Someone on Mark's Side
by Tie-B
Chapter VII
Disclaimer: Aside from the fictional character Dylan, I don't own anything in this fic.
---
"Then you step here, catch the leg as it goes down and then you step forward and push it up," Dylan explained as he pushed Mark's leg up and forward to send him off balance.
Dylan let go of the leg, "Now you try."
He then proceeded to launch a frontal kick with his right leg at Mark, who made a diagonal step with his left leg, avoiding the kick. As Dylan's leg came down, Mark caught it from beneath. He pushed it up and brought his right leg forward in a lunge.
"Good," Dylan seemed impressed, "You know Mark, you're a fast learner."
"Thanks," Mark smiled as he let go of Dylan's foot.
"We'd better get you home. Your parents might be worried," Dylan suggested.
Mark was disappointed. At least part of him was. He didn't want to leave. Dylan was being a great friend and Mark wanted to learn more from him, but he didn't want to dismiss the fact that Jill might let him back in karate class if he explained the bruises on his face and the scratches on his hands.
Mark agreed. Both boys took off their armor and stuffed it back in the box. Their shirts were drenched in the sweat of nearly three hours of practice.
"We should change. It's getting pretty cold outside," Dylan mentioned. Of course, Mark didn't have any spare shirts with him. Dylan would have to let Mark borrow a shirt for today. He remembered having a black shirt too large for his size given to him as a present by his uncle. Mark could use that.
Dylan went up to his room and Mark followed. He searched his closet for the shirt and handed it to Mark, "I think that's about your size. It's your color too."
"Hey, thanks," Mark replied, grateful he didn't have to wear a primary color going back home.
"Go take a shower and put some more antiseptic on your scratches. It's hard to punch with infected palms."
Mark nodded, heeding his advice and went into the bathroom.
Dylan just stood there for a moment, making sure Mark did as he was told. When he heard the water running, he pulled out a dark army green vest from the closet. It had hidden pockets inside made especially for small weapons. In this case, it had nun chucks. Better to be prepared this time. You'll never know whom you'll run into down the street.
Dylan pulled out some more clothes and headed for the showers downstairs to clean up.
---
"...the school should not look at this request for more ergonomically designed chairs and table for the computer labs as an unnecessary..." Lauren dictated her contribution to the article. Randy was typing away, but his heart didn't seem to be set on writing right now.
Lauren saw the glum look on Randy's face and tried to reassure him, "Don't worry Randy. I'm sure Brad will find him." She was referring to Mark. The Net Angel's main e-mail address forwards all mail sent to it to all the Net Angels so they could decide among themselves who would write the response. Randy was one of the Net Angels. He got a copy of a letter, which he knew was Mark's.
Randy typed in Lauren's last statement. He really was lost in thought.
"Randy!"
"Huh, what?" he mumbled as he snapped out of his trance.
Lauren rolled her eyes and smiled. She couldn't help but notice Randy's adorable antics even during such a time. "I said don't worry, Brad will find him."
"I can't help it," Randy groaned, "Thi... This is all my fault. I keep picking on the poor guy! I've spent almost the entire day here thinking and I still can't remember saying anything nice to him in my life!" Randy paused for a breath, "Reading what he wrote to the Net Angels site makes me feel like I want him to punch me again. I didn't even know he felt that way. He's my brother. How can I be so insensitive?"
The letter was so detailed. It recounted the event that started it all, Mark attacking his brothers, as well as what he felt while it happened. It also told of how much Mark hated them. Fragments of Mark's letter burned fresh in Randy's head:
"They've been picking on me ever since I can remember," was the first line that came into mind. Randy couldn't remember when he started teasing and making fun of Mark either. It was just like a routine to him.
"When I was a kid, they didn't like it whenever I wanted to play with them. It was like they hated me like the plague." Randy did avoid Mark like the plague. He remembered his disdain when his mom asked him to take his younger brother to the shoe store. If it weren't for Lauren's consent, Randy would never have agreed to take Mark with them.
"I hate them. I don't want to apologize. I don't care if mom wouldn't let me back in karate class. That kid who beat up Jason, I'll just ask him to teach me," was the scariest part of the letter. Mark wasn't just mad at them. He hated them. In addition to that, Mark wanted to talk to someone who's been rumored to have been kicked out of his old school because of an incident where he nearly killed another student.
