Worlds Apart Chapter 3

Hardly aware of the morning's sunlight on the brilliant-colored leavesoutside the sunroom's French doors, Clarisse buttered a small triangle of whole-wheat toast then forced herself to take a bite. The news of the attempt on Rupert's life upset her greatly last evening, so much so that even his late phone call to reassure her of his well-being had not lessened her worry. Disturbing images interrupted her sleep and she was up long before daylight.

With her free hand, she picked up one of the carefully folded newspapers a servant had placed on the table for her. The story of the attack filled the front page of The Genovian Times, accompanied by pictures of the aftermath and ones of Rupert at earlier meetings. Their close friend Stefan, King of Ravenstein, had called and apologized repeatedly, appalled what had transpired in his nation. If Stefan was having difficulty with dissatisfied subjects, could there be trouble in the future with their own? Genovia had its own fair share of young people who undoubtedly were more worldly than the previous generation. Would Genovia, too, soon find discontent among its citizens? Shaking her head sadly, Clarisse turned her attention back to the article.

Wire reports stated that student protests at Ravenstein College had moved across town and turned unruly at the capitol's historic City Hall. Eyewitnesses reported a scuffle, followed by King Rupert's quick departure through a side door. There were also reports that his guard sustained serious injuries, with rumors ranging from the man barely clinging to life as he crawled from the room, to his taking out a dozen assailants barehanded.

Rushed by police waiting for his statements of what happened, Rupert did not mention in his call which guard was with him at the time, but she knew it had to have been Joseph Coraza. In every picture, he was near her husband an arm's length away. She recalled their short discussion a few weeks earlier when Rupert rejected the colonel's plans for expanding the security force. Now, Colonel Coraza was wounded, perhaps critically.

The hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach grew and she prayed his injury was not severe. Would he be able to continue at his job? After this, would he even want to? Colonel Coraza might decide to leave. Clarisse set the paper aside along with the rest of the toast, unable to eat anymore.

When she left her rooms half an hour ago, there was a message from the security person called Shades, for some odd reason, offering a briefing on what occurred. It would be her first item of business this morning. Last night, he suggested she curtail her public meetings for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. She was not pleased to do so, but recalling how Rupert had disregarded Joseph's advice, she thought better of it and agreed. Her secretary would reschedule her appointments as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, she would stay busy at her desk seeing to correspondence and reports that needed studying in hopes the day would pass quickly; Rupert was due home in time for dinner, as was Philippe. Their son had called as soon as he got word of the attack and was flying back from London where he had been attending a history symposium.

Despite his promise to consider his responsibilities to the people and the crown, he had yet to give her or Rupert an answer. Her husband was content to let him be, saying their son would, of course, fulfill his duty when duty called. Clarisse was not so certain; Philippe concerned her greatly. With a sigh, she placed her napkin on the table and rose, gesturing to the waiting staff that she was finished.

Up all afternoon with police, Joseph was tired despite having slept the better part of the morning in his hotel room after the king's visit. There was testimony to give, papers to sign, and security measures for the trip home to go over. Rupert, true to his word, did not leave the hotel but stayed in his suite for the final meetings and cancelled the ones he would have had to attend outside. A doctor had come by shortly before they left, checked Joseph's sutures, and changed the bandage with a caution to rest for the next two weeks. As if he could, Joseph thought wryly as he stepped out the private jet's doorway and into the chill late evening air of Genovia. It was dusk, the night sky a deepening blue-black. Stars were beginning to appear.

He descended the airplane's steps slowly, each movement tugging at the stitches in his side. He'd personally overseen the departure and flight plans and was with Rupert from the moment they left the hotel. Quite frankly, he did not have full faith in his staff. Clearing the road at his request, the Ravenstein police escorted the king to the airport and the departure had gone smoothly as had the hour and a half flight. He was glad to be back in Genovia despite the throng of reporters waiting for the king.

A flash went off close by, momentarily blinding him and he held tightly to the railing before continuing carefully. The flashes increased and the reporters shouted questions; Rupert was exiting the jet behind him. When he reached the bottom, Shades clapped him gently on the shoulder.

"Welcome home, sir."

