Jack slammed the door behind him with enough force to rattle the hinges. Kloppman would be at him for that, no doubt. He had threatened to take down all the doors if they didn't stop slamming them, and if he was anywhere within three blocks, he would have heard the latest transgression.
He paced back and forth in the small room, only being able to make two full strides before turning around again. He had to do something, he just couldn't stay still.
None of his was a rat, he told himself definitively and with a finality that should have closed the matter.
But a tugging feeling kept him from being as certain as his words sounded. What if it was true? He sat down slowly, going over what had happened again and again, trying to make sense of it. It didn't make sense though, no matter which way he put it together.
Race and Blink going at each other was something he was willing to accept, everybody had an off day now and then. But Race going so far as to call Blink a scab. . . in front of everyone with no regret and a hell of a lot of conviction. It just didn't sit well with Jack. He knew Race and Race wouldn't do that, not to Blink of all people.
He knew Blink as well. Or, he thought he did up until now. But there had been something off about him for the past few days. Something he hadn't been able to explain.
Blink didn't even try to defend himself. How was he supposed to defend Blink if he wouldn't do it himself?
It was just too much to deal with. Jack closed his eyes and let his head fall to the back of the chair.
A few moments later, the iron knob of the door creaked loudly as it was turned. He couldn't even think in peace anymore. Why couldn't everyone just solve their own problems?
Jack didn't look up to see who it was, he didn't have to. It was Spot. He was the only one that would have entered without giving the courtesy of a knock. He walked around like he owned the joint and no doubt he probably thought he could if he wanted to.
Jack sat up and rubbed the dullness from his eyes. He didn't want to deal with Spot, but knew it was inevitable. He just hoped he could get through it without decking him. Spot would jump at the chance to remind Jack how vulnerable he was, though he wouldn't say it. A look or a smile was all he needed to get under Jack's skin.
Spot opened the door without bothering to close it behind him as he walked in. He nodded to Jack wordlessly and bent down to pick up his hat and cane.
"If ya don't hear from me in of couple days, send someone over," he said in the way of a goodbye as he stood.
"Where you goin'?" Jack asked with slight suspicion, following him with his eyes as he moved back to the door. Spot never made anything that easy.
"I gotta take care of somethin," he replied simply as he pulled on his hat.
"What do ya gotta-" Jack started absently, wondering what would be so urgent. He fell silent as his mind answered it for him. He looked over to Spot quickly, catching him before he got out the door.
"Spot." Jack stopped him, the word sounding harsher to his ears than he intended.
Spot stopped but didn't turn his head, "What?"
"Don't touch 'im."
Spot didn't answer.
"I want your word on it," Jack insisted as he rose from his chair. His voice was quietly demanding, Spot's silence telling him they were very much on the same page.
Spot's clear eyes finally turned to Jack, hiding nothing. It was then Jack knew Spot had every intention of taking care of Blink without so much as telling him. Jack set his jaw as he fought the rising anger in his throat. The bastard. The lousy bastard.
"I can't do that," Spot replied matter-of-factly with out the slightest bit of hesitation.
So it was true, he didn't even have the decency to lie about it. The kid had balls, Jack would give him that. Spot had gone too far already by assuming he had any right to Blink. This was Manhattan's business and Spot was messing with it. Jack would be damned if he let him get away with it.
"Give me your word, Spot," Jack repeated, the edge in his voice even more pronounced as he took a step forward. There was a desperation creeping into his words that he could feel, though he struggled to keep it from showing.
He now realized that he had made the worst decision he could have. Sending Blink out into the street was like sending him out to the wolves. By wanting to distance him from the problem, Jack had distanced him from the only protection he had. He hadn't been thinking. He cursed himself inwardly.
"No," Spot replied, instinctively taking a step toward Jack to meet the challenge in his stance.
They stood within a foot of each other in silent confrontation. It was a harsh silence. Jack stared at Spot, the resentment and anger spilling from his eyes. If he could soak him right then, he would have. But it wasn't that simple and they both were well aware of it.
Though Spot met his eyes evenly, he kept his expression relaxed, almost as if he was waiting for Jack to tire of the whole thing. Even though he knew he had crossed the line, he still thought he could get away with it. Damn lousy bastard. He actually thought he would get away with it.
