(A/N: There is Spanish in this chapter. If you don't understand a word of it, don't worry, it isn't really important stuff, and anything that is important will be reiterated in English by the characters anyway. The plot thickens, and in a few chapters we shall get to see Ravendor's own personal view on things, (In which case you might need to keep some tissues handy) but not for a while. Still, enjoy!)
With a disappointed sigh, Kaitlyn understood the reason why Filgaia was called a wasteland. Honestly, she thought there was more to the world than just a dusty plateau of sand, surrounded by infallible mountains and cliffs. Where were the scary caverns? The ancient ruins? Long lost forests as far as the eye could see? Nothing here, just burning heat and the dried-up ground. Kaitlyn felt ripped-off, somehow.
And she was getting very tired, her small face was flushed red from heat and slight exhaustion. For every step Ravendor took, Kaitlyn had to take two littler ones, having trouble keeping up. Now her legs felt wobbly, she wanted to sit down and rest. Finally, she stopped, prompting Ravendor to also pause and halt the entire train of travellers behind them. Kaitlyn rubbed her sore knee, the old Band-Aid covering the scrape hardly blocked the pain. Ravendor let go of her hand and looked at the other two bandits, who were wondering why they had paused. Romero felt like he was going to collapse, he was very susceptible to heat because of his paleness and only ever liked to travel in the late afternoon. Ravendor really was a slave driver, the way he was making them march like this.
"Do you require a rest, Kaitlyn?" He asked soothingly, figuring that they were in no rush and had plenty of time to spare. Kaitlyn nodded, wiping her face with her hanky. "Very well," He said as he turned to the bandits, "Take a brief break, you have earned it."
After ages worth of walking in the blistering heat, they were indescribably grateful for the stony quarry they were resting at, piles of solid rocks making a perfect area to sit down and relax. Kaitlyn caught her breath and sat next to Dario, taking back what she had thought about this boring canyon. A quarry would be an excellent place to explore! Big boulders pushed up against each other left holes and small tunnels that radiated intrigue, if Kaitlyn wasn't so tired, she would be investigating every nook and cranny, playing her favourite game of explorer.
Ravendor was lying down on a comfortable rock not very far away, watching the fluffy white clouds float by. Muttering inaudibly, he traced invisible figures with a finger, it looked like he was trying to find shapes in the clouds. "Kaitlyn, do you know that the very place you sit in right now used to be under the water?" He informed her casually after a minute, dark hair screening his bright green eyes.
"Under water?" She asked, blinking. Did such a large enough amount of water even exist? Kaitlyn had never seen the oceans or the seas before in her entire life, the concept of so much liquid in one place truly boggled her mind. Ravendor turned his head to her, smiling sincerely. He didn't look like he was pulling her leg or lying at all. He had the calm and nonchalant appearance her father wore when explaining things of interest, at that moment she could truly believe that Ravendor was her uncle, he and Clive looked so alike in demeanour, it wasn't funny.
"Indeed. I shall show you some evidence, if you want." He continued, removing what looked to be an ordinary old stone from a cavity on the inside of his jacket, roughly the size of the palm of his hand, the rock bearing a quality of abrasive sandstone. Ravendor turned it over in his hands, making visible a small lump in the rock, a dark brown coloured thing embedded in the orange material. With a flick of his wrist, he threw the pebble over to the girl as she held her hands open. Kaitlyn's reflexes were quick and she caught it without any trouble.
The rock felt crumbly and feeble in structure, like she could crush it into sand if she had a harder substance nearby. But the object protruding from the sandy moorings was not made of the same material, as Kaitlyn looked closely, she made a disgusted face. The thing looked like a large petrified cockroach. It was dead, obviously, but it made her feel all grossed-out inside. She became reluctant to touch the stone and set it carefully next to her, edging away from the ancient corpse. "What is it?" She asked, sticking out her tongue at it.
"A trilobite," Ravendor elucidated convivially, "Or as I like to call them, antediluvian sea-cockroaches. They no longer exist, yet their fossils remain to illustrate their tumultuous past." He moved his arm and picked up the artifact with impromptu reverence, transferring it back to Kaitlyn's hands. She reluctantly took it again. "Quite valuable. I unearthed it from this quarry a short while ago, but you may keep it, I have no need for it."