"Thank you. It's good to be back," he replied, stepping away from the stairs and scanning the crowd. A line of police stood at attention in front of the low barricades that cordoned off the press and spectators. More officers stood in pairs on the tarmac between the king and possible troublemakers. On the stairs, Rupert had paused to wave. Joseph let his gaze sweep the entire area again. "Security looks tight. Good work."

Pleased at the compliment, Shades stood a bit taller. "I've heard nothing to cause alarm, but didn't want to take any chances."

The Chief of Police stepped closer and offered his hand which Joseph shook. "Glad to see you in one piece, Coraza."

"Thanks. Your men look sharp."

The Chief nodded. "They're coming along. Call if you need any extra manpower in the coming days."

"I'll keep it in mind," Joseph replied, surprised at the suggestion. The department had never refused his request for men, but they'd never offered any, either. The chief moved aside to confer with one of his staff and Joseph turned to his right as the king neared the bottom of the stairway.

Rupert stepped onto the tarmac, followed by Williams, who went directly to the podium and microphone to address the crowd. Shades immediately directed the king to the nearby limousine as the aide began giving His Majesty's statement to the press, assuring everyone of their sovereign's well-being.

Joseph made to move alongside Rupert, but two of his men quickly stepped forward and flanked the king, escorting him the short distance. Without a hitch, the car pulled away. In all, it had taken less than one and a half minutes, door to door.

He was, he had to admit, impressed. A week ago, he would have doubted if his staff could have pulled it off without his being there to coordinate every move. He smiled. There was hope, yet.

"Sir, if you are ready, we can follow," Shades said. Under the spotlights, to the rear of the plane, sat the Suburban. Anton waited by the door.

Joseph nodded. "Yes, let's go home."

"Their Majesties have retired for the evening, the place is secure, and every post is manned…all is well and quiet," Shades announced, dropping into a seat at the desk where Joseph sat looking over the security assignments for the coming week. He kicked at the brick holding up one leg of the desk, knocking it back square under it. "Would you like for me to drop you off at your apartment on my way home, boss?"

Exhausted, Joseph glanced at his watch, blinking to bring the small dial into focus - it was past midnight. He closed the folder and tossed it in the desk drawer that was stuck halfway open. By the time he got home and to sleep, it'd be nearly time to up to come back in. "No, I need to make a couple of calls early in the morning about the upcoming trip next week. I'll stay here."

Shades frowned at him in disapproval. "You must be beat- why not get some sleep and see to it later? I'll make the calls, if you like."

Joseph shook his head then rubbed a hand across his face. "I want to check with a few of my contacts from Interpol to find out more about that group we met up with yesterday." He let his eyes close for a moment before leaning forward, elbows on the desk, and continued. "I want to make sure there's no organized agenda that might be directed at the king."

"You still worried?"

"Not much. I doubt if the king was targeted. I think he just happened along at the wrong time, but I want to be certain."

Shades nodded. "Makes sense. You'll take some time off afterwards though, right?"

"I'll take a couple days after that's done."

"Ok," Shades said, satisfied. "Uh, boss, where you gonna sleep?"

Joseph pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes as Hans came in, ready to take the desk for the night shift. "That's a good question."

"I'll call the housekeeper on duty and-"

"No, don't bother," he broke in, the image of Miss Parker coming to mind. He leaned back in the chair. "I'll find something."

Joseph looked around the room then at the mountain of toilet paper along the wall. Toward the end of the row, the bales were stacked only waist high. His mouth twisted into a tired grin as he stood and shrugged off his jacket. "I'll put Miss Parker's precious stock to good use," he said, walking across the room, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Can't be very comfortable," Hans said critically; watching Joseph carefully lay down then tuck an arm under his head with his jacket covering him.

"I've slept in a lot worse conditions," Joseph answered, half yawning.

Shades shook his head and waved goodnight to Hans, who turned off all the lights and picked up the phone. After a quick call to the shift leader at the palace reception area not to call unless it was an emergency, Hans settled down behind the computer with his thermos of coffee and dimmed the monitor. Before long, a soft snoring sound filled the quiet room.

Just prior to daybreak, the door squeaked opened, and two housekeeping staff entered. They stopped, staring at the body asleep on the makeshift bed of toilet paper.