"You got no right to him and you know that. Until I tell ya different, you're gonna treat 'im like he's one of mine. You got me?" Jack cut into the silent tension that was building between them. He wanted to wipe that look from Spot's face, the one that said he had the right to go after anyone or thing he chose.
"Why Jacky, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you've been growin' a spine," Spot said with more than a note of condescension before he let a small smile escape his lips.
Jack hated that smile. He had seen Spot irrepressibly full of rage and blindly vengeful, but it was when he saw that smile that he felt the most unease. It meant Spot had all the cards and knew who would win the hand.
But Jack wouldn't let him win this one. It was too important. Blink was too important. If Spot got his hands on him…Jack didn't even want to think about it. He knew he had to though, Spot wouldn't give up simply because he was deterred. He would find another way, he always found another way.
"If you or any of your boys even look at him the wrong way, you're on your own," Jack said finally. It was a serious threat and not an idle one. If Spot wanted Manhattan's support, he would have to back off. It was his last card and he had no regrets in throwing it down. It was the only thing Spot was would listen to, there was no way he could ignore it.
Spot's eyes flashed suddenly and almost imperceptibly, but Jack caught it. He had got his attention sure enough. Whether it was in disbelief that he would chose the side of a traitor or the idea that he would so openly challenge him, Jack didn't know. All he needed to know was that Spot wasn't happy.
"You're playin' dangerous, Jack. Dangerous and stupid," Spot returned, his voice finally giving way to a trace of emotion. He spoke with the certainty of one telling a small child that fire will burn. "The minute he steps outta Manhattan, he's mine. And I guarantee I ain't gonna be as friendly to him as I'm bein' to you."
He let his eyes bore into Jack's for a second longer, before he abruptly turned to the door.
Jack expected the door to slam shut, but it didn't. Instead he looked over to see Spot standing in the doorway.
"I can't let this go," Spot said, meeting Jack's eyes for an instant before he walked out.
Spot's words weren't regretful in any proper sense of the word, Jack had never seen Spot genuinely sorry for anything, but this was as close to an apology as he would ever get. He was warning Jack to be ready for what would come when Blink finally left Manhattan.
No matter what kind of relationship he and Jack had, he wouldn't put it before his own safety. Blink had now become a threat to that safety and the safety of everyone that depended on him. Spot wasn't interested in guilt or innocence; they were the same in his eyes until it proved advantageous to treat them differently. It was in Spot's best interest to label Blink guilty and get rid of him.
One way or another, he would draw Blink out. Jack just had to be sure he got to him first.
He listened to Spot walk through the still hushed front room, hearing his feet hit the cobblestones and drifted into the night. It was only then that he left the room himself. If there was one thing that separated them it was Spot's predictability and Jack's lack of it. He knew Spot didn't have a real clue as to how he would react to this and he wanted to use that to his advantage. If Spot knew he was on the move, he would move all the faster himself.
He picked up his hat on his way to the front door, combing his hair back as he slipped it on his head.
What if it was true? That stupid voice returned and would not let itself be ignored. He was rushing to defend Blink, but what if Blink couldn't be defended? As much as he hated himself for the thought, he couldn't push it completely away. There was too much doubt.
Jack slowed before he reached the door, glancing to the stairs. Race would give it to him straight. He would tell him it was just a misunderstanding. Letting his hat fall to his back, Jack impulsively moved to the stairs.
Race would settle it.
Blink muttered audibly as his feet hit the street. Who did Jack think he was? Throwing him out, at night no less. Not only did he look like hell, but he was a kid, and that was a winning combination to land in jail for two weeks. Vagrancy, loitering, mischief. . . the official reason didn't matter. Looking like he did at night was just asking to be picked up.
He kicked a stray bottle with a jolt of frustration as he walked along slowly. It was his own fault and he knew it. Underneath the anger was a quiet regret that he wouldn't let surface yet. He knew he was wrong and that knowledge seemed to anger him further. Race only wanted to help him out, and how did he replay that concern? He soaked him. He'd turned away one of the only people that actually gave a damn about him.
He hadn't told Race the truth, hell, he hadn't told him anything. He'd let Race's imagination do the work. Traitor or not, his leaving was for the best. He didn't want to bring anyone else into his trouble. They could think what they wanted about him, but at least they would be safe.
