stared back at me and – and…

I started crying. I hadn't cried since I had arrived, since being thrown decades into the future, away from everyone. But, seeing Bucky, seeing his face brought everything back, reminding all too much of everything that I kept losing, of all the people I've let down.

"I'm sorry, Bucky," I whispered, wiping away some tears. Didn't matter all too much since more kept falling. "I'm so sorry…"

Turning my head just enough was all that was needed to bring the next file closer.

Steve.

That was Steve's file. I had JUST seen him! That fight with Schmidt, the airplane, it happened YESTERDAY but it seemed so far away.

I quickly scanned the information, holding my breath and on the little hope I had that…

MIA.

He went missing the day of the attack.

Steve truly did sacrifice himself to destroy that airplane and the weapons on it. And, even if Steve had managed to give the coordinates and heading to the S.S.R., they hadn't found him.

I punched the floor, cursing out Schmidt. If he hadn't broken my automail, I would have been able to take the airplane down! They probably would have found Steve!

All this would NOT have happened! I wouldn't be in an even bigger mess than I already had been.

And Steve…

I turned back to the pictures of him on the window. Most were of him in his Captain America outfit. But one in particular, he was in civilian clothes. That was how I knew him, I remembered him. Yes, he was Captain America to so many people but… to me, he was still Steve Rogers, the guy from Brooklyn, the one that trusted me from the very beginning. And how did I repay him? By letting him fly that airplane into the ocean. Alone.

If I had just insisted, if my arm hadn't been broken, then Steve would have survived. He would have been able to live a life, be with Peggy.

Peggy. Peggy. Peggy.

My gaze landed on Howard's file first and I stopped, squinting at the lines to try –

The file came closer by itself. I scanned it and… I shouldn't have been surprised but it… it still hurt that he was gone too.

I massaged my face, breathing deeply.

It hurt and… it was all hard to process. I had JUST seen them. Every single one of them and yet now I needed to –

Wait.

I caught sight of my name in Howard's file. Well, the name 'Edward'. Why…? Anthony Edward Stark. That was the name of – of Howard's son.

You better not have done that on my account, Howard. I was close to him but not to THAT point. No, it must be a coincidence, maybe his wife. Wow, he had finally settled down too? But the name must have been her idea.

I shook my head. It didn't matter. It's not like I was going to go searching for Howard's son. What would I tell him? Would tell any of the families of the Howling Commandos? As if any of them would believe me anyway…

Peggy. I refocused. What about Peggy?

Her file was nearby and, like all the others, it moved in front of me by itself. I took a deep breath, bracing myself. Okay, so what was –?

ALIVE?!

Peggy was – was still alive?!

My heart was hammering in my chest. Alive. She's – she's the only one but, at least there was SOMEONE that I knew! My eyes had been reading through the file but nothing was registering, my mind going through so many questions, possibilities, and –

It clicked then. She was in her 80s. Peggy was well in her 80s.

She was lived her life. Would she even remember me? Would she even want to see me? It had been so long and… and I couldn't save the man she loved.

Would she blame me…?

But… "Where – where does she live?" I managed to ask, my voice low and hoarse.

A location appeared on the window with an address in Washington D.C. My stomach knotted upon seeing that. If I remembered US geography, California is on the West coast and Washington D.C….

"How far from here?"

A line was drawn across a map of the continental US with a number in miles written over it. I hated being right sometimes. The distance was ridiculously far. There was no way I was going to make it all the way there, not on my own.

I leaned back against the bed, pulling my legs close as I stared at the files on the windows.

There was so much to process and yet, not much of any of it felt real… Part of me didn't want to believe that they were gone. Could I even trust what Jarvis showed me was correct or not? He hadn't lied to me and had agreed to keep the owner of this house in the dark about my gender but… Would he truly?

I breathed deeply not liking the situation.