"If you wake him up," Hans hissed softly, rising to his full height, leaning over the desk, "you'll answer to me!"

Mouths open, the men quickly backed away and left. Pleased, Hans sat, primed and ready for the next intruders. Mr. Coraza would be disturbed only over his battered, bruised body.

Seventeen minutes later, the door was flung open.

"Why is it," Miss Parker bellowed as she stormed into the room followed closely by a small entourage, "me staff can't do their work?"

Hans slid down as low in his chair as possible, quickly revising his vow. His boss was on his own.

She flipped on the overhead bank of fluorescent lights and set her sights on her stockpile of paper, watching squinty-eyed as Joseph stirred, then slowly raised up on one arm.

He frowned and held a hand up trying to block the glare, then gingerly twisted around to sit on the edge of the bales. "Miss Parker…I'm sorry to have-"

"And what would you be doin' sleeping on me toilet paper?"

"I'm afraid it was late and there was no other-"

"And bleedin' on it at that!"

He looked. Blood had seeped through the bandage and his undershirt. He stood and glanced down at the white rolls protected by a thick covering of plastic.

"I don't think any got on them," he said, wincing as he slipped one arm then the other into the sleeve of his jacket to cover up.

Miss Parker stared at him, hands on her hips. Everyone was silent.

"I understand you managed to leap at a dagger and get yourself hurt over there in Ravenstein while protecting our king. Planning to fling yourself at more knives in the future, are you?"

"I assure you, I did not fling-"

"Don't know why you want to handle them troublemakers so carelessly when there's an easier way." She looked him up and down, openly sizing him up. "Now, Mr. Cozara, I'm not saying you don't know a little bit about being a security guard, but… well, you don't see the Avenger Mr. John Steed stopping no knife that a'way."

Joseph covered his eyes with his hand and nearly groaned, his head hurting almost as much as his ribs and back from an uncomfortable night. Now, he had this to contend with. "Miss Parker, give me thirty minutes and I will go home to-"

"Home? And who is it that will be looking after you at home? There's no Mrs. Cordaro, is there?"

He dropped his hand. Why hadn't he taken Shades up on his offer last night? "No, I'm not-"

"That's just what I'm saying! Mr. John Steed had that nice Mrs. Emma Peel to take care of him, but even so he stopped them bad fellas more gentlemanly-like and didn't get his self all tore up the way you decided to." She peered at him. "Mr. Corzada, you ever thought about getting a good, sturdy umbrella or cane?"

"What?" he asked, trying to make sense of her sudden change of subject. His head began to pound. "Why would–"

"A stout cane's just the thing for fighting off them what's trying to cause problems!" she explained enthusiastically. Her voice dropped and took on a shade of awe. "You see, one time Mr. Steed and Mrs. Peel was trapped in an alleyway and he-"

"Miss Parker," Joseph interrupted loudly, swaying as he walked to the desk. He clung to it as he sat on its edge, the desk rocking on its uneven legs. "I sincerely apologize for delaying your staff's duties, but-"

"It's a pity!" Miss Parker boomed, pointing at Joseph and turning her glare on Shades, who'd just entered the room. "Not a bite of breakfast waiting for the man! All them fellows you have scattered about, waiting for a body to pop out of the bushes or come sneaking in on the bread truck, and you can't send not one of them over to the kitchen to get Mr. Corada a morsel for his poor, suffering body?"

Mouth open, Shades froze in the doorway that led to the rear courtyard parking lot. "Uh, I just got here and I don't know anyth-"

"Come trottin' in at this late an hour and here Mr. Cozora is up already and in need of relief and comforting," she snapped, ignoring the fact that she was the one who woke him up. She turned to the bevy of maids and janitors watching wide-eyed. "Dora! Hurry down to the kitchen and ask Gerta to fix a tray of food that'll stick to Mr. Caroza's ribs. Edna! Turn down the covers in that extra room near the butler's pantry- I'm meaning the one at the quiet end of the hallway and be sure to put an extra pillow on the bed and make sure the room's warm enough."

The girls bobbed once and scurried away.

"Miss Parker, that's not necessary." He eased off the desk. "I'll just-"

"If you insist on getting yourself hurt protecting our king," she continued imperiously, marching across the room to stand in front of him, "the considerate thing for you to do is not go wandering around about all deathly pale like you're about to pass out on the good furniture. Mark my words, if you want to steer clear of inflicting yourself next time, you'll take my advice and get that cane!"