Blink jammed his hands into his pockets and turned the corner. A second later he found himself ducking out of sight from a bull. He stood motionless just inside an alley, waiting for him to walk past. As he came closer, Blink pressed himself flat against the brick and edged his way further into the shadows. At this point, he didn't think he'd be able to make a run for it or get very far if he tried. His head was throbbing and just walking in a strait line was proving to be difficult.
He was too tired to keep going like he been for the past week. Almost a fight a day and not even a bed for his trouble. But he didn't expect things to go his way. They never did.
He edged his way along the wall deeper into the alley until he fell back into a doorway. A few rats darted out, but other than that it looked like nobody had decided to claim it for the night. He took a quick look around, just to be sure, before he moved to sit. It was a good a place as any to sleep.
A stabbing pain in his ribs caused him to straighten up again with a grimace. He'd forgotten about that one. God, Race could punch. He held his side carefully as he tried to find a comfortable way to stand. It was going to be a long night.
The air had a chill to it for the first time in weeks. One that he would be able to relish in all its glory for the whole night, he thought dryly. He'd rather go through five hellish summers than a month of the mildest winter.
The cold was what really got him. He pulled his collar up around his neck and put his hands into his pockets absently. There wasn't even a real change in the air around him, it was almost as stifling as it had been when the sun was out and he was still sweating the same as he had been all week. It didn't matter though, even the idea of the cold was enough to send a familiar shiver down his back
It was just one of those things, he couldn't help it. Some kids slept with their shoes on, one kid wouldn't curse on Sundays, and he couldn't help but shiver even when he was just thinking about the cold. They were little quirks that were joked about but weren't talked about seriously. He didn't need to talk about it, though, he thought about it enough already.
He had been only nine or ten when he was out on his own for the first time. God, had it been that long?
He could still feel the bitter cold of the first nights that he had spent in empty doorways and under park benches. His family had always been poor, but at least they had a stove to burn whatever they could find. That was his job, he was supposed to keep the fire going for his mother to sew by and his father to sleep by.
One night he must not have found enough to keep it going. He awoke with a shiver and saw that the fire had gone out. In the pale moonlight, he saw that his mother had fallen asleep while mending, her needle in mid-stitch. Crawling over to her, he shook her elbow. He knew she would have to finish the work for the morning or risk not getting paid. She didn't wake, though, no matter how hard he shook her.
He thought it was a game, so he laughed, pulling her limp arms around him in a hug. But she didn't move. He cried for her to wake, tugging at her dress, but she didn't stir. He told her that if she loved him she would open her eyes. But they didn't open.
The next day his father left. A dead wife and a half-blind boy wasn't anything worth staying for, he said. Sitting next to his mother, holding her hand in his, Blink watched as his father walked out the door. He didn't even say goodbye.
He thought he had felt cold before, but nothing compared to that first winter.
That winter he had let himself be caught by the bulls a few times just to get the small amount of warmth the Refuge could offer. He stole what little food he could manage, but the street vendors had disappeared until warmer weather and the wary shopkeepers wouldn't let him through the door.
It got so bad, he had a bet going with another kid to see who would starve or freeze to death first. He won. One morning the other kid just didn't wake up. Blink didn't remember his name, but he was a good kid. Didn't deserve to die because he couldn't afford shoes or a coat, that's for sure.
It was the next day, or maybe it was that same day, when Greene had found him in a doorway. He asked him if he had a place to stay. Blink had only shook his head. Greene just smiled and offered his hand.
If he had only known then what taking that hand meant, he would have ran with all the life that remained in him.
But all he could think about was the possibility of food. If you asked him then if he'd rather have a hundred dollars or a roast beef sandwich, he would have taken the sandwich without regret. Hunger had its own mind. Maybe that's why he ignored the sense that was telling him to take his chances on his own.
He quickly fell into selling papers, Greene said he did it like he was born to. Of course, he said that to a lot of people, but Blink could tell he meant it when he said it to him.
That's what he found out Greene did, sell papers; that and a lot of other things. It would be a few months before he found out what those other things were and wished he had the sense to stick to papers. A quick nickel was what lured him into it at first, the idea of having a blanket of his own and getting one of those fancy pretzels he saw the rich kids eating on Saturdays. They were stupid reasons to do what he did, but he was a stupid kid back then.