"Is this old stuff?" She questioned him, eyes shining from the thoughts that her father might like this, seeing he collected strange things for a living. She lightly scratched the rock and some granules of sand became caught under her fingernails, the fossil may have been old, but the rock itself was extremely weak and brittle.
"Very old." He replied, going back to scanning the sky. It looked like, from the way his eyes wandered here and there, he was searching for something in the wide blue atmosphere. Clouds were gathering and slowly clumping themselves together, small at the moment, but threatening to increase in size as the day wore on. It seemed unlikely, but perhaps it may even rain tonight, an unheard of occurrence that only ever happened every blue moon. Ravendor's thoughts travelled ahead to the night, for the next two days, an excellent full moon would make journeying through the dark a sublimely pleasant one. The best time to travel, in his opinion.
Kaitlyn was able to stash the rock away in her pocket, it was just small enough to fit properly. It would make a nice souvenir for her very first adventure. "It sounds like you know a lot about old stuff!" She declared, full of intrigue for the man who was becoming more like a real uncle for every moment they spent together. "Do you look for old stuff too? Like my Daddy?"
A cloud passed over the sun for a short-lived moment, overshadowing everything beneath it. Ravendor sat up, crossing his legs and looking at his gloved right hand. Underneath the black leather, there was something that always reminded him of Clive, enough to make him feel like cutting of his own hand at times. This was one of those times. The bandit leader rarely took his gloves off, they blocked away such painful memories. "No, Kaitlyn," He answered softly, "I just have a bit of interest in everything. It is a healthy habit to form, it will make you wise to the ways of the wasteland."
Dario fanned away flies with his cowboy hat, the little nuisances escaping only for a few seconds before returning with twice the vigour. The bandit could never figure this out. The flies loved him, for some reason, despite the fact that he didn't smell any different to the other bandits living on the planet. Why did they single him out? One of the mysteries of the universe. Dario clenched his teeth and played a never-ending game of badminton with the winged insects, trusting Ravendor to watch Kaitlyn while his attention was diverted.
Being brave, Kaitlyn procured her rock and touched the surface of the trilobite fossil, telling herself over and over again that the ugly cockroach was dead. It didn't feel like what she had expected a cockroach shell to be, slimy and shuddery, but more cold and hard, like stone. This wasn't a corpse, it was a petrified pebble. And it was hers, her first real drifter artifact. "I wanna be a drifter someday, Uncle Ravendor! Do you think I can do it?" She looked at him expectantly for an answer.
"You have already taken the first step." Said Ravendor, close to conjuring nostalgia within himself. "The declaration and choice to be a drifter is sometimes the hardest step you need to take. You are a little young, mind you, so perhaps your flight may become a true one in the years ahead. That is for you to decide." Ages ago, another child had asked him practically the same question, but now he had grown up, wandering off on his own, fulfilling his dream. And this was his daughter, sitting right in front of him.
The time had flown far too fast.
"Err…" Mumbled Dario, still struggling with his little arthropod problem. "Anyone see where Romero went? I was kinda busy an'-" Ravendor glanced back up into the sky at his question, as if the answer floated up there. He saw nothing. Kaitlyn looked around the quarry. Dario was right, the blonde man had disappeared from everybody's view. There were rocks everywhere, so they could have easily hidden a person adept at discretion, say a ninja, but why on earth would Romero want to hide from them? It was a mystery.
"Come. Let us find him." Ravendor ordered. He'd be damned if he were to lose a man during a simple rest break. He was already thinking up a punishment for him once the ninja was found. He had many interlocking plans, and, he refrained from looking at the sky, knowing that he would see nothing, one of them was going wrong. Not to mention he was becoming reluctant to do away with Kaitlyn when the time seemed fit. A minor setback, but he was confident that his trigger finger would not freeze when endowed with his gun. Kaitlyn was a Winslett, she carried Clive's blood, that enough made Ravendor want to shoot her repeatedly, sadistically satisfying his need for revenge, until nothing but a bullet-riddled carcass remained.
Anybody with Clive's blood deserved to die.
xxx
Romero looked around for a suitable place to lie down and expire, so exhausted that he was. The sun burnt like scalding acid into his skin and shelter from it's all-seeing eye was Romero's ultimate goal. The same to what Kaitlyn had noticed, Romero also discovered the network of tunnels shaded from the outside world and begged ingress to any god that wished to listen. He peered in with his only functioning eye, shadows thrown over his face. It was more like a mini-cave than a hole in the ground, uninhabited by the looks of it, and very inviting.