Lauren knew the answer to Randy's question, "You've just... lost touch. You keep thinking that hanging out with him makes you look less cool. "
While, Randy considered the thought Lauren fired another question his way: "Does he?"
"Being found in public with someone who looks like he's going to a funeral doesn't really make you look cool," was the best defense Randy could think of.
"Randy, the clothes don't make the person. It's what's inside that counts, and we both know he's really a nice guy."
Lauren was right. Aside from the recent incident, Randy really couldn't remember Mark taking the initiative to perform a hostile act against him or Brad. Mark just lets everything slide, until that night when he couldn't take any more and went berserk.
Randy nodded, "Yeah. He is. The goth look doesn't really reflect what he's like inside... I guess that's another reason why I pick on him."
---
Brad kept driving around in the Nomad searching for Mark. He was going around in circles, yet the kid was nowhere in sight. Brad decided to break his circular route and to check if Mark somehow managed to get back home without being spotted by his older brother.
The Nomad rolled by the Seven Eleven. The fruitless search had tired Brad and he needed a drink. He pulled the car over and walked in the store. Brad was usually calm, but right now, the possibility of Mark being in danger was really getting to him.
Lost in thought, Brad didn't see it until it was too late.
"Hey! Watch it!"
"OW!"
He walked right into someone who was on the way to the exit. Someone familiar.
"A..."
"Bradley!?"
"A...An...Angela?"
Brad and his ex-girlfriend just stared for a moment at each other. Seeing each other again was bringing up dozens of fond memories they shared together. Brad tried to put their relationship behind him and get back to the important matter at hand.
Angela on the other hand, was pretty thrilled to see Brad, but it wasn't because of their relationship but because she also received a copy of the "anonymous" Net Angel letter. Angela was able to figure out it was from Mark Patterson Taylor. Sure Mark sent the letter under an anonymous name, but he forgot to change Brad and Randy's names, which she thought was pretty careless. Another clue was the fact that some of the insults and jeers in the letter were ones Angela has heard only in the Taylor household.
"So, like, what are you doing here?" she asked.
"I'm just going to go get a drink. I could buy you one if you want."
"No thanks. I just stopped by here to pick up some things," she explained as she held up a small plastic bag of assorted chocolate bars.
Angela wanted to bring up the letter, but it was forbidden by the rules. She was more careful now about things that she says even on turbo warp speed speech, so she decided to try and get a helping hand in the issue another way.
"So, how're your brothers, Mark and Randy?"
"Randy's in the hospital for some broken ribs. He'll be out in a day or two. Mark is... missing. Have you seen him?"
The situation was worse than Angela thought. A simple Net Angel letter wouldn't be enough help for this problem.
"No, I haven't seen him. How long has he been missing? Is he in trouble? I could, like, help you look for him if you want."
"Thanks Angela. I've been looking all day and I think I could use all the help I can get." Brad had gotten used to Angela's rapid fire, but the Seven Eleven clerk on the other hand gave her an odd look.
---
Dylan walked Mark home just to make sure he wouldn't run into more trouble with the three drunks they dealt with earlier. He was wearing the vest and where he had his weapon safely tucked inside. Even Mark didn't know about it.
"Dylan?" he heard the taller kid's voice.
"Yeah?"
"How'd you get so good at fighting?"
Dylan found the question a bit funny. He didn't think of himself as a good fighter. He just loved martial arts. It was a hobby that doubled as something for his own protection. He had always used it for self-defense, except for that incident that got him booted out. That was the only time he used it for revenge.
"It's not fighting, it's martial arts," he corrected, "I just enjoy what I do. I also used to practice a lot with my brother."
Dylan's brother was gone now. Mark figured that Dylan was eager to teach him karate in hopes that he'll have someone to practice with. Mark slightly felt that he was being used, but then again, he wanted to be taught anyway. It was a win-win situation.
"Hey, we could practice together again sometime," he offered. Dylan just nodded in response.
The sky was getting a bit dark. The two were already nearly halfway to the Taylor home and so far, they haven't been intercepted by any drunks, punks or whatsoever. Dylan wasn't about to let his guard down though. Paranoia is often the best defense.
"Why was Jason mad at you anyway?"
"On my first day in Lakeside, I saw Jason smoking crack in the bathroom."