Greene would tell him his part, sit him down and explain it until he could repeat it back by heart. Once he proved he could do the small things, like run messages back and forth without getting caught, Greene started to include him with the older kids. The bigger the risk, the bigger the pay off, Greene said each time Blink came back successful. But every time he did something right, Greene only expected more and Blink didn't want to disappoint him. So he did what he was told without question.
He'd soaked people he never even met, he'd stole from other kids worse off than him. He'd done some things that would put the Delancys to shame. All for what? A dime or two and the acceptance of people who only wanted to use him for what he was worth.
But that was where Greene really shined. If he wanted you to rob some kid on the corner, he would sit you down and tell you that kid had stolen the pennies from a beggar and he wanted to return them. Anything you needed to hear. And to a ten year old, his word was the unshakable truth. He had this way of getting people to do what he wanted, convince them to "see it his way." He was kind of like Spot in that respect, but he was always smiling and friendly about it. After talking to him for five minutes, you'd swear you knew him for years. He could talk a mother into giving up her child, that's what they always said anyway.
Blink never guessed that under that friendly smile, Greene was nothing more than snake. It was only after he fell and the rumors began that Blink found out half of what Greene did, what he was part of. The notes he ran to the different territories weren't for meetings, they were threats and demands. The kids he messed with weren't guilty of anything more than disagreeing with Greene or not paying up fast enough.
He was too young to understand it then. Or at least that's what he told himself. It lessened the pain to hide behind ignorance. But even as a kid, he knew what murder was, he knew the knives they had him drop in the river didn't turn red on their own.
Word came one night that Greene was dead, killed by some of his own. Blink didn't know what could have happened that would have caught Greene off guard. He had always been so careful. No one needed any other explanation, though, and by the morning there were five more ready to take his place.
With Greene gone, Blink could have chosen to stay and fight it out with the others or leave and start again. He left as soon as he got the opportunity. His eyes had seen too much and his mind wouldn't give him peace.
So he walked as far as he could one afternoon, picking the direction that had the least traffic. He ended up in Manhattan, or that's what the nearest kid said. Didn't look much older than him, maybe eleven. Later, he found out that kid's name was Racetrack. They used to be the same height back then, Blink smiled at the thought.
Blink did what he knew he could make a living doing, selling papers. But Manhattan was different, they smiled when they worked and didn't keep their heads down. They weren't at each other's throats for an empty bunk or a half-eaten sandwich. What really got him though, was that they talked and laughed with each other like they were friends. Not the kind that he had before that would watch your back if there was something in it for them, but real friends.
He had found it hard to trust them in the beginning. He knew what trust meant. It meant you were willing to give up a part of yourself and risk losing it. He had lost so much of himself already he wasn't sure how much was left.
But they didn't want anything from him. If they gave him food, it was because he was hungry, not because they wanted him to act as lookout for a robbery that night. It was hard to get used to it at first, he kept expecting the day to come when he would have to return the favor.
He would get in fights over little, stupid things, almost to see if there was an end to the patience they showed him. He wanted to find a crack in the illusion that would let him see who they truly were. They didn't have to put up with him, but they did. They threw him out every other week, but never denied him a bed if needed it. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't find the crack he was looking for.
God, he was a real piece of work back then. He still carried that reputation of being quick-tempered even after all these years.
No matter how many times he got thrown out, he always returned.
Race would just laugh at him when he came back.
"Tough day, kid?" he would say as he shuffled his cards with a smile.
"What's it to you?" Blink would snap back.
"Nothin,'" Race would continue to smile.
Blink would usually leave it at that, convinced in his own mind that he had one the battle. But there never was any battle, something he only realized later. Race was just humoring him. In the short time they had known each other, Race already had him figured out. He had a knack for reading people. They were just like cards, he had said once, no matter where you go they stayed the same. They might look a little different, but they did the same thing.
Race was one of the only people that kept trying with him, before Mush came a few months later. No matter what he did or who he managed to piss off, Race would just give him that sarcastic smile and shuffle his cards.
Blink wondered what was so damn interesting about that pile of paper, and one day, when he was in a more conversational mood, he asked. Race looked at him like he had just insulted his mother
It wasn't a 'pile of paper,' it was a deck of cards, Race had corrected him, only with a bit more colorful language.
Cards would keep you from being lonely, earn you dinner, and make you enemies, he explained as he dealt a game of poker for four. Blink just looked at him with an uncertainty he hadn't shown in a long time.
"What? You gonna stand there gawkin' at me like I'm the Queen of Sheba, or you gonna sit down and play?" Race said. He could still here Race saying that, it was something he had remembered after all this time.
He had played of course, he wasn't going to let Race show him up. But he was getting into a situation he couldn't win, he didn't know it at the time, but Race sure did. Race had taken him down a few notches that day and the day after that.
Race would play three of the hands and Blink would sit and concentrate on his one. He learned by watching. Race never told him the rules and he never asked.
So they would sit and play cards. For hours they would play, not for money, just for company. They talked about the track or the latest stories circulating around the house, it didn't matter really. Over a few scraps of paper spread out on a bunk, he had learned to trust Race. But it went beyond that. He had gotten something he hadn't expected and wasn't looking for. Race had become his friend.
Over the years he had tried to forget everything about his life before he came to Manhattan. It was an easy thing to do when you didn't want to remember. He had become so comfortable that even in such a changeable way of life, he felt secure. He had people that cared whether or not he came in at night, he had people that would back him up and lend him a few papers if he needed them. It was a rare thing to have in a city that was so often cold. He knew how lucky he was, and every morning he woke up and thanked God for it. He would feel the blanket underneath him and the smell of smoke as Race and Mush shared a cigarette to start the day, and he would remind himself how great he really had it.
Then it all changed.
In the space of two weeks, the years had melted away like nothing more than a good dream. The uncertainty, the memories, everything he thought he had let go, came rushing back.
Greene was back, the rumors said.
Word was sent silently over the streets, seeking out the former loyal. Greene was looking to get back what had and who he had. It was both inviting and threatening at once. Whoever rejoined him would be welcomed without question, who ever didn't would fall out of his "protection." For most it had been an easy decision: return or risk being caught alone in an alley somewhere. But for Blink it hadn't been so easy.
He knew Greene was going to go up against Brooklyn and that it would only be a matter of time before Manhattan became involved. There was no way he would ever stand against the only friends he had ever had in this world. He knew the consequences would be swift and final, but that was how desperate he was not to lose the second chance he had been given.
So they came and he answered.
They came again, saying that Greene had decided to give him another chance. He answered again.
They tried to change his mind, but he wouldn't listen. He'd gotten away with only a few scrapes that time, but it was just a warning and he knew it.
It wasn't like Greene to give anyone a second chance unless it suited his purpose. Blink knew Greene must have found out that he was close to Jack. He was worth more alive to him than dead, and that was probably the only reason he was still breathing.
The third time they found him, Race did too. He saw the betrayal in Race's eyes and it bit into him more than he ever could have imagined. But he let Race believe what he wanted, he didn't explain himself or offer excuses. He didn't know why exactly. Race was his friend and you were supposed to trust friends. And he did trust Race.
But it was better to push him away than to have him turn away.
He supposed part of him didn't want to remind them who he really was, what he felt was hiding just below his smiling exterior. He knew had changed. . . but what if he really hadn't? What if he was that same kid that would do anything if the price was right?
It was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Deciding to leave the only place he had ever truly felt like he belonged hurt him as punching Race had. It hurt him as much to listen to Race call him a scab and mean it. One of the only people that had ever cared about him now hated him.
He had fought Race with all of his hurt, his anger and the memory of everything he was losing.
Everything that was lost, he reminded himself. It was gone now.
He opened his eyes quickly, trying to fight back the wave of regret that came over him.
He held his breath as he heard the unwelcome sound of another pair of footsteps come closer. He hoped it wasn't that bull again. For once, he honestly didn't want to make any trouble, he just wanted to rest for five minutes.
But he knew he wouldn't be that lucky. More likely it was one of Greene's boys. They had been following him for the past few days, just far enough away to be uncomfortable and noticed. He had that same feeling as he had left the house earlier, like someone had been following him. He should have gone to Central Park, at least there he wouldn't have been alone and such an easy target.
The footsteps slowed as they approached the mouth of the alley and gradually stopped. He could see the shadow of a figure stretch past him as it stood motionless in the street light. He pulled himself back into the doorway as much as he could, trying to conceal himself in the darkness.
The footsteps began again slowly. But they weren't continuing on their way, they were coming towards him.
He swore to himself and worked his hand gingerly, trying to rid himself of the pain. He didn't know if he could win another fight, he was barely standing up straight as it was. As the figure came closer, he pushed any doubt from his mind. If he had to fight, he would win. It wasn't a question.
As the figure approached, he tensed and waited for it to pass. When it came into view he drew in a quick breath and threw himself against the person with all the strength he could manage and knocked them back against the opposite wall. The impact jarred his sore muscles with a screaming burst of pain, but he bit it back and kept his ground.
"What's the matter, don't you got ears? I told you to leave me alone," he said, pinning the figure against the brick. If Greene was wanted to take him down, he was going down proud.
"Watch yourself, Kid," a familiar voice warned him as the figure shoved him off.
Blink stumbled back a few steps as he tried to hold on to his balance.
"Sorry, I-I wasn't expectin' no one," he managed as he caught his breath, that one action taking almost all of his energy, "Sorry, Spot."
He apologized more to save his own skin than out of any sentiment. Few people laid a hand on Spot and were still around to talk about it. He dropped his offensive stance and backed away until he hit the wall again, partly to use it as support and partly to get as far away from Spot as he could. He could feel the blood pounding in his head and wanted nothing more than to collapse and be done with it.
"You alright?" Spot asked without sympathy. He could see Spot watching him from the light of the street. His eyes weren't kind though, and didn't express concern; it was almost as if he was trying to figure out if Blink was in good enough shape to make a run for it or not.
"Yeah," Blink replied, keeping his voice as steady as he could. He knew Spot was looking for weakness and that made him all the more resolute not to show it.
"Good, 'cause you and me is gonna have a little talk," Spot told him.
Blink closed his eyes and swallowed. This was not good.
Jack probably sent Spot out because he didn't want to do it himself. He had thought Jack would have at least given him a day to get out of Manhattan. But maybe friendship didn't count for as much as he thought it did. He couldn't say he wasn't expecting it, if he were Jack he would have done the same thing.
Well, at least the night would be shorter than he thought, he told himself with a smile that was lost in the darkness.
A/n: A very special thank you to studentnumber24601 for reading this chapter over for me, if you haven't read her stories, I strongly suggest you take a look-sie, they are really quite wonderful. (And she promises there shall be more :0) )
Thank you to everyone for the reviews, you guys have a special place in my heart. Specifically the part that encourages me to keep writing… it's just under the left ventricle ;0)
24601- More fights..makes note Blink!muse and Race!muse run for cover :0) Ahhh. . .its all worth it when someone discovers latent hotness in Jack, if I have reached one person, my job has been done :0) Thank you so much for your help on this chap ( and I'm so going to keep telling you every chance I get :0) )
Geometrygal- Hehehe, glad you enjoyed, everyone needs a good fight scene now and then :0) I seem to remember that a certain boy is still hanging from a cliff in the middle of a baseball field somewhere! Oh that wasn't too subtle was it? Thank you for your review :0)
hilaRyB- Mmmmm. . .pineapple. . .Thank you for your review :0) I very much enjoyed your story, it had such a great tension between Jack and Spot. I'm really very glad to hear that the characters are working properly, it made my day :0)
elensiluva- Welcome to the fantabulous newsieverse! Blink!muse gives elensiluva her first newsie cap hehehe :0) I'm so glad you liked the story, if suspense is what you like, you'll be getting a lot more of it :0) Thank you for your review! I hoped you liked this part :0)
Lanni-:0) I'm so glad you enjoyed! I'm enjoying having you enjoy the story ( ok, too many 'enjoys' back the there :0) ) Thank you for reading and thank you so much for reviewing.
Bottles- Thank you! Hehe, good ole' Spot, but not too good for Blink ;0) secretive!spot twirls imaginary moustache Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this part, Torturedpast!Blink and Secretive!Spot do too :0)
Spotten One- I have perfected the "stealth post" hehehe No worries my darlin' :0) I know how it is, especially with all those wonderful fics you've been turning out. I'm so glad you enjoyed the chap and I hope you enjoyed this one too :0)
Jenn C- Here is it! Not too long of a wait was it:0) Thank you so much for your kind words and letting me know you were reading and enjoying :0)
As always, thank you for reading!