"If you please, ma'am," Joseph began, alarmed at how much it sounded as if he was begging. He took a step toward Shades. Freedom was just yards away. "I'll just go now."

"That's more like it! I knew you'd see it my way. Gerald! Show Mr. Cadaza to the room Edna's readying."

He looked desperately at Shades for help, but found none. Shades still had one hand on the doorknob, ready to flee.

"I'll see to the airport and hotel arrangements and speak with you about them this afternoon, sir," Shades said, uneasily. He glanced at Miss Parker, hoping he'd not riled her further.

Joseph sighed, the battle lost. A few hours sleep in a real bed was tempting, he had to admit. He felt no better now than he did the night before, if not worse. His stomach growled. "It would save me time..."

Shades nodded in agreement, relieved to see Miss Parker's scowl at him had lessened to a mere glare. "Yes, sir. I'll have someone run you home when you're ready."

Sitting up, Hans gathered his courage and finally spoke. "I'll bring the first aid kit and change your dressing."

Joseph steeled himself and turned to face Miss Parker, trying to force a pleasant expression on his face. "Thank you for your kindness, ma'am. I hope I'm not being a burden to your staff."

"Well, you are, but that's neither here nor there," she sniffed with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Gerald, show him to the room then notify the kitchen he's ready to eat. Mind you walk slow since Mr. Cazada is as weak as a helpless babe!"

Joseph resigned himself to losing yet another round to Miss Parker. He was certain he would never hold more than a nominal amount of authority at the palace, receive a shred of respect from the staff, or work in an office free of toilet paper.

He did his best to hold his head up as he walked unsteadily out of the room.

After breakfast in bed, six hours of uninterrupted sleep, two pain pills, three cups of coffee, and an extra helping of beef vegetable soup with half a loaf of heavy dark bread, Joseph felt much better. With great thanks, he politely refused Gerta's offer of more food and pushed his chair back from the kitchen table. He had work to do.

"Her Majesty wishes to see you at your convenience," Williams said from the doorway.
"Is there a problem?" Joseph asked, standing carefully- the pain was less, but he was still sore. He walked across the kitchen and into the hallway.

"No, no problem." Williams slowed his steps to match Joseph's. After an awkward pause, he looked away and continued hesitantly. "What you did…that is, preventing harm to His Majesty…"

"My job," Joseph said shortly, slowly negotiating his way up a short flight of stairs.

"Still…you put yourself in danger and-"

"I look after Their Majesties' safety in whatever manner I must," Joseph interrupted, preferring to drop the subject.

His injury was embarrassing enough as it was without the added attention of the media and the palace staff. Had he not allowed the king's arguing to distract him, he would have been able to deflect the knife. The lapse in attention was worthy of a rank amateur, not a professional of his experience and skill. He was grateful his momentary failure had not resulted in harm to the king.

Williams opened his mouth to speak again, but did not and was quiet until they reached the door. He turned and faced Joseph, standing at something close to attention. "Mr. Coraza, I have the guest list and particulars for the Pear Ball that you requested and I'll notify you at once of the guests' arrival times and of any changes. My office is at your disposal, sir."

For a second, Joseph was unable to hide his astonishment at the king's aide's sudden turnabout in deference. He caught himself. "Thank you, Williams. Your office is very efficient. That makes our job easier."

Williams smiled and opened the door to the patio then held it for him. "You are quite welcome. Please let me know if I or my staff can ever be of any assistance to you or your men. Her Majesty is in the garden, sir."

Queen Clarisse breathed deeply of the sweetly scented mauve rose cupped gently in her palms. Her garden, the only pastime she allowed herself, was in many ways her haven. She thought better, it seemed, when walking along the bricked and pebbled paths that wound their way around the fountains, gazebos, and statuary. When time permitted, she enjoyed wandering alone among the flowers and shrubs, delighting in the changing colors throughout the seasons.

The roses, however, were her favorite. Planning the garden, choosing where to place each hybrid tea or grandiflora in the beds, and deciding which floribunda to fill the urns placed about the garden had given her great satