A/N: See chapter one for disclaimer. I'm not sure how to formulate any sort of thanks for all the wonderful reviews I've gotten so far, but let it be known, each and every one is more than appreciated. You guys are the best. And completely off topic: does anyone have a livejournal? I'm wish to read something new. And I need to say I'm sorry, this took me longer than I had anticipated. I chalk it up to midterms, fieldtrips, rat dissection (do not take Biology, my friends. Do not.) and Harry Potter premiere. Been busy, but you can just call me lazy if you wish. To compromise, this chapter is longer than usual. I have no clue how that happened either. So, here we go:
Last Time: Trunks dreamed of Pan (a kissy dream, woot), Pan proposes swimming lessons, but Trunks never sets foot in the water because a boy informs Pan that she is needed at the house where a visitor is. Trunks' fiancée gets a slap in the face (literally) by her master, when he discovers how much she is messing up with Trunks. Bulma is happy, therefore so is Vegeta.
"Pie Devil Returns"
King Vegeta drummed his finger almost lazily on the arm of his chair, only half listening as his advisors all murmured and grumbled amoungst each other. He was rather annoyed at this display of passive back talk, though knew full well it had been coming. What else were they to think when he informed him that his son's engagement was on hold, not for the fact that he was missing, but because he had decided to let Trunks choose his own girl to marry?
Eras of tradition were slipping away, and the murmurs did not seem to have an end. He knew that he would be faced with this, but also knew that in the end, it would be fine. It wouldn't be the destruction of their kingdom. He trusted his son... sort of.
Either way, if it meant Bulma being normal again, he would go for it. It had been a while, even before the whole dispute over love was brought up, that he had seen Bulma so happy. Her giggle fit that morning was solid proof of her conversion to happiness.
He was glad to see the frown off her face - it always did look out of place there.
Collectively, the mumbling died down, and he raised his eyes to the men surrounding the table, to await their gripes and qualms.
"Your majesty, tra-"
"I know. I don't care," he replied. He cast his eyes to each man seated, slowly, trying to deceiver who was for and who was disagreeing with him. He was honestly surprised to see many appearing in favour of his decision. Either he was losing his touch, his councilors had become experts at emotion masking, or they really did agree with him. He wasn't sure which would be worse.
It was a man he could place as Koslin that spoke up. Koslin was one of his more trusted, and he was more prone to listen to what he had to say. The man took in a sniff of air and coughed roughly into his hand. Vegeta waited with mild distaste, watching the man his son had dubbed 'the hermit' from an early age, and as far as he knew still referred to him as such.
"Your Majesty's command has some deep merit to it," he spoke in a rather squeaky voice. A few heads from the assembled council turned to look at Koslin, as if waiting explanation. He gave it to them. "With a loved queen at the Prince's side, it will give two rulers to the land, not just a political figure head. Two heads are better than one, they say."
Most members nodded in agreement, and Vegeta found himself raising his eyebrows and leaning back. He had thought that his decision would arise lengthy controversy, but it appeared that it might be an easy road after all.
Things were looking up.
Now, if only he knew where his son was...
Pan and Trunks walked in decent silence, not awkward yet not pleasant either. The messenger boy was trotting a small ways ahead, so had they felt the need for conversation, Pan was sure they could have pulled off a muttered one, but had in mind that the certain boy walking ahead of her already thought she was a bit off, and didn't want to confirm his suspicions in any which way.
Besides, she wasn't sure there was anything really to talk about. She vaguely wondered if they would ever make their way back to the pool for a swim, but in the long run it wouldn't really matter anyway. The prince showed no immense desire to learn to swim, though she had been looking forward to watching him attempt it. But a visitor was a visitor, as the boy had said, and since she was the head of the land at the moment, it was her job to greet them. No matter who it was or what they wanted, and no matter that she had been in the middle of coaxing a cursed royal to walk in fish water.
She frowned slightly. She would get Trunks in the water, some time. She just had to, if only for pure amusement's sake.
As they neared the house, she caught Trunks sidetracking on his own path, heading the other way, seemingly not interested in who was at her home. She didn't much mind, in fact, she hadn't really wanted him present while she had to be professional anyway. The boy that had brought the message had gone back to whatever work he had been doing previous, so Pan walked into her kitchen, where she had been told the visitors awaited.
Upon stepping in, she felt her jaw clench unconsciously, and willingly bid her eyes to keep from narrowing. While the man that stood apart from the other three he had brought along with him, was no stranger, and had never been a real threat to her, she did not share an immense love for the man.
Dark eyes gazed at her as she walked in, leaving the door open, and gave a slight nod to her head by way of greeting.
"Miss Pan. How good to see you again. I trust you're well."
"Yes. And yourself?" Pan countered, with force niceties. The man reached up and rubbed his short beard in thought.
"Well enough," he said softly. "You left awfully quickly yesterday. I was worried something was wrong." Pan raised her eyebrows. She had left early yesterday, naturally, from the meeting where Trunks was being his usual charming self. Why did he take such particular notice?
"I had other things to tend to," she partly lied.
"Of course. You, working all alone out here. You are coping?"
"Yes," Pan said, feeling her jaw clench again.
"Your dear uncle was kind enough to inform us, that apparently, your farm is no longer in danger of the king's grips."
"He is right."
"Ah, but how can you be sure? Pan, I offer you the security you need. The security that your family may not be able to provide for much longer."
"Everything is taken care of."
"Oh, Pan, Pan, Pan. Do you still refuse my offer?"
"I've never considered otherwise."
"You don't really have a choice in the matter, you know."
"Oh?"
"You can't hide behind your father forever. The law is the law," he said, eyes bearing into her, taking strides towards her. The other men in the room were leaning leisurely against the far counters, watching the display. Pan was half-horrified to feel herself stepping backwards, towards the table, to keep the distance between herself and him.
She was being cornered like a mouse by the lion. The men in the back were chuckling at her.
"If you have no real business here, I suggest you leave," she said, keeping her voice calm, even if her knees were not.
"Oh, but Pan. I have every right to be here."
"Get out."
"I think not..." he said, smirking, and continuing to walk towards her.
Trunks stood, crouched, behind the counter, anxiously waiting. There were four women, in total, in the kitchen at the moment - all stuttering around like ants, baking and cleaning things.
A blueberry pie sat on the counter, slowly cooling from the oven. He could smell the freshly baked pastry from outside, and it had called to him. Collecting all of the training he had ever mastered at the castle, he cast his eyes around the room.
Alright. Woman One was washing out pans - her back was turned. Woman Two was chopping things at the table, she was facing sideways. Woman Three had her head stuck in a cupboard looking for something. Woman Four was opening the far windows. With a glance at Four (she was looking away) and a final one at Two (she was looking down at her knife), he grabbed the pie and dove behind the cupboard.
He waited, with held breath for a moment. Then another. No one was making a scream. They did not notice yet. Grinning happily to himself, he lost all pretense of being civilized and using utensils, and simply drove his fingers into the pie, pulling the dripping blue filling over his hand, and bringing it to his mouth.
It tasted divine and heavenly all at once. The pie almost melted down his throat, and he was all too eager to go for a second handful, and then a third, even a fourth. By then, the sweetness was taking effect, and he hesitated to eat anymore. He did not want to over indulge, or else he might get sick of pie and be put off of it for a few weeks. And that would be a tragic sin.
So, instead, he slowly got back to his feet and looked around the room again. Waiting for the four woman to be in positions of blindness, he placed the half-eaten pie back on the table, wiping his pie-covered hands on a near by rag. There. Breakfast was complete, and even better, it was pie. And the woman could not claim it was some devil. Surely there were children or other craved men that stole some of their pies. He could pass the blame to some of them.
Planning to stick to that lie, Trunks made his way to the main house where he knew Pan was meeting a visitor.
When he slipped through the already opened door, he looked at the visitor with recognition. A well-built, tall man stood with arms folded looking at Pan. His dark eyes, hair and beard made him identifiable as the same man that Trunks had seen in town just yesterday. He really only remembered him, because Trunks had taken a note to his appearance, as he was one of the men who had been staring at Pan when she had gone into the building that day. The man other than the one he had mistaken for her boyfriend.
Somehow, he knew immediately that this man was not exactly wanted. Whether it was the uncomfortable look he was giving Pan, or the fact that she herself was shifting her gaze uneasily around the room, it set his senses to alert, and quietly walked into the room.
With a quick look away from Pan, he saw that three other men had accompanied the recognizable one into the house. None of whom looked as if they worked for Pan. His eyes scanned over the newcomers slowly before one of them chose to speak up.
"Aw, just go for it, milord," he slurred, sounding slightly drunken. Bewildered as to what the man was talking about, he turned his gaze back to Pan, shocked at what he saw.
The bearded man had closed off whatever space had lied between the two and had Pan in his arms and, from what Trunks could see, was kissing her. He felt rather affronted that Pan was courting such a distasteful looking man, and somewhat jealous, knowing how Pan could kiss... even if it was only in a dream. He was about to turn away to spare himself the sight, until he realized something that changed the entire situation.
Pan was fighting back. With upraised eyebrows, he looked on as Pan attempted to push the man away with little succession. Whether he had known Pan or not, there was only one thing to do. If some man had the nerve to kiss a lady when not desired, they set themselves up to be dishonourably punished. Not waiting a second longer, though minding the build difference between the man and himself, he marched over, picking a wooden bowl up on the way, pulled back and swung.
In a flash the man had stumbled down to the floor, awkwardly rubbing his head. Trunks blinked at the shear damage the blow had done, and looked at the bowl in his hand with slight wonderment. He dropped the bowl quickly, aware of how a floating dish might look. The three men were frantically looking around the room, trying to figure out what had happened. The bearded man wasted no such time. He merely got to his feet and cast a venomous glare at Pan, almost as if he thought she were the one that had delivered the blow.
Pan looked somewhat fearful under his gaze, even more so when he brought back his hand. Ready to block the blow, Trunks dashed ahead, and was half-puzzled when the man stopped on his own accord. Instead, laughing, he took a hold of Pan's chin roughly, forced another kiss on her, before shoving her back at the wall. With another laugh towards his men, he nodded towards the door and they trooped out.
Trunks watched them go, refraining from casting a quizzical look to Pan who was leaning against the table, eyes cast wearily at the door, her form shaking slightly. Trunks locked the door firmly before turning to see if she was all right. He walked to where she stood, waiting for her to raise her eyes to his own.
"Are you okay?" he asked. She raised her eyes, chest heaving with lack of air from fear or exertion he did not know. She nodded shakily.
"Thanks, I don-" she paused mid-sentence, mouth forming her last word. "Did you eat any pie?"
Trunks' mouth twitched faintly before bringing a hand to his chest and staring at he with a mock disbelief. "I have just saved you from those wench-seeking hounds, yet you presume to accuse me. My good woman, you told me to keep away from your kitchens, and a prince does not go back on his word. I would sooner cast myself into a pit of flesh eating salamanders than to loose the trust of such a lovely lady, like yourself," he finished in the most innocent voice he could muster.
"Right," she replied. They stared at each other for a few seconds.
"I have pie filling all over my face, don't I?"
"Yes," she answered.
"Yeah."
"Though the imagery of the flesh eating salamanders was good."
"Was it?"
"Absolutely."
"Does that make up for me stealing a pie?"
"Absolutely."
"Really?"
"No."
Bulma walked leisurely through the gardens of the castle, mind vaguely wondering from subject to subject. There wasn't much to think about anymore. She had succeeded in what she had thought to be impossible, and was rather enjoying this low-brain level, un-stressful way of passing the day.
She knew that her husband was, if not already, laying down the law about her son to his advisors. She wondered how they would react. She was glad that she was not there to face whatever qualms they may bring up, and was not there to face Vegeta's rage when he decided that he had had enough with all the questionings.
Bulma liked the gardens. In fact, they were her gardens in every sense of the term, considering that she was the one they had been grown for. The beautiful flowers, trees and paths had not existed outside of the castle until she was queen and Vegeta had ordered her will be done. She had only wanted one thing - a garden. It was a large request, but for a queen what did it matter? That had been Vegeta's logic, she recalled. She continually looked back and couldn't help but pat herself on the back for the foresight of her wish. At the time she had wanted a garden just for the beauty sake of it, but as the years went by she used it for solace, relaxation and a place to think.
They all had their ways of thinking out their problems. Vegeta's father had taken to riding, she remembered. Sometimes he would be on his horse every single day. Vegeta himself liked to pace and fence. Likewise, Trunks was a pacer, though had a fond habit of sitting down with a pile of food when he was stressed out. Bulma was just wondering if you had to be born royal to be in the pacing habit, or if the two had just acquired it when she spotted someone else, in her garden, practicing the very art of what she had been pondering.