Crack? Mark remembered that time Brad was caught keeping drugs in the yard. Maybe he was keeping them for Jason?
"Then what?"
"I told his girlfriend," Dylan managed to say with a grin, "A girl with a bright future like Jessica shouldn't hang out with a loser like Jason."
Mark was stunned. Dylan clearly liked meddling at things he knew he could set straight.
The feeling of something whipping against his leg made Mark look down at his feet. His shoelace was undone. He simply bent down to tie it up. Dylan stopped to wait for him to finish. As Mark got back up, he noticed something in Dylan's vest.
"What's that?"
Dylan pulled out the nun chucks, "Just something I brought in case we attract more trouble."
Mark's eyes widened and a smile appeared on his face, "Wow! You actually use those?"
Dylan nodded and did a short demonstration. Nothing fancy, just a few loops and back.
"You think you could teach me some of that sometime?"
"Yeah. You could borrow these for practice if you want to," Dylan said, handing the weapon to Mark.
"Cool! Thanks."
Dylan stepped back a few paces as Mark started flailing the weapon around, trying to imitate Dylan's demo.
"You may want to be a bit careful with that..." Dylan cringed as Mark hit himself in the head.
"Owww!" Mark groaned as he clutched his head. He looked so much like the Tool Man when he hits his head.
"Are... you okay?"
"Yeah... I'm fine," Mark handed the nun chucks back while still clutching his head with his other hand.
Mark continued to walk while rubbing his head. The pair rounded the corner and passed the Seven Eleven where a familiar voice boomed at them, "Mark! Get away from him!" That's when Dylan felt something ram into him. Something big and solid.
Brad's tackle knocked the small Dylan down to the floor. Mark turned around and was surprised to see Brad rush at him and grab his arm, "Come on man! Let's get out of here." Brad pulled his youngest brother up to the Nomad, where Angela was waiting for them in the driver's seat. She hit the gas as soon as Brad and Mark got inside and slammed the door.
Dylan got up in time to see Brad drag Mark into the car, before the Nomad careened down the street. He was taken by surprise, and he just stood there wondering what that was all about.
Thinking about it, he realized that Brad must have been standing in the Seven Eleven when he saw Mark, bruised and clutching his head pass by. Then Brad saw him, Dylan Hunter, famous for getting booted out of school for nearly killing another student, holding a pair of nun chucks in his hand, following Mark.
Dylan managed to laugh at the whole misunderstood situation and forgave Brad's rude tackle. Dylan understood that Brad was just protecting Mark like a big brother should.
Dylan sighed. He stuffed the nun chucks back in his vest and started back home.
---
Angela could drive as fast as she talks. The Nomad was in the Taylor garage in absolutely no time at all.
Mark got out of the car and entered the house, Brad and Angela following behind him. Mark abruptly turned around and yelled at Brad, "What the hell was that all about?!"
"Woah! Easy! I just saved your life back there," Brad arrogantly explained.
Mark was dumbfounded. "Save my life? From what?!"
"From Dylan Hunter."
Mark was even more confused now. "What are you talking about? Dylan's my friend."
"If he's your friend, then why do you have that bruise on your face?"
Mark finally understood that Brad thought Dylan was beating Mark up. "He didn't do this! I was beat up by some drunks on the way to school and he helped me! I can't believe you would accuse someone like that!"
Angela cut in, "Mark, listen: Dylan Hunter was kicked out of his old school because he like, nearly killed another student in a fight. The guy was like, sent to the emergency room. Brad was just trying to help you back there because he thought you were like, in trouble."
Mark had a hard time to take in the information about his friend. It turned out that Dylan was actually hiding something from him. Still, that didn't give Brad any right to mess with Mark's social life by knocking down his friends and pulling him out of their company. Angrily, Mark turned to Brad and yelled, "I can't believe you! You assume too much! I can't believe I'm actually related to someone as stupid as you!"
Brad had pretty much ruined Mark's day. Mark quickly headed upstairs before anyone could say anything.
Angela and Brad looked at each other. They couldn't believe it. Instead of setting things right, they ended up doing more damage.
---
You really didn't think I was going to let this end with a simple apology did you?
"Empires rise and fall, but evil is eternal."
.:Brad and Randy shoot a bad look at Tie-B, Mark gives a "huh?" look while Lauren slaps her forehead:.
No wait, wrong quote.
...