Geez, how can those guys take it? I don't tan, I burn up like a cinder…
Getting to his knees, Romero crawled into the small cave, instantly refreshed by the drop in external temperature. He decided that he liked quarries and would wait a bit until he heard the others call out his name and come looking for him. There was no way he was going to spend his rest break outside in the boiling heat. A spotted beetle crawled over his hand, tickling the ninja and annoying him. He balled his hand into a fist and crushed the insect, hearing it go 'splat' as it was smooshed beyond recognition. Romero wiped his dirtied hand on his trousers and set them in his lap, sniffing.
What's with that posh drifter and Dario? Heh, I don't even know why I signed up for this, or let that guy lead us… Still, he has a pretty bad rep, from what I hear, even worse than Janus, but shit! He looks like he should be livin' the high life with a bunch'a aristocrats, not slummin' around with us…
And that little kid they were dragging around, shouldn't they just shoot the brat and get it over with? The bounty for the Maxwell gang was a pretty high one, but Romero just didn't get the way Ravendor was working to acquire it. It was almost as if he was personally involved with this whole mess, or had a secretive reason to want those drifter outlaws hung. The ninja was not unfamiliar to hatred, he had lived with it for every single year of his life, and he could just barely see through Ravendor's polite charade to a person who was fuming with anger underneath.
He removed a few throwing stars from a compartment on his belt, seeing his slight reflection in the tempered stainless steel. His basic signet was branded into the corner of each star, a little asterisk-like icon surrounded by a tiny circle. If a person was found dead with a star embedded in his pitiful corpse, they would know who to blame, and who to fear. Romero Gigio, that's who! The ninja ran a hand through his sweaty hair, his face was red, sunburnt from hiking during the day. Romero sighed, why couldn't he adjust to the heat?
But that Winslett brat seems to be doin' fine… A pretty little blonde, like a dolly to be dressed up and thrown around. To break…
His thoughts became impure, lowering one eyebrow and snickering to himself. Dario had every right to be concerned about Kaitlyn's safety, Romero was sinfully perverted, and quite proud of it. The ninja wiped his nose and acknowledged the fact that he sort of fancied her, enough to daydream about it with a corrupt grin on his face.
A pair of unidentifiable boots and legs appeared at the entrance of his hole/cave, making Romero's self-defense instinct wake him from his paedophiliac frame of mind and back to what he should be worried about. He did not recognize those shoes. He went as still as a ninja could be, barely breathing for fear of being caught. The pair of legs shifted a bit, closer to him, though Romero knew that his presence was unnoticed. He pulled his knees up to his chin and waited, watching for any way to identify the body those legs were attached to.
"…Tome a la izquierda. Hmm, una cosa más. ¡Caramba!" The voice snorted, thick with irritation. The language he spoke was not English, even a fool could tell that, including Romero. He saw hands were placed upon hips and the stranger snorted again. This person was not very tall and had a kind of darkish skin tone, a foreigner to these lands? "Stupid bird… You get me in trouble." He added as an afterthought, switching his dialect to English but still coming off as one quite alien to the language.
Romero could not take it anymore. He was very intrigued and felt he had to answer. "¡Hola!" He exclaimed from his hiding place, making his own shift to his native language. "¿Quien está usted?" As you could generally tell from his name, Romero was basically Spanish with a fluent tongue when it came to things like that. He hardly ever spoke the way he should, because then the only person who would be able to understand him was his brother, Dario. And you couldn't make any money that way. Romero could speak properly in English, but he could not read or write it, that was Dario's job. He reiterated himself in English, just in case. "Hey! Who are you?"
The stranger's hands slid off his hips, fingers spacing themselves in silent shock. He seemed like he didn't expect to be spoken to while he was so isolated in the wasteland. Before he even knew what was happening to him, a long tanned arm shoved itself into Romero's hole and grabbed his green bandanna, the bandit stiffened and gasped, feeling solid knuckles grazing his throat. Yet the motion was too quick and he was yanked out of his cool sanctuary, meeting a pair of furious and startled hazel eyes. "¿Quien está usted?" He asked, turning the question back on Romero. The man was short and a little bow-legged, with very curly brown hair and almond-shaped eyes. He did indeed look very foreign. "¿Cuál es su nacionalidad?"