Why would he lie to me, though? What did he have to gain from that? Part of me also began to doubt whether it truly was 2009 now or not. They could have lied to me about that. The man could have been a good actor. Pepper may have been in on it.

But…

But everything in that basement… What I remembered seeing was much more sophisticated than anything I had ever seen in 1945. Then, I could actually be in the future…

And that meant that – that what I had read could actually be true.

This was just so confusing…

I sat there, staring and staring, trying to figure out what could I do now, what to believe.

There were so many options but I felt like I didn't have all the pieces to the puzzle.

A puzzle I had never faced before.

The last time the Gate dumped me somewhere, I had someone who knew about me, who seemed to actually like me. This time…

Pepper tolerated me at best while the man seemed to want me out of his house and out of his life for good.

I sat there for what felt like hours which, to be fair, was if the sunrise was any indication. I didn't see the sun itself but the light illuminated what lay beyond the windows and…

I hadn't realized the house was RIGHT on the ocean.

Well, at least I had a nice view. That was at least one positive thing about the situation…

I sighed heavily, leaning my head back against the bed and massaging my face. I couldn't just sit there forever… I lowered my hand and glanced around the room, wondering what my next move would be. That was when I spotted the clothes on the dresser.

Shower.

A shower and getting out of these clothes sounded like a good start. Using the bed as support, I managed to pull myself up, shaking my right leg to get the circulation flowing once more.

Jarvis had said there was a bathroom attached to the room so I grabbed the clothes and hobbled in the direction of the door I guessed led to said bathroom.

Holy fuck…

I should have expected a more modern room but it still hit me upon seeing how elaborate and yet… how empty the area was. I began wondering if that man actually lived in this house or not: there was no sign of anything personal anywhere around here.

I pushed the door shut with my foot, dumping the clothes on the counter and began my sad attempt at removing the clothes on my back. It was one thing to be missing an arm but having one that hung uselessly on my side only managed to get in the way.

By the time I managed to get my undershirt off. I was huffing and I threw the pieces of clothing against the wall in frustration. Schmidt just had to go break my arm, didn't he?

I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror and slowly walked closer, eyeing my automail specifically. Even though it didn't look as damaged as it had been following my first fight with Greed, it was still useless… It was clearly broken at the elbow, the metal folded in some places as torn wires poked out of the joint. But... That didn't exactly explain why I couldn't move it. Frowning, I lifted my arm to check underneath, at the shoulder.

Well, there was the reason…

Some wires had torn there as well and even the top plate of metal was badly bent. Hence the useless arm… Real asshole. It must have been possible because of the super soldier serum. It was the only way he would have been able to break it that badly...

Great. Just fucking great.

I finally stopped looking at my automail, letting the arm drop back against my side, and I instead focused on the bruises that littered the rest of my body.

No wonder I had been in so much pain...

The question became though, what had the Gate done to me? If over 60 years had passed, why am I still young? Why are my injuries from the fight with the Red Skull still present? Had I been in a stasis for that long?

And why the fuck was I even here to begin with?!

None of this made any sense and, considering the Gate hadn't told that man anything when I had arrived, I was even more in the dark on my being there then I had been in the 1940s.

Fucking Gate...

Wait a minute.

The Gate...

An idea came to mind. I had crossed the Gate again. I had seen it. Maybe...

I brought my left hand to my automail one, pressing them together as I held my breath.

Nothing.

I didn't feel any alchemic energy.

But...

I still touched the mirror, making sure but nothing changed. I still couldn't use my alchemy. Fucking great... Of course, it would have been too good to be true.

I took one last look at my automail, at how damaged it was before sighing heavily and turning heel, heading towards the shower. Maybe that will help clear my head so I could come up with a course of action for sorting through this mess.

Once I was actually in the shower though, I realized it really wasn't going to help me think of anything… My focus was once again on my automail but it was the fact that it was hanging uselessly on my side and I needed to remember how I had washed myself with only one hand in the past. I had not missed those days and I wasn't in the mood to relive them.