Ah screw it.
by Tie-B
Chapter VII
Disclaimer: Aside from the fictional character Dylan, I don't own anything in this fic.
---
"Then you step here, catch the leg as it goes down and then you step forward and push it up," Dylan explained as he pushed Mark's leg up and forward to send him off balance.
Dylan let go of the leg, "Now you try."
He then proceeded to launch a frontal kick with his right leg at Mark, who made a diagonal step with his left leg, avoiding the kick. As Dylan's leg came down, Mark caught it from beneath. He pushed it up and brought his right leg forward in a lunge.
"Good," Dylan seemed impressed, "You know Mark, you're a fast learner."
"Thanks," Mark smiled as he let go of Dylan's foot.
"We'd better get you home. Your parents might be worried," Dylan suggested.
Mark was disappointed. At least part of him was. He didn't want to leave. Dylan was being a great friend and Mark wanted to learn more from him, but he didn't want to dismiss the fact that Jill might let him back in karate class if he explained the bruises on his face and the scratches on his hands.
Mark agreed. Both boys took off their armor and stuffed it back in the box. Their shirts were drenched in the sweat of nearly three hours of practice.
"We should change. It's getting pretty cold outside," Dylan mentioned. Of course, Mark didn't have any spare shirts with him. Dylan would have to let Mark borrow a shirt for today. He remembered having a black shirt too large for his size given to him as a present by his uncle. Mark could use that.
Dylan went up to his room and Mark followed. He searched his closet for the shirt and handed it to Mark, "I think that's about your size. It's your color too."
"Hey, thanks," Mark replied, grateful he didn't have to wear a primary color going back home.
"Go take a shower and put some more antiseptic on your scratches. It's hard to punch with infected palms."
Mark nodded, heeding his advice and went into the bathroom.
Dylan just stood there for a moment, making sure Mark did as he was told. When he heard the water running, he pulled out a dark army green vest from the closet. It had hidden pockets inside made especially for small weapons. In this case, it had nun chucks. Better to be prepared this time. You'll never know whom you'll run into down the street.
Dylan pulled out some more clothes and headed for the showers downstairs to clean up.
---
"...the school should not look at this request for more ergonomically designed chairs and table for the computer labs as an unnecessary..." Lauren dictated her contribution to the article. Randy was typing away, but his heart didn't seem to be set on writing right now.
Lauren saw the glum look on Randy's face and tried to reassure him, "Don't worry Randy. I'm sure Brad will find him." She was referring to Mark. The Net Angel's main e-mail address forwards all mail sent to it to all the Net Angels so they could decide among themselves who would write the response. Randy was one of the Net Angels. He got a copy of a letter, which he knew was Mark's.
Randy typed in Lauren's last statement. He really was lost in thought.
"Randy!"
"Huh, what?" he mumbled as he snapped out of his trance.
Lauren rolled her eyes and smiled. She couldn't help but notice Randy's adorable antics even during such a time. "I said don't worry, Brad will find him."
"I can't help it," Randy groaned, "Thi... This is all my fault. I keep picking on the poor guy! I've spent almost the entire day here thinking and I still can't remember saying anything nice to him in my life!" Randy paused for a breath, "Reading what he wrote to the Net Angels site makes me feel like I want him to punch me again. I didn't even know he felt that way. He's my brother. How can I be so insensitive?"
The letter was so detailed. It recounted the event that started it all, Mark attacking his brothers, as well as what he felt while it happened. It also told of how much Mark hated them. Fragments of Mark's letter burned fresh in Randy's head:
"They've been picking on me ever since I can remember," was the first line that came into mind. Randy couldn't remember when he started teasing and making fun of Mark either. It was just like a routine to him.
"When I was a kid, they didn't like it whenever I wanted to play with them. It was like they hated me like the plague." Randy did avoid Mark like the plague. He remembered his disdain when his mom asked him to take his younger brother to the shoe store. If it weren't for Lauren's consent, Randy would never have agreed to take Mark with them.
"I hate them. I don't want to apologize. I don't care if mom wouldn't let me back in karate class. That kid who beat up Jason, I'll just ask him to teach me," was the scariest part of the letter. Mark wasn't just mad at them. He hated them. In addition to that, Mark wanted to talk to someone who's been rumored to have been kicked out of his old school because of an incident where he nearly killed another student.