"My nationality?" Romero repeated, his one eye widening. "Well, uh, I'm a Filgaian Spaniard, I guess." He raised his hands and easily wrenched himself from the little man's grip, it was not nearly as powerful as he had dared to think. Romero looked up to the sun, it was covered by a small cloud and nullified by the vapour created by the blockage. The ninja brushed himself off, patting the area of his kneecaps because they were encrusted with dirt from the cave. "What are you doin' here? Sounds like you're lost."
"I… I look for bird." Said the man, struggling with a heavy Spanish accent and through the complicated syllables. He pointed to the sky, where no feathered fowl chose to exist. "You see bird? I no find bird..." He slumped his shoulders and stared sullenly at the ground. A lot of his health rode on completing his mission, and it looked to be permanently in the pits right now. His boss would be beyond upset if anything were to happen to the bird, it was very important to their plans.
"Antonio!"
Antonio cringed, instantly identifying the light masculine voice that emanated from behind him. He was really hoping to avoid him until he could fix the problem he had fouled up. Gravel crunched under the soles of boots as a small team of people approached, all familiar to each other. The new person anxiously wrung his hands and slowly turned around to the voice, grinning in muted apprehension. "Buenos tardes, Señor." He stuttered, meeting his Boss's displeased gaze. Ravendor had his arms folded, Kaitlyn by his side. He was lightly tapping his bicep with the fingers of his opposing hand, trails of smoke from a cigarette tucked away in the corner of his mouth rising into the air.
"Indeed." Ravendor mouthed with the slightest and most untraceable narrowing of his eyes. "Explanation. Now." It was not a question, just a simple and forceful order. Kaitlyn looked up at her uncle, she had suddenly sensed a weird coldness coming down over his persona, vibrant even in the intolerable heat. Warm winds blew back the end of his long jacket, surging out behind him. He did not look too benevolent at that current moment in time.
The curly-haired man tugged at his shirt collar, feeling with full force the discontent Ravendor sent to him, it broke upon his soul like tidal waves smashing up against a solitary sand castle. "Señor Ravendor, I follow orders, I stay at place and get stuff ready, but then, then I lose bird. Have no bird, it go away." He tried to explain it as best he could in failing English, for Ravendor could not understand a word of Spanish as well as he could.
"Wait, he's one of us?" Romero wondered out loud, facing his team leader. "Boss? What's goin on?" He noticed Kaitlyn looking up at him, a cute smile on her face. She seemed happy over something Romero didn't know about. It unnerved him slightly, but then again, all children did that to him.
Dario slapped him on the shoulder. "C'mon, bro. You didn't think the Boss'd just hire us, did you? I mean, I was kind of guessin' something like this would happen." Antonio looked strangely at Dario, like someone going over a pile of old photos and trying to remember the names of all the people captured on paper. The man had unusual eyes, he looked young, barely over twenty five, but he had the weirdly shaped eyes of a cat, inquisitive and calculating.
A fluttering of black wings blew a very weak wind and knocked Ravendor's ponytail aside, a pair of pinching talons sinking into his white jacket. The bandit leader seemed to have anticipated this and held one arm out straight so the animal could land properly, hunched over with shadowy wings spread wide. The creature cawed once and leered at the bandits through eyes that had an intelligence equal to any human. "Ah, Kestorael," Ravendor greeted the bird on his arm, "Welcome back." It hopped up to his shoulder and remained there with apparent pride, at a place where it was supposed to be.
"You find bird!" Antonio exclaimed, surprised.
"No," Ravendor disagreed, "He has found us." Kestorael was a large black raven, apparently tamed and the pet of their group's leader. Ravendor reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny strip of unsalted beef jerky, feeding it to the bird who gulped the treat down greedily. As the bird ate, Ravendor united a loose red silk ribbon from around one of it's legs, a thin message unravelling into his hand. He pocketed the ribbon and looked at the note, only a few sentences long.
"Yes, the bird, He only just come back, good bird." Antonio explained in his heavily laden Spanish accent. Inside, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. It looked like he was off the hook. That raven sure knew the best time to turn up, though it would have been better if it had never flown the coop in the first place.