Not to mention all these bottles were such a pain in the ass to open!

When that ridiculous ordeal with the shampoo and soap was done, I needed to take several minutes to just lean my head against the tiled wall and let the hot water pour over me. And breathe, just breathe...

There was no point in going out there frustrated if I was going to continue staying here and even possibly ask that annoyance of a man to fix my automail.

Maybe I should have listened a little more when Mustang had wanted to teach me some diplomacy... It had not helped that he had mentioned my temper in the same conversation and I had stormed out. I knew it only proved his point but I had not wanted to hear him at that time.

I hadn't wanted to hear him a lot thinking about it… Was that regret I was feeling? I didn't want to dwell on that…

With a final huff, I shut the water and got out, already dreading putting on the new set of clothes with my useless arm.

But first...

I searched around the bathroom, finding a first aid kit under the sink along with the bandages I needed inside. I could at least bind my automail so it didn't swing around in awkward angles at the elbow.

Or fall apart even more.

Even when it was wrapped, it was still a struggle to fit my automail through a short-sleeved shirt and sweater – I was so glad Pepper got me a sweater on top of everything else – and I cursed one last time at getting my gloves back on. Damn uncooperative fingers!

With a huff, I left the bathroom and the room itself and began wandering around the house. The still minimalist and void of any personal touches house. Did that man even live here? Did anyone else?

Was that man even awake?

It was all too quiet as I continued on my way through the overly large house until I came across a kitchen. This was the biggest kitchen I had ever seen! There better be more than just that man who lived here! Who would need this much space? And for –

My stomach growled loudly. When had been the last time I had eaten? A long time ago technically but, before we moved out and walked towards the Hydra base. That made it probably close to a day by now, no?

Well, might as well grab something to eat while I was here.

I made a beeline to what I assumed was a more modern and updated refrigerator and opened the door, glancing inside. I blinked, not seeing much and recognizing even less in there.

Ok, how about the cupboards?

Those weren't much better…

I found some sliced bread and settled for that. At least I knew what that was. But now… I turned around, scanning the countertops. That. That must be a toaster. It was much fancier but it should work similarly to what I was used to.

Walking up to it, I studied it for a moment. It should work similarly. What the hell? I inserted the bread and started the machine. Plate. Plate. I went to the cupboards where I vaguely remembered seeing some plates and, after a few tries, pulled one out.

Had there been butter in the fridge? Maybe. It was –

Crap.

I smelt it before I saw it. The toast was burning… I jogged over to the toaster and searched for anyway to stop it, to take the toast out. Come on, it must be one of these damn buttons, no? How about –?

The toast popped and I jumped back, not sure if I had done that or the toaster had decided it burnt the bread enough.

And it was burnt, nearly black all over.

Grumbling, I snatched the toast, tossing the slices on the plate as I searched for a knife. I would just need to scrape some parts off. It should be better after that.

Determined, I went in search of a knife as I filed this incident with all the others that differentiate 2009 with 1945 and even Amestris.

I almost patted the pocket I normally kept my journal in before remembering that I had left it in the room, under the mattress. For some reason, people apparently didn't need as big of pockets in the future because my small journal didn't fit in said pockets, not like it had in the ones of my red coat.

I finally found a butter knife and began the annoying job of scraping the toast with only one hand. I was almost tempted to flop my automail hand on the toast to keep I steady, to make at least some use of that damned –

"You burnt toast?"

I jumped, whirling around and pointing the knife at… at the man from yesterday. I must not have heard him come in because of my damn scraping… He raised an eyebrow as well as his hands, tilting his head to the side. "Not a good idea to give me a reason to kick you out. Drop the butter knife, will ya?"

I frowned, eyeing him for a minute before lowering the knife. "Like you weren't already planning on kicking me out anyway," I grumbled, going back to my toast.