Lauren knew the answer to Randy's question, "You've just... lost touch. You keep thinking that hanging out with him makes you look less cool. "
While, Randy considered the thought Lauren fired another question his way: "Does he?"
"Being found in public with someone who looks like he's going to a funeral doesn't really make you look cool," was the best defense Randy could think of.
"Randy, the clothes don't make the person. It's what's inside that counts, and we both know he's really a nice guy."
Lauren was right. Aside from the recent incident, Randy really couldn't remember Mark taking the initiative to perform a hostile act against him or Brad. Mark just lets everything slide, until that night when he couldn't take any more and went berserk.
Randy nodded, "Yeah. He is. The goth look doesn't really reflect what he's like inside... I guess that's another reason why I pick on him."
---
Brad kept driving around in the Nomad searching for Mark. He was going around in circles, yet the kid was nowhere in sight. Brad decided to break his circular route and to check if Mark somehow managed to get back home without being spotted by his older brother.
The Nomad rolled by the Seven Eleven. The fruitless search had tired Brad and he needed a drink. He pulled the car over and walked in the store. Brad was usually calm, but right now, the possibility of Mark being in danger was really getting to him.
Lost in thought, Brad didn't see it until it was too late.
"Hey! Watch it!"
"OW!"
He walked right into someone who was on the way to the exit. Someone familiar.
"A..."
"Bradley!?"
"A...An...Angela?"
Brad and his ex-girlfriend just stared for a moment at each other. Seeing each other again was bringing up dozens of fond memories they shared together. Brad tried to put their relationship behind him and get back to the important matter at hand.
Angela on the other hand, was pretty thrilled to see Brad, but it wasn't because of their relationship but because she also received a copy of the "anonymous" Net Angel letter. Angela was able to figure out it was from Mark Patterson Taylor. Sure Mark sent the letter under an anonymous name, but he forgot to change Brad and Randy's names, which she thought was pretty careless. Another clue was the fact that some of the insults and jeers in the letter were ones Angela has heard only in the Taylor household.
"So, like, what are you doing here?" she asked.
"I'm just going to go get a drink. I could buy you one if you want."
"No thanks. I just stopped by here to pick up some things," she explained as she held up a small plastic bag of assorted chocolate bars.
Angela wanted to bring up the letter, but it was forbidden by the rules. She was more careful now about things that she says even on turbo warp speed speech, so she decided to try and get a helping hand in the issue another way.
"So, how're your brothers, Mark and Randy?"
"Randy's in the hospital for some broken ribs. He'll be out in a day or two. Mark is... missing. Have you seen him?"
The situation was worse than Angela thought. A simple Net Angel letter wouldn't be enough help for this problem.
"No, I haven't seen him. How long has he been missing? Is he in trouble? I could, like, help you look for him if you want."
"Thanks Angela. I've been looking all day and I think I could use all the help I can get." Brad had gotten used to Angela's rapid fire, but the Seven Eleven clerk on the other hand gave her an odd look.
---
Dylan walked Mark home just to make sure he wouldn't run into more trouble with the three drunks they dealt with earlier. He was wearing the vest and where he had his weapon safely tucked inside. Even Mark didn't know about it.
"Dylan?" he heard the taller kid's voice.
"Yeah?"
"How'd you get so good at fighting?"
Dylan found the question a bit funny. He didn't think of himself as a good fighter. He just loved martial arts. It was a hobby that doubled as something for his own protection. He had always used it for self-defense, except for that incident that got him booted out. That was the only time he used it for revenge.
"It's not fighting, it's martial arts," he corrected, "I just enjoy what I do. I also used to practice a lot with my brother."
Dylan's brother was gone now. Mark figured that Dylan was eager to teach him karate in hopes that he'll have someone to practice with. Mark slightly felt that he was being used, but then again, he wanted to be taught anyway. It was a win-win situation.
"Hey, we could practice together again sometime," he offered. Dylan just nodded in response.
The sky was getting a bit dark. The two were already nearly halfway to the Taylor home and so far, they haven't been intercepted by any drunks, punks or whatsoever. Dylan wasn't about to let his guard down though. Paranoia is often the best defense.
"Why was Jason mad at you anyway?"
"On my first day in Lakeside, I saw Jason smoking crack in the bathroom."