"And yet the drifter team refuses to turn themselves in." Said Ravendor, announcing the contents of the note. "If they will not hang, then I-" He stole a glance at Kaitlyn who seemed to be fascinated by the arrival of his pet. "I will be forced to retaliate." He didn't care whether or not the other three lived or died, that was all just routine in the wasteland, life or death, heads or tails. Well, maybe he did just give a little damn about Jet, though the boy seemed to despise him now. What he really wanted to see was Clive hanging suspended from the scaffolds, a rope biting deeply into his bloody and broken neck. Ravendor would trade all his earthly possessions just to be present at the execution, with the best seat reserved only for him. He would laugh and clap, and when it was over, he would cut the body down himself just to see if it were dead.
"Can I see the bird?" Kaitlyn asked adorably, stretching her small arms out to the raven. Kestorael cocked his head to one side and cawed almost questioningly, looking at his master. The girl loved pets, she had a cat of her own, but had never gotten really close to such a majestic big bird before.
"Oh, by all means." Ravendor replied jovially, not showing at all the morbidly horrific thoughts running through his secretive head, extending his own arm so the bird could hop down it and over to the girl. It did not seem like it, but Kestorael was not an ordinary creature, he was a rare form of wind sprite, a wind raven, as it were. Most sprites of that element were usually rodents, but Kestorael was a beautiful exception. Though he could not talk, he was perfectly capable of understanding human speech, and because of that, was able to make his own choice. He decided to say 'hello' to Kaitlyn by hopping on the small perch of her shoulder and pulling her hair gently with an ebony black beak, claws only lightly digging into her dress. Then, he nipped her lightly on the ear with his ebony beak, marking her as a friend.
"Hey, ah, ow!" Kaitlyn exclaimed between giggles, it didn't hurt, it just felt weird. Hesitantly, she stroked the bird's smooth feathered back, it felt silky and cool, the bird's beady little eyes were a pretty blue, an unusual colour for a simple scavenger. His claws grazed her delicate skin under her dress, like when she taunted her cat and it built up the courage to try and scratch her, but here she felt a sort of cheerful kindness coming from the dark raven, it did want to be her friend.
"That does mean he like you," Antonio explained, brushing back some of his curly brown hair to show a reddened ear, "I get bit too, see?" He rubbed it and decided never to let a raven chew on his ear ever again. He tried not to burst out laughing at that thought. He didn't think he'd have to promise that to himself, a nonsensical proclamation.
"Kestorael, come." Ravendor ordered, beckoning. The raven harmlessly scratched Kaitlyn behind the ear and flew back to his original perch on Ravendor's shoulder, eyeing everyone with intrigue. He had a strand of Kaitlyn's hair in his beak, for ravens were attracted to shiny and beautiful things. He looked happy at finding his new prize. "Now," Said the group leader, getting back to business, "I thought I told you to remain at your post." The tone of his voice became darker, "Why do you disobey me?"
"I so sorry!" Antonio apologised with vehemence, "Señor Ravendor, the bird, he fly away and I follow, I track bird so no get lost, Si?" The newest bandit pointed to the raven almost accusingly, blaming everything on the animal. Kestorael was aware of this and cawed back at him, denying it without words. He fluttered his wings and a feather fell from the plumage, floating to the rocky earth.
"Kestorael is meant to keep up communications with out unnameable allies," Ravendor scolded, flashing the note he had received at the bandit, "You should have followed my orders despite any complications. I should punish you, but…" His tone softened and he sighed, shrugging. "I suppose we are all together now, even if your meeting is a premature one. Dario, Romero, here is the surprise I mentioned, your brother, Antonio."
All the pieces of the puzzle clicked together in the interlocking framework of life. The three bandits felt like they had been clubbed by Emperor Marduke himself. Romero and Dario looked at Antonio, the new member of the team did likewise. Then Dario and Romero looked at each other, their mouths open in a gape. Ravendor smiled, amused at the stares they were giving everyone. "I am correct?" He continued, "You have a brother named Antonio, and a deceased one named Lucio?"
The blonde ninja pounced, throwing himself at the shorter and younger bandit. "'Tonio! ¡Hermanos, hermanos! ¡Dios mio! Holy fucking Guardians! I didn't recognize you, it's been, it's been ten years!" Antonio was practically crushed under Romero's huge bear hug, a little too shocked to return anything right now. He decided that going limp would be the best thing and he did so, smiling a little.