I faintly heard the man move behind me over the scraping but my focus was on the task I was doing. I didn't need to get myself irritated this early in the morning.

"Couldn't figure out you can make another one?" he asked and I stopped, glancing back at him with a frown.

"And do what with this one? Throw it out? I won't waste food for no good reason." I even added to my point by taking a large bite of the toast I had been working on.

He just rolled his eyes and kept walking, probably going to go get his own breakfast so I returned to my still burnt toast. What followed was just tense, awkward silence as we each did our own thing.

Apparently, his breakfast consisted of only coffee.

All while trying to catch a glimpse of my automail arm.

I had caught him glancing at it, as he tried to be discreet but he looked away anytime I turned in his direction, even frowning at him after several attempts.

All the while, we stayed quiet and I kept busy with the toast, trying to ignore his stares. However, when I didn't have anymore dry toast to eat, that was when I couldn't take his sneaky glances and the awkward silence anymore.

"What the fuck is it?" I snapped, whirling around to face him and I caught him lifting his gaze to meet mine. He had been looking at my automail again.

Surprisingly, he didn't seem offended by my tone nor my swearing. "Why is your metal prosthetic nor working now?" he wondered, pointing to my arm with his mug of coffee.

"My what?" I said sharply, playing dumb because I didn't want to him to know about my automail just yet.

"Your arm, your right arm that you haven't used since being unceremoniously dropped in my workshop yesterday. The same arm that you had clearly used in the 40s. So, did it break?"

I stayed quiet, frowning at him as I tried to come up with some type of excuse. Why did Schmidt have to go and break my automail?!

"You can't lie. Firstly, it was broken before you landed in my workshop considering it was bent in a really horrible angle. Secondly, Jarvis already told me that your entire right arm is made of metal, without any organic matter present," explained the man, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. "So, you're going to have to spill the beans."

My frown didn't lessen as I looked up at the ceiling, "Traitor," I mumbled towards Jarvis.

"Sir specifically asked about your arm," he replied matter-of-factly, reminding me of his condition to keeping my gender hidden. If this man asked, Jarvis would share the information.

"Of course, he'd tell me," said the man. "I created Jarvis."

I paused, going back to how I viewed Jarvis, on how he could just be a soul attached to the house. If I was going to keep my view then this man… He would be the one to have attached Jarvis' soul to the house.

Like how I had attached Al's soul to the armour…

I tried to push those thoughts aside as I turned around, reaching for the plate and knife, wanting to wash them on top of distracting myself at the same time. I didn't need to bring in homesickness and Al into my situation on top of everything else…

Sadly, because Jarvis somehow figured out my arm is completely metal. I couldn't just outright lie. I don't think this man would believe that Jarvis made the whole idea up anyway.

But... There was one thing that had been nagging me in the back of my mind since arriving. The Gate possibly wouldn't have done it but, knowing It's horrible sense of humour and how It liked to toy with me…

I needed to make sure.

I dropped the plate and knife in the sink for now before turning around and facing the man, frowning slightly. "How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you're not some Nazi or Hydra scientist? They didn't win the war, did they?" Then something clicked. "Is that why you don't like me?"

"No, the allies won. I don't like you for other reasons," he replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Reasons you won't share, I'm guessing."

"You truly are a prodigy."

"And you truly are an asshole," I snapped back. "If you think that attitude will make me share whatever is going on with my arm with you, you're delusional."

"And if you think you're staying here without sharing what's wrong with said arm, you're the delusional one."

"Asshole," I grumbled.

"Brat," was his quick response.

My frown deepened as I took a deep breath. "You conveniently didn't answer my question."

"You asked a few, short stuff."

My fist clenched but I just managed to articulate, "Nazi or Hydra?"

"Neither," he replied with a shrug. "US citizen that's harbouring a 1940s brat that still inexplicably got dropped in my workshop."

"Why are you being so difficult?"

"You're the one who won't answer the question about your arm."