Crack? Mark remembered that time Brad was caught keeping drugs in the yard. Maybe he was keeping them for Jason?
"Then what?"
"I told his girlfriend," Dylan managed to say with a grin, "A girl with a bright future like Jessica shouldn't hang out with a loser like Jason."
Mark was stunned. Dylan clearly liked meddling at things he knew he could set straight.
The feeling of something whipping against his leg made Mark look down at his feet. His shoelace was undone. He simply bent down to tie it up. Dylan stopped to wait for him to finish. As Mark got back up, he noticed something in Dylan's vest.
"What's that?"
Dylan pulled out the nun chucks, "Just something I brought in case we attract more trouble."
Mark's eyes widened and a smile appeared on his face, "Wow! You actually use those?"
Dylan nodded and did a short demonstration. Nothing fancy, just a few loops and back.
"You think you could teach me some of that sometime?"
"Yeah. You could borrow these for practice if you want to," Dylan said, handing the weapon to Mark.
"Cool! Thanks."
Dylan stepped back a few paces as Mark started flailing the weapon around, trying to imitate Dylan's demo.
"You may want to be a bit careful with that..." Dylan cringed as Mark hit himself in the head.
"Owww!" Mark groaned as he clutched his head. He looked so much like the Tool Man when he hits his head.
"Are... you okay?"
"Yeah... I'm fine," Mark handed the nun chucks back while still clutching his head with his other hand.
Mark continued to walk while rubbing his head. The pair rounded the corner and passed the Seven Eleven where a familiar voice boomed at them, "Mark! Get away from him!" That's when Dylan felt something ram into him. Something big and solid.
Brad's tackle knocked the small Dylan down to the floor. Mark turned around and was surprised to see Brad rush at him and grab his arm, "Come on man! Let's get out of here." Brad pulled his youngest brother up to the Nomad, where Angela was waiting for them in the driver's seat. She hit the gas as soon as Brad and Mark got inside and slammed the door.
Dylan got up in time to see Brad drag Mark into the car, before the Nomad careened down the street. He was taken by surprise, and he just stood there wondering what that was all about.
Thinking about it, he realized that Brad must have been standing in the Seven Eleven when he saw Mark, bruised and clutching his head pass by. Then Brad saw him, Dylan Hunter, famous for getting booted out of school for nearly killing another student, holding a pair of nun chucks in his hand, following Mark.
Dylan managed to laugh at the whole misunderstood situation and forgave Brad's rude tackle. Dylan understood that Brad was just protecting Mark like a big brother should.
Dylan sighed. He stuffed the nun chucks back in his vest and started back home.
---
Angela could drive as fast as she talks. The Nomad was in the Taylor garage in absolutely no time at all.
Mark got out of the car and entered the house, Brad and Angela following behind him. Mark abruptly turned around and yelled at Brad, "What the hell was that all about?!"
"Woah! Easy! I just saved your life back there," Brad arrogantly explained.
Mark was dumbfounded. "Save my life? From what?!"
"From Dylan Hunter."
Mark was even more confused now. "What are you talking about? Dylan's my friend."
"If he's your friend, then why do you have that bruise on your face?"
Mark finally understood that Brad thought Dylan was beating Mark up. "He didn't do this! I was beat up by some drunks on the way to school and he helped me! I can't believe you would accuse someone like that!"
Angela cut in, "Mark, listen: Dylan Hunter was kicked out of his old school because he like, nearly killed another student in a fight. The guy was like, sent to the emergency room. Brad was just trying to help you back there because he thought you were like, in trouble."
Mark had a hard time to take in the information about his friend. It turned out that Dylan was actually hiding something from him. Still, that didn't give Brad any right to mess with Mark's social life by knocking down his friends and pulling him out of their company. Angrily, Mark turned to Brad and yelled, "I can't believe you! You assume too much! I can't believe I'm actually related to someone as stupid as you!"
Brad had pretty much ruined Mark's day. Mark quickly headed upstairs before anyone could say anything.
Angela and Brad looked at each other. They couldn't believe it. Instead of setting things right, they ended up doing more damage.
---
You really didn't think I was going to let this end with a simple apology did you?
"Empires rise and fall, but evil is eternal."
.:Brad and Randy shoot a bad look at Tie-B, Mark gives a "huh?" look while Lauren slaps her forehead:.
No wait, wrong quote.
...
Ah screw it.