"'Ro?" He asked, "Is that you?" He glanced behind Romero, a difficulty because his vision was impeded by a whole lot of blonde hair and a bandanna. "And so that be big brother Dario over there?" He saw Dario grin and nod, tipping his hat for a welcoming greeting. Ten years since they had last met. In their childhood, they terrorized the township of Little Twister as a small gang called the 'Latin Quarter', just the four boys, Lucio, Dario, Romero and Antonio, in that order of age and rank. Circumstances caused them to split and they had never seen each other since. That is, until today.
Romero looked positively euphoric, turning to Ravendor. "How the hell did you know about-"
"I answer that." Antonio cut in, grinning. "I look for brothers, all over Filgaia. I find nothing, no Romero, no Dario, no even Lucio. Then, in tavern, man comes up to me," He gestured to Ravendor, "And say; 'You look for brothers? I help you find brothers.' He say I help him, he help me. And here I am." Happily, Antonio slapped Romero hard on the back, nearly knocking the blonde bandit over. "So! Little ninja be big ninja now! You grow, hermanos, up so big now, yes?"
"And you," Romero replied, a huge smirk on his face, "You're still a shortass." He emphasized his statement by lowering a hand and indicating a height to the ground, not very high at all. "I remember when you were only this tall," He said, "But you've made some progress, so that's alright." He scratched his scarred eye, a smirk fixed on his sunburnt face.
The short man looked indignant, but in a merry way. "¡Soy tan alto como usted!" He proclaimed in unbroken Spanish, looking away haughtily. Antonio, rubbed his cheek with the back of a hand, revealing that he wore the most unusual type of gloves, tough hard leather with lead-capped knuckles and a metal rod running parallel to the bones in his hand. He was equipped with no ARMs, but a direct hit with those gloves could seriously hurt somebody.
"Suuuure you are," Dario agreed sarcastically, joining in on the conversation, "An' I guess your English ain't improved, neither."
"I English dyslexic!" Antonio answered, "I no can help! Dario, you still gunner?"
"Yep," Said Dario, continuing to hold Kaitlyn's hand, "You know I couldn't cut it as no ninja, 'kept fallin' off buildings, and I'm much better with a gun anyways." There was once a time when Dario had tried to be a ninja, with catastrophic results. He had broken his leg three times in one year because of it. Dario had never tried again. Romero and Antonio were the really gifted ones, and he sadly admitted, he had accumulated the brains of the gang, though it was not much.
Ravendor coughed loudly to get everyone's attention, his cigarette fuming in his hand. "This is no simple reunion," He informed them, "Might I remind you gentlemen that we have a destination to reach?" The three bandits became downcast, looking to the west. The afternoon was aging, and if they continued to travel now, it would only be a few hours until the dark. Against his will, Dario's stomach grumbled it's need for food, and the bandit clutched at it guiltily. Kaitlyn continued to look tired, her pure white stockings stained with gritty dust. Kestorael cawed something naggingly on his ear, and Ravendor finally conceded defeat. He was used to walking for miles and miles, he had selfishly forgotten that the others could not do the same.
"I'm hungry." Said Kaitlyn, pulling on Dario's arm. The bandit nodded, for the feeling was mutual.
With a well-directed breath, Ravendor blew his long fringe out of his face, rolling his green eyes in exasperation. He drew a hand across his brow to wipe away tiny traces of sweat from his face, the movement spilling cigarette ash onto his immaculate jacket. He brushed the grey cinders away and blew smoke through his nose, a small grey cloud forming near his face. "This is incorrigible, but I shall allow it only this once, for the sake of the child's health. But be warned, if she were not present, I would have no qualms about making you march for hundreds of miles on nothing but bread and water. You three," He gestured to the bandits, "Set up camp. We will stay here tonight."
"Camping?" Kaitlyn breathed, absolutely loving the idea. "We get to go camping?"
Ravendor patted her gently on the head. "Of course. With a bonfire and everything. You shall enjoy it, I expect." He shot a glance at the bandits, making them jump up to work, running around and readying a campsite. Ravendor didn't have to do a thing. Mind elsewhere, he stroked Kestorael's feathers and mused on the things that were to come, creating a secret smile.