"Because YOU don't like me for some fucking reason!"

"Hey! Enough, both of you!" Pepper had walked into the kitchen at that point, staring at both of us with wide eyes. "It's much too early to be arguing."

"He started it," replied the man.

"Bullshit! I was getting breakfast!" I cried out, throwing my hand in the air. "You –"

"I said enough!" cut in Pepper sternly. She eyed both of us before shaking her head and sighing. "I swear, children." The man looked ready to protest but Pepper sent him a look and he shut hit mouth. When she was sure he wasn't going to argue, she turned her attention on me, looking at me from head to toe. "It looks like your new clothes fit well."

I noticed the surprised frown on the man before focusing on Pepper. "Yes, thank you for getting them."

"It better not have been on the company card," cut in the man before Pepper could respond. What did he mean by card? On what card? Did it mean something different in the future?

"Don't ask and you won't know," she said with a small smirk.

He didn't look too pleased by that answer as he leaned back against the counter, taking a gulp of his coffee. Pepper just nodded in approval, turning back to me.

"Oh," her gaze had lowered and I grew a little weary on what she was looking at… "you don't need to keep your gloves on here. We're in the summer and, I don't know if it was a customary thing in the 1940s, but now, you don't need to wear them," she explained, motioning to said gloves on my hands and my stomach twisted in a very tight knot.

"Uh… Not customary. Just a personal choice," I replied carefully and I could see, from the corner of my eye, the man send me a disbelieving look.

"Yes, a choice," he put in and I frowned, already knowing what he was going to say, "one to hide the fact that your right arm, the one that you still haven't moved, is made out of metal and is broken."

"Did I mention that you're an asshole?" I asked, trying to ignore Pepper's wide-eyed stare at my right arm.

"I think you've mentioned it," he replied, looking a little too smug.

Oh fuck… Now I understood. He was going to expect Pepper to ask about my arm. And, considering she and I weren't at each others' throats, he probably also expected me to be honest with her. That was a low blow…

"What do you mean his arm is metal?" asked Pepper slowly and I resisted the urge to flip the man off. She waited a moment before turning in his direction, still seeming in disbelief. "Tony, what did you mean by that? Was there a metal attachment? To help him move his arm?"

Tony? Wow… I finally got a name! And he didn't look too pleased that she had called him that either which I took as a small victory in this mess.

"No," he said, motioning to my arm, "I mean that, at some point, that brat lost his arm and it was replaced by a completely metal one."

Pepper gasped, a hand covering her mouth as she stared at my right arm. "Is that true?" was her very soft question.

For the love of…

I sighed heavily, massaging my face with my left hand, trying to decide what to do. Should I tell them? Well, confirm what the man – what Tony already knew? What Jarvis had told him.

"Fine… Fine!" I grumbled, throwing my hand in the air before pointing a finger at Tony. "But I swear, if you even think of taking it, I will shove my foot so far up your ass –"

"Ed," cut in Pepper softly, looking a little displeased by the threat.

"It still stands," I continued. "You. Are. Not. Taking. It."

"Not taking it, fine," he murmured but he still pushed off the counter, taking a step closer.

I put pressure on my forehead, taking a deep breath. I can't believe I was doing this. I just met these people. I hadn't shared my arm with Steve for MONTHS. Bucky even longer. The Howling Commandos had had no idea about for years! And yet, here I was.

Well, at least they didn't know about my leg yet…

"Fine, fine, fine," I mumbled. I bit the fingertips of my left glove and pulled it off before using my left hand to remove the other glove without hesitating. I knew, if I did hesitate, I wouldn't do it.

Even though the arm just flopped back to my side, Pepper and Tony still had a clear view of the metal hand. Pepper covered her mouth, gasping in shock as Tony's eyes widened, taking another step forward.

"How did it happen?"

"Who in the world built that?"

Their questions overlapped and I realized this might be a longer conversation than expected.

Maybe I should have slept longer…

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