Walking closer to the clearing where she had sight of a person, Bulma lifted her skirts slightly so that they would not trail, and walked quickly through the damp grass. She came to an abrupt stop, dropping her skirts once she reached the edge of the stone patio where the person was pacing. Round and round the patio she walked, chewing on a finger nail, face contorted in concentration.
Bulma lightly cleared her throat.
The pacer stopped immediately, and looked quickly to see who had intruded on her. Light blue eyes met stormy ones. Bulma gave a small smile to the blonde girl that she recognized as Trunks' fiancée. The girl seemed to try an compose herself all at once, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ears, shifting her weight to stand tall, and linking her hands behind her back.
"Your majesty," she said softly by way of greeting. Bulma nodded to her, throwing a nod towards the stone bench near by. The girl sat down without objection, carefully spreading her skirts about her. Bulma joined her.
"You seem troubled," Bulma started, feeling at ease to talk with this girl, considering that she was going to be her daughter-in-law... well... if by chance Trunks decided to marry her. It was her doing that could make this girl loose the chance at the crown, and she had always seemed rather nice to Bulma. There was no sense not being kind to her now.
The blonde made a slight noise of agreement.
"The prince is missing," she said softly, absentmindedly dashing fingers across her cheek. Bulma stared at her, making an effort to figure the girl out.
"Yes. But I'm sure he'll be back soon."
"I agree," she replied, replacing her hand to her lap. Bulma squinted at her, unsure of what she was seeing.
"Your cheek... did someone-"
"An accident," the blonde answered quickly. The queen nodded slowly. The young princess was shifting her stormy blue eyes from tree to tree, not looking for something in particular, but almost as if she were avoiding making eye contact. There was something almost unearthly about this girl. The way she composed herself, the way she answered things, her eyes... Bulma wasn't sure where they were formed, but the words simply poured form her mouth without her consent;
"You know where Trunks is, don't you." A statement. Shaking her head immediately, she apologized. There was no way the girl could know where he was, or else she wouldn't be worrying. Unless she knew and it was somewhere dangerous, and that was the cause of her worry. Or maybe-
"I know little more than you, your majesty. I do not have any knowledge of his exact whereabouts, but I do have a feeling. A feeling that he is safe and that he will be back as soon as he can."
Bulma nodded. She wasn't sure what to make of the girl, though she had it in mind to stay and try and glimpse more of her behaviour. However, any plans to make the girl a study were dashed by the distant ringing of a bell, informing her Vegeta had left assembly. Pardoning herself, she swept away from the girl, casting one final look back, unable to shake off the feeling that the girl was hiding something.
Hiding something big.
There was an awkward silence as Trunks gazed quietly at Pan, while she herself pulled out a chair from the table and sunk into it. She was carefully avoiding his eye, attempting to prolong the slew of remarks he was no doubt formulating in his mind. Remarks that he would most assuredly find humorous, but would be tactless to her and what had passed.
Pan didn't mind Trunks having fun with her. She made fun of him enough too, didn't she? But there were times when taunting humor just wasn't necessary, and this was surely one of them. To have that man show up in her house, taunt her a bit, then leave with an extremely unwanted kiss, was not her idea of a perfect morning. The fact that she had the prince standing in her kitchen, having witnessed most of the ordeal, was even worse. She was simply waiting for him to open his big mouth and say something stupid.
And so, she was rather surprised at what he said.
"Do you have any berries?" he asked thoughtfully. She dumbly pointed towards a cupboard on the far side of the room, and watched as he walked over and began to searching through the contents. Typical of him to think of food when nothing of importance was going on. Better food than her, she supposed.
She was only mildly paying attention to what Trunks was rummaging around for, thoughts more settled down, her gaze staring vacantly out the window.
Why had he come? That stupid man. He never came around directly to the house before. He probably knew that her father would not hold for such things, though, in truth, he had been right. He did have some twisted authority to be here.
Mind on the visitor, she found herself jumping slightly when Trunks appeared at her side, a bowl of berries in his hand. He sat down in a chair near her, nudging the bowl towards her. She looked down at the blackish berries in question. If he wanted her to eat those, he was mistaken. They were used for slight flavouring, and too bitter to really eat alone.
"You should have some," he said to her, eyes looking from her face to the bowl expectantly. She shook her head slowly.
"They don't taste very good," she replied.
"I know," he said with a tone of sadness. She raised her eyebrows - and just why was he trying to feed her bitter berries? "But the juice helps to stop swelling, you know. He pointed at her mouth as if it were obvious.
"He didn't hit me," she said, wondering if he thought the man had followed through with his wind back. "He only kissed-"
"And none too gently, I'm sure," Trunks went on, pushing the bowl more towards her. "If your lips get all bruised, you won't be able to talk for days."
"It was just a kiss," Pan whispered, slightly awed at his apparent concern. Trunks shrugged.
"Sometimes little things upset the body. Especially unwanted things." Shaking her head, a small smile forming on her face, Pan reached for a berry.
"Thank you," she said softly. He shrugged again.
"So, who was that guy?" he said, asking the question she was waiting for him to pose. She shifted in her chair, chewing on another sour berry.
"His name is Keipher," she responded simply. Trunks shot her a glare, unsatisfied with her answer.
"He seems rather piggish to waltz in and kiss you out of nowhere. I assume you two have a history. What, did you court him in the past? Because honestly, you could do better," Trunks said, seriously. Pan grinned for a moment, before shaking her head.
"Actually, my mother is the one with a history with him. They were betrothed." Trunks shot his eyes up at this.
"You mean you had a fling with your mother's old would-be husband!"
"Ew, no. I had no 'fling' at all with him."
"But the two were betrothed. And I am assuming that he's not your father. If not, what happened to the betrothal? If so, you have bigger problems than I thought."
Pan laughed.
"Mom fell in love with Dad. Naturally, my mom and Keipher were bound by the law to marry unless he wanted the arrangement off."
"And he did?"
"I doubt it. But he didn't want to marry her if she had eyes for someone else. Whether he was too proud, too offended, or just didn't want to have to constantly watch over a miserable wife to make sure she wasn't off casting eyes at my Dad... I don't know. But he released her from the bond."
"So... where does the whole 'kissing you' come into play?"
"Well, the contract is still there. See, he was generous in letting my Mom go, but the betrothal was never officially broken. So..."
"My Gods. So technically, your mother passed the betrothal down to you."
"Unintentionally, of course."
"So you have to marry that guy?"
"If he wants me, yes."
Trunks stared.
"But... you don't love him."
"Of course not."
"Well, what about that whole speech you have last night? Love and life, and all."
"Love is wonderful, but it can't really go against the law. As I'm sure you know," she said, somewhat bitterly, casting him a look. He raised his hands in defense.
"Hey, betrothal laws were made up way before my time," he said. Then, "But you said he didn't want to marry your mother because he didn't want a miserable wife. If he marries you, won't you be miserable?"
"Most likely."
"Then-"
"But I'm not already in love, you see. He'll just have a miserable wife, not a miserable wife in love with another man."
"Oh."
"Um hmm."
"Well, can't you fight the law?" he demanded. Pan raised her eyebrows again.
"My father did. Your father wouldn't budge." Trunks opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, at a loss for words.
"Is that why you hated me?" he asked quietly.
"It was one of the reasons I disliked you, yes."
"Well... I do owe you for whenever you do break my curse. I'm sure I can help you out of your engagement to lusty boy there."
A wide smile spread over Pan's face.
"Really?" she asked, surprised. Trunks nodded, almost unhinged by the smile that covered her face. "That's... that's very kind of you," she said, respectfully.
"It doesn't really have anything to do with kindness. More so, that if I knew you were married to that guy, and knew the things you would be doing beyond good night smooches..." he broke off into a shudder. "Little Panny and Lust Oldness just don't mix."
Pan giggled quietly.
"Don't call me 'Panny'," she said lightly, tossing a berry at his face, teasingly.
She grinned at him, all traces of her once fear and discomfort of the early confrontation, disappeared.
And Trunks grinned back.
She hadn't moved from her spot in the garden since the Queen had left. Swinging her feet lightly, she freely spent the morning sitting on the stone bench beneath the willow tree.
She could faintly feel the soreness of her bruise coming back, but disregarded the pain. It wasn't horrible, and truly wasn't worth any fuss. Besides, she imagined that others were in more pain at the moment anyhow.
Not for the first time, her thoughts turned towards her dear fiancé, and wondered what he was doing at the moment. She was quite sure that he had found Pan already. She wondered if he and the girl Pan were still bickering like cats and dogs. She wondered if she was ignoring him, or he her. She wondered if they were friends. Mostly, she wondered when they would return. Oh, she knew the day they would be back, she had told her master this as well, but knowing the time didn't stop her from wondering when it would get there.
Like an anxious child on their birthday, knowing full well that their gifts will be presented to them after dinner, still hop from foot to foot around the kitchen - wondering when it will be time. She had much the same urge herself, to fidget around the castle until he came marching home. To skip through the halls, or stare at the sun as it slowly circled the sky awaiting for it to make its numbered cycles. It was insane how the time drifted. It was maddening how everything she had plotted was falling exactly in place, yet to pieces at the same time.
Her master suspected her, no, he knew she was up to something. Knew that she was bending the rules and finding loopholes to try and escape him. And he was angered by it. But what did he expect? You could not bind a free lady like herself to someone and expect that they will not try and rebel. Their very nature is that of innocence and light magic, they do not pursue other arts because they have no wish to divulge into deeper powers.
By being bound to someone of an opposite field... it was just crazy. It gnawed at her. Begged at her to get free of him. The very essence that gave her power was weary of him; her master. She wanted to be free of him with every ounce of her soul and mind. If she had to sacrifice a few pawns - so be it.
Though with any luck, it wouldn't be necessary.
She was barely conscious of the mild scowl that framed her features as she thought about her imprisonment, nor was she aware of someone else's presence until they made it known.
"Do not frown, your face might get stuck that way. Then the prince would not want to marry you at all. Not that he will now," came the voice. She looked up, startled, and was deeply surprised to see who stood in front of her. Jumping to her feet, her blue eyes danced up and down his figure, almost varying that the man in front of her was whom she thought it was.
The very man she had been thinking about. The very man that forced her to do his bidding. The very man that had her in this entire predicament. But... he never talked to her during the day.
She raised an eyebrow at him.
"Things are very muddled up, and I have no doubt that it's your doing," he continued, glaring at her with the most spite she had ever seen cross his features. Ashamed, she found herself starting to be vaguely frightened.
"I have done nothing," she defended. "Lately," she added, from the glare he shot her.
"Yes, well then, I assume that the Queen and yourself spoke of this 'nothing' earlier today?" he questioned, eyes angered slits. His breathing was ragged, and he seemed livid. This, when thought about, was a good thing. The more calm he appeared, the more angry he truly was. So, in reality, since he seemed mad with rage, he probably wasn't too upset at all. Perhaps he had a small pebble in his shoe, nothing like the boulder of last night when he... she half consciously brushed her fingers over the bruise. No. This would be fine. Whatever he was ranting about, he already had a solution to it, so she would just have to take the blunt of his fuming and be done with it.
"The Queen and I talked aboutthe prince's disappearance. Whether that is something or nothing, is really based on personal opinion," she commented in her most sing-song voice. His glare did not improve.
"I'm sure. Then I suppose it's simply coincidence that the King announced today that the Prince is not obligated to marry you anymore, despite tradition. The Prince may choose his bride as he sees fit."
She could not help but her jaw droop slightly. Not wanting to let him see her surprise, she clamped her mouth and thought to change the subject.
"How do you know what the King said?"
"It's my job to know. Furthermore, you must have said something about love or feelings or some more of your foolish nonsense, which she then passed on to her husband. That's the only way the King would ever proclaim such idiocy - if the Queen pulled his arm."
"You should be careful how you speak of the royal family," she replied lightly, pleased to see him cast a worried glance around. "And you flatter me to say that I could convince the Queen on something and then she him, in the matter of a few hours. If what you say is true, I do not doubt the Queen was working on him for weeks, if not months."
"You deny playing a role in this?"
She did not answer.
"It doesn't matter. The prince will marry you no matter what."
"I doubt it. If he's to marry for love, what makes you think he'll choose me?"
"Because..." he said softly, in a droopy voice that made her take a step backwards. "You are going to make him. You do know how to create a simple love spell, do you not, my dear?"
He smiled, a sick toothy smile.
And she could sense her plans crumbling around her.
Righto. Thanks.
Angel Eevee