I do not own Cars, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. I do, however, own all the Original Characters.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Virginia, 1944

The cabin. He dreaded his return. Nearly a week had gone by since the accident, and two days since Jackie was pronounced dead at the hospital. The heat from the incident had died down enough for him to feel safe visiting Miranda. From the unkempt yard and on trembling tires, Brian stared at the place that had once been his second home with a family that adored him; now, it was foreign and despondent. He fought the urge to turn and run as a surge of nearly a decade of memories flooded his mind and rendered him weak.

With a hollow sigh he rolled forward, the tall grass brushing along his rocker panels and fenders. Although he never needed to, he knocked on the door with all the courage he could muster and he waited for Miranda. He wondered if she despised him for being the only one to escape hell. What if she didn't want to see him. What if-

Brian heard the bolt start to slide across the wood. The door crept open on rusty hinges and he became face to face with Miranda. She gazed at him with cold eyes before reversing from the threshold to allow him to enter, returning to her usual spot next to the kitchen table where her coffee had gone cold. Brian feared the woman he once knew had departed.

She finally spoke. "Why did you come back? The cops could be watching the house right now. "

Brian smacked his lips together, his mouth suddenly dry as he followed her inside, parking near the table. "They can't prove I was there that night - no hard evidence." He inched forward to go to her for comfort, but her stance warned him to stay away. He stopped, reversing from her further. "Miranda, please," he continued. "come with me. I'm going to take care of you but we have to leave town right-"

"No," she interrupted, her tone deep and assertive. She had gone pale, and appeared weak. The vividness of her personality was fading. "Leave here and don't come back. There's nothing here for you anymore."

The moonshine runner, discouraged by her detachment, slumped on his shocks. He silently admitted to himself that she was in no position to be reasoned with. Brian shook his grille, regretting his next words. "Then this is for you," he breathed. Without breaking his gaze, he slowly retrieved an object from his fender, watching her as her eyes followed the movement of his tire and to the fat envelope he placed on the kitchen table beside him.

Understanding the contents to be Jackie's cut of the deal, Miranda finally snapped from her dismal shock and denial. Without warning she cried out and violently swiped her coffee mug off the table, the porcelain colliding against the cabinetry and shattering throughout the kitchen. "You think I want that money?!" she wailed in fury, followed by an onslaught of tears. She collapsed to the floor in defeat, her sides heaving from the relentless sobs.

Brian drove around the table and rushed to her side, encouraging her to lean against him in an effort to soothe her. He rocked back and forth and pulled her closer as she sobbed. The longer he listened to her the more reality seeped into his mind - her life was in shambles and he was at a loss of what to do with his own future. Left without a purpose and the only family he had known, he was faced with uncertainty.

"I- I told him to stop this," she sputtered. "Always one more deal. Brian, I'm a widow now. I don't know what to do..."

Brian swallowed hard and exhaled slowly to calm his nerves, refusing to cry. "You know I'll take care of you," he managed to whisper. "You know that…"

"No, you take care of yourself," she told him, and with a tear-filled windshield she took the envelope off the table. She caressed it as fresh tears slid across her hood, down her grille, and onto the floor in a puddle that was slowly forming, knowing that Jackie had touched it only nights before. A love forever gone. She winced and slid the envelope back to Brian. "Take this away - it's oil money now and I don't want it here."

He could feel her glancing up and over at him, but he was unable to look at her. He stared at the wall across from them, his face contorted from a pain he struggled to suppress.

"Get out of here while you can," she urged. "Please, I'm begging you- do something honest. You have a talent." Seeming to have resolved herself from the gross full body sobbing, she broke away from his grasp and planted a sloppy wet kiss on his fender that Brian knew meant farewell. She left his side and quietly glided across the floor to the back of the cabin.

Unable to speak, he left the envelope where it lay and headed for the front door, slowing driving out of the place he had built his life in. In his mirror, he watched as Miranda stared out over the property and the mountains in the distance from the back porch, searching for peace in the midst of the daunting realization she was alone.

He drove to the front of the cabin, and any tears that had started to form at the bottom of his windshield quickly dissipated as he was met with the sight of twelve cops positioned around the house and on the lawn. He came to an abrupt halt, nearly fumbling down the porch. Knowing that they couldn't arrest him, Brian surmised they were here for private justice. Mentally preparing himself for the beating he deserved, the all-black primer figure appeared menacing as he drove down the ramp to face them with a distasteful sneer.

But nothing came - at least not immediately. A few drove around him and towards the cabin.

The sheriff, noting Brian's confusion, inched forward to gain his attention. "We're here for Miranda," he spat, knowing one last way he could destroy the outlaw. "We're going to arrest her for aiding and abetting…"

Brian's eyes went wide in dread, his engine feeling as though it had seized. "Leave her out of this! She's a grieving widow."

The sheriff looked Brian up and down with deep-seated animosity. "Two of our men are dead," he continued as he motioned to his deputies to arrest Miranda. "I dare you to tell their wives the same…"

Before Brian could so much as turn to go back towards the cabin and intercept them, three more deputies jumped on him and pinned him to the ground and shoved his grille into the dirt, the impact knocking the breath out of him. He sputtered and coughed as the deputies pushed him further into the hard earth, sending plumes of dust into the air that momentarily blocked his vision.

"No!" he cried out, struggling to escape their hold on him; his powerful engine roared out and echoed through the forest while his tires spun and spun, failing to gain traction. "Don't do this - she's just a woman!" He heard Miranda scream. There was a commotion. A crash. Finally the deputies emerged from the cabin with Miranda in tow, shoving her down the ramp and onto the lawn to throw her in front of Brian.

She regarded Brian whose torment was growing, but her cold and nearly lifeless eyes had returned. She spat out oil onto the grass from being hit. "Leave and don't come back," she commanded.

Brian turned his glare back to the sheriff, gasping for air. "You're starting something you can't finish."

"Are you threatening us, Cartona?" the sheriff asked, his remaining deputies gathering closer. "Because we don't need an excuse." He heard Miranda scream again and his eyes darted to the side to see her being dragged down to the dirt road. He tried once more to come out from underneath the pile of cops. But before he could call out to her, his world faded to black as a deputy delivered a blow that rendered him unconscious.

Her screams echoed in the forest.

South Carolina, May, 1949

Sunday. Colton's favorite day of the week. Now halfway through the racing season with a large margin of points ahead of McConnico who held second place, his motivation to win was stronger with each passing event. In only a few months, the team turned from local champions to state celebrities, becoming a common name in neighboring states with their growing popularity and winning streak that soared.

One by one, the racers were escorted to the track with their crew chiefs, making their appearance before the crowd through a makeshift lane laced with ropes and guarded by track officials. Fans, spectators, and reporters swarmed to the boundaries of the lane to wave at them as they passed by. The orange car soaked in the attention, grinning as they cheered and whistled, feverishly waving back at his fans and smiling for the cameras.

But as his eyes skimmed through the thick crowd just before reaching the opening of the dirt track, Colton caught a glimpse of a lone female car that was not jumping for joy, nor was she waving or cheering. An angelic powder blue coupe with white fenders sat motionless amongst the chaos with a smile so delicate that Colton could not tear his gaze away. Flush with warmth and entranced by her beauty, he shamelessly lost himself in her dark blue eyes.

Brian, misreading the true significance of the exchange, urged Colton to stay focused. "C'mon," he grumbled jokingly, jabbing a tire into Colton's side to get his attention; the racer was startled from his stare. "get out there to the starting line - she'll be there when you're done." Without another word he parted from Colton and turned into pit row to join James and Mason.

Colton reluctantly left his encounter with the pretty blue coupe. For the majority of the race he could not tear his mind away from thoughts and visions of her. His driving became sloppy, he made no effort to lead any laps, barely maintaining the minimum to remain a contender. He fantasized what her soft lips would feel like against his own, envisioning that her voice would be sweet like honey and he hung on every imaginary word she spoke in his mind.

Brian's aggravation with Colton's apathy grew. Each lap that Colton completed, the angrier he became at the sight of his partner's dumbfounded gaze. Feeling as though he had given the young racer enough time to focus on his own volition, he decided to correct him as he pulled into pit row for a tire change with forty laps to go. "Get your thoughts off that girl and finish this damn race," he finally snapped over the team's radio station.

Colton, taken aback by the outburst, slid to a stop at his station next to James and Mason. While the two team members quickly got to work around him, the orange car glanced up to Brian with grille agape in shock to see his trainer peering down at him with a scowl from the concrete overhang. A few racers bolted by them on pit row to their own sections, covering them in bits of soil and flecks of clay. "How did you know I was-"

"Hard to miss - everyone saw you gawking at her," he interrupted, voice crackling through the static. He gained a scoff of disapproval from James. "And if you saw the way you've been driving today, you'd be ashamed."

Knowing better than to roll his eyes, and being courteous of James and Mason, Colton left pit row prudently to join the horde of racers and to resume his position near the front of the leader board. No one dared to speak after Brian's unexpected scolding, and the awkward stagnant radio silence amongst the team was more overwhelming than the thundering and revving from the pack of racers as they surged on lap after lap.

But the crew chief was no longer concerned with Colton's conduct - he had grown quiet for different reasons. The world around him faded to a dull noise as he studied a group of racers that had been slowly gaining on Colton's position near the front of the pack. He eyed the racers intensely, for their unusual tactic was suspicious and unorthodox. Brian became increasingly nervous when the cars surrounded Colton in a formation that was non beneficial.

Colton, in an effort to move out of their way, shifted position and was now unfavorably between the guard rail and the formation, forcing him into a dangerous area. Having warned Colton about this trap many times, Brian silently cursed to himself. The herd was drifting around the second turn when Brian became alarmed at the sight of a four-wide slide. Something felt wrong. "Colt you need to fall back or you'll-"

The racer closest to Colton collided with his left front quarter panel, breaking him out of the smooth pattern around the turn. The crowd collectively gasped. His eyes went wide as he spun, bouncing over the hard uneven edges of ground near the guard rail. Panicking at his sudden loss of stability, he made the mistake of planting his tires in between the patches of dirt and hard clay to try and stop himself from flipping. His right front slick hooked the edge of the clay, rupturing his tire and folding his axel up underneath his frame as body slammed into the grandstand wall beside him; the rest of the racers barreled past him.

The cloud of dust drifted away in the breeze and was replaced by a frenzy of camera shutters and flashes from the reporters. The young racer looked up at the spectators, the horror on their faces engraved into his memory.

"Brian!" Colton cried out over the radio, not recognizing his own voice. "Brian, I can't feel my tire! I can't move!" He started to tremble as he looked down at his hood which was dented inward, fender crumpled, his headlight gone and his passenger door smashed in. Startled by the sight of the damage, he wanted to scream but no sound came out. He struggled to breathe - his view collapsing into tunnel vision, creating black spots that muddled his focus.

Brian was already on his way before Colton pleaded for help. The green and black car had reversed from his post atop the overhang, down the ramp, through pit row to a section of the guard rail that could be removed. He shoved his way through the crowd and past security who did not dare to stop him. He internally screamed as his thoughts were littered with the worst images, fearing the extent of the damage.

The crew chief slid to a stop in front of Colton and was met with an image he was not ready for. His eyes roved over the marred metal, fighting to suppress his anguish for Colton's sake to not frighten him further. "I'm here, kid," he breathed, placing a tire on the orange car's good fender reassuringly. To his relief, the track officials and tow truck were rushing towards the pair full speed, their yellow and red lights flashing. He looked back at his distraught friend who was rapidly fading. "You're gonna be fine… you're gonna be fine…"

Colton failed to regain clarity at the sound of Brian's voice, slipping into shock. No longer able to support himself, his right side sagged under his weight and scraped along the concrete wall he was stuck against. His sides heaving with each ragged breath. He was vaguely aware of the feeling of the tow truck hooking him under his grille, the glaring lights blinding him as the track officials flanked him. He winced out of pain and confusion.

"I won't leave you alone, Colt," Brian continued, keeping pace alongside Colton as he was dragged off the track. "I'll be right with you the whole time…"

Just before falling unconscious, Colton glanced up to see a flash of powder blue that was not the sky.

Brian accompanied the ambulance to Roper Hospital in silent agony. The drive to the west side of downtown Charleston was at least a half an hour trip, and each mile felt longer than the previous. Nurses and staff were already positioned outside the main entrance by time the ambulance and police escort arrived. Insisting that he remain involved, the green and black car assisted the staff in ushering Colton into the first available operations room.

Nurses and doctors alike parted in the corridors as Brian and the staff barreled down the hallways. He watched Colton's eyes flicker open while the young car faded in and out of consciousness, knowing that he would remember none of this. "We're here, Colt," Brian spoke to him regardless of whether or not he could understand. The nurses pushed Colton inside the room. "I'll be right outside waiting for you." The double doors swung shut.

The commotion was gone the instant the doors settled. Through the small plexiglass window Brian watched two doctors approach Colton and that's when he turned away, unable to witness the rest. He reversed and parked himself against the wall with a sigh that shook his whole body, idly watching cars pass by him. Business resumed in the hallway but he still felt the rush of the situation.

Just as the green and black car closed his windshields to find peace, he heard the sound of a familiar engine. His eyes darted to his right to see Dave approaching.

Dave slowed to a stop next to Brian. "What damage does he have?" he asked, slightly winded from the drive.

Brian was hesitant to begin. "I think he broke a tire rod - maybe his axel too. His frame seems alright, but his suspension will need work. Where are James and Mason?"

"When I left, they were packing up their station in pit row and should be here any minute. Joanna's handling the paperwork at the front desk for us." He saw the faraway look in Brian's eyes. "Hey," he breathed, barely getting Brian to look his way. "I'm sure he'll be okay…"

Brian, ignoring Dave's comforting statement, looked beyond him and to the lobby at the end of the hallway to see that the room was flooded with reporters and journalists; cops struggling to contain the crowd. "Can you do me a favor?" he asked, and Dave nodded quickly. "They want a statement. I'd appreciate it if you would handle it for me - I'm in no place to give one…"

"Sure - what should I tell them?"

"That Colton is stable and in surgery right now with no life-threatening injuries. Keep it simple. If they get pushy," Brian continued with emphasis. "ask Donahue and his boys to remove everyone - I'm sure they'd be glad to do it." Brian watched Dave turn around to return to the lobby without another word. Feeling overwhelmed, he left the operations wing and drove along the first floor of the hospital until he located the courtyard.

He drove out onto the white gravel and into the bright afternoon sun, surveying the area to discover that he was truly alone in the courtyard. He glided over to the nearest oak tree for shade, parking beneath the largest limb that was shrouded in hanging spanish moss. His mind swarming with thoughts of how Colton's surgery was going, he retrieved a much needed cigarette. It wasn't until he brought the cigarette to his lips that he noticed how shaky his tire was, his nerves shot from the stress. He fumbled with the lighter, cursing under his breath with each failed attempt to ignite it.

"Here, let me get that," offered a voice from behind him.

Brian glanced into his side view mirror to see James approaching, and he turned to greet the car. Nodding in appreciation, he leaned forward so James could assist him with his own lighter. The crew chief settled back on his shocks and took the first drag that felt almost as good as an orgasm. "What a day, huh?" he said as he exhaled, the smoke engulfing them both. He watched the cloud waft upwards into the tangled mess of branches and moss above.

"I've got more bad news," James confessed as he prepared his own cigarette. Brian eyed him skeptically and the crew member detested every bit of this moment and what was to follow. "Well, Mason and me finished packing up, we were in the locker room getting our things when we overheard some guys talking about how Andrew paid off that racer to hit Colton so he wouldn't win."

An immediate rage boiled from the pit of Brian's tank, traveled along his frame, into his engine, and expelled itself through his mouth. "What?!" he bellowed, the cigarette dropping from his lips onto the gravel. "That mother fucking piece of work I swear to-"

"What did I just hear?"

Both Brian and James lashed around to see Dave sitting behind them, failing to hear his arrival after the press statement.

Dave watched James give a sigh that was followed by a shrug, and he assumed it meant he was not intended to be a part of this conversation. More concerned with another problem brewing, Dave ignored James and turned his attention to Brian pacing the courtyard in front of them, knowing the trainer well enough now to recognize when the car was scheming - this time for revenge. "Brian," he began softly. "swear to me that you won't do anything."

Brian resisted the urge to yell as his pacing turned aggressive. He already decided what actions to take. "What, you don't think this warrants a response?"

The maroon and black car sighed, momentarily closing his eyes; he was in no mood to argue with Brian but felt a dispute rising. "All I'm saying is, there are other ways to handle this. I have a lawyer who-"

"Lawyers?!" Brian spat sarcastically. "The pussy way out? Dave," he continued, laughing with a hint of insanity in his tone. "I respect the hell outta you but sometimes you gotta put aside the corporate procedures and see that this is real life." He was disheartened that Dave wasn't as furious as him. "The poor kid is laid up for Dodge knows how long all because Andrew can't do his own dirty work. Soon the whole racing circuit will know what-"

"You're worried about word getting out? You don't think that Colton will be disappointed to know that you'd risked your own career for revenge?" Dave asked, remaining calm. "Brian, I don't know him half as well as you do, but haven't you noticed that he isn't all that fond of violence?" Brian kept silent save for the gravel crunching under his treads. "Either we do it the lawyer way or no way, alright? Brian?"

Brian grumbled and rolled his eyes, giving a dramatic sigh. "Fine. I swear I won't touch the car…"

From the side, James smiled wide. "Wow, Brian," James chimed in. "This is a big step for you! We'll persuade that temper right outta you!" He gained a flat glare from Brian and Dave simultaneously and he sank on his frame uncomfortably. "Okay, not ready for humor yet, that's alright." He wasn't surprised by the sight of Brian abruptly driving away and leaving them behind. "Well," James said, throwing his spent cigarette to the ground. "one of us has to go save Brian from himself."

Seeing this as an opportunity, Dave volunteered. "I'll take care of this…"

Back inside the hospital, Brian returned to the operations wing to resume his position in front of Colton's room to wait for an update. The chilly atmosphere of the hospital failed to reduce the heat his engine radiated out of fury. To his dismay, he saw that Dave followed and was coming down the hallway towards him. He exhaled sharply, grumbling as the car pulled up beside him with his clean tires squeaking on the glossy linoleum tiles.

Dave regarded Brian for a moment, studying how he glared at the white wall across from himself with a heat so intense he expected it to ignite. Feeling brave, Dave spoke. "You look like you could use some comp-"

"Nope," Brian snapped without breaking his glare. "not even close." However he immediately regretted his retort as he felt an immense, thick sadness overcome Dave from his petty reaction. "Wait," he rushed as Dave turned to leave. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. Fuck, I'm sorry, I don't… that's not-" he stopped himself, sighing harshly. "Yes, I'd be grateful if you stayed with me…"

Dave wordlessly parked next to Brian and settled down quietly. He boldly offered him comfort by placing a tire on Brian's fender in reassurance and was relieved when the car didn't protest and seemed to relax, shifting out of his distraught and stiff demeanor. Thinking the conversation was over and the situation resolved, Dave drifted away into his own thoughts. He was shaken from his inner dialogue when the trainer spoke again.

"It nearly killed me to watch him get hurt," Brian admitted.

Dave nodded in appreciation for his honesty, now understanding that McConnico was not the problem, or at least not the root of it. Brian's stance suggested that he did not want to elaborate, and Dave would not push his boundaries - it was enough of a statement. He contemplated how to respond with empathy, but there was nothing he could do or say to change the situation that would ease Brian's distress.

The two sat together in silence for several hours while they waited for Colton's status, their hopes tampered with each time a nurse entered or exited the operations room without so much as glancing their way to acknowledge their presence. The time was nearing six o'clock before the two doctors finally drove out of the room. "You can go in now," one of them informed Brian and Dave as the other doctor drove away to another patient.

Brian instantly felt sick - after hours of anxiousness, he still wasn't prepared to see Colton. "When can he go home?"

"He has to stay until tomorrow morning, but afterwards he can be taken home. He's not allowed to drive for some time though," the doctor continued. "he will need to be escorted to the place where he can be on bed rest."

It was unspoken between Brian and Dave that Colton would be delivered to Brian's apartment so he could monitor his progress. When the doctor departed, Brian swung left through the double doors to see his best friend still unconscious from the procedures - his hood popped open slightly to allow a mess of lines connected to machines to snake out onto the ground around him, his right side lifted on hydraulics to prevent interference to the repairs.

With a heavy sigh, Brian moved forward to be closer to the orange car. He inspected the quality of the restoration, careful not to accidentally disturb Colton further as he performed a complete circle around the car.

Dave observed Brian from the doorway with a deep empathy, deciding not to fetch the others when he recognized the subtle aura of heartbreak that Brian exuded. Instead, he would tell them that they could see Colton tomorrow, leaving Brian in peace. "I think this is the only time we'll ever see him this relaxed," he joked, receiving a smirk that conveyed lighthearted annoyance.

Brian turned to look at Dave with weary eyes. "You guys go home and get some rest - I'm gonna stay the night," he said, but Dave stared at him with an expression that suggested the maroon and black car was no longer concerned about Colton, but with Brian. He smiled, slightly embarrassed at how vulnerable he had allowed himself to become in front of Dave. "Don't worry," he assured him. "I'll call if anything comes up…"

Dave understood but reluctantly left. When he disappeared, Brian retrieved a heavy blanket from one of the cabinets and heaved it over Colton's cab, tucking in the edges by his rocker panels to insulate him and adjusting his cushions before parking closely next to his undamaged side. Now completely alone, and with no one left to judge him, he shut his eyes tightly and finally allowed his lower lip to quiver.

The area was obnoxiously bright - a blinding glow that appeared etherial. Was he dead and in heaven? Colton groaned at the discomfort from the white fluorescent lights, squinting as the room became discernible. He was surrounded by white cloth curtains, white sheets, white cabinets, and… his trainer, who sat by himself in the corner of the room by the door with a magazine. "You're no angel," he croaked. "I must be in hell…"

Brian, who had calmed considerably during the time it had taken Colton to wake from the anesthesia, was reassured by the return of Colton's humor. "Close," he said with a smirk, flipping the page of the latest Racing Sports Network issue. "The hospital."

Colton stretched on his shocks and the blankets slid off his cab onto the floor, revealing his repairs. Having forgotten about his current state, a surge of pain coursed throughout his frame, bits and pieces of the wreck coming to memory. He frantically glanced down at his fender and door to see that it had been repaired, the new parts grey in color with primer and chalky in texture. His suspension incessantly ached with a throb that matched the pulse of his fuel line, and he was reminded of the sound of his axle snapping in half beneath him. "What happened on the track?"

The green and black car was prepared for Colton to be in immediate pain. He glided over to his friend with the medicated can of oil he had waited to give to him the moment he woke up. "You got trapped along the railing," he replied, sliding the can to him. He observed Colton take the first sip, quietly thrilled that he was coherent and seemingly fine.

Colton was impressed with the instant relief. He returned his attention to his right side which was still elevated on a hydraulic so the racer could not bare any weight down on his axel. With his current situation almost palpable, he felt brave enough to push for answers. "How bad is it?"

Brian dreaded this inevitable part of the conversation. "You'll be out for a bit," he informed him, stalling. Colton stared back at him impatiently for the real news. He sighed. "You won't be able to return to racing until the first week of June," he admitted, gaining the expected whine of disapproval from the orange car. "But don't worry - even if Andrew wins the next two races, you'll only be tied in points."

"June is at least two more weekends away!" Colton complained with a huff. "Forget the points - what am I gonna do? I'll go insane parked around." But he was quick to accept his situation when he noticed that Brian appeared to be bothered by something else altogether. He felt an ache in his engine that was not related to the wreck. "Hey," he said softly. "why do you look so sad?"

Brian pursed his grille in thought, silently reprimanding himself for appearing even remotely overwhelmed. Any other time he would of felt compelled to be honest with him, but he did not want to burden the kid with his own conflict and true knowledge of the situation at tire. He forced his trademark smirk and returned to his magazine with a fake interest to avoid eye contact with him. "So that girl Cassie came by for you," he commented, taking a sip of his eighth cup of coffee.

"Who?" Colton asked, flinching again. "Oh!" he exclaimed. His engine fluttered nervously and he nearly blushed at the reminder of the girl he saw earlier. Brian chuckled to himself. "She came by? Where is she now?"

"She was in one of the crowds that kept coming to visit - the police had to push everyone away again not too long after that. I lost sight of her." He watched Colton chug the rest of the oil, surmising that the morphine must finally be wearing off. He drove over to the row of cabinets along the wall near the door, opening each drawer in search of another medicated can of oil. "Why, do you know her?"

Colton sighed in defeat while he watched Brian rummage through the supplies. "No, but I felt like I did when I saw her. Did you get her number for me, too?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

"She wouldn't give it to me," he said with a wink.

The twinge of discomfort his laugh caused was worth it. "So she's beautiful and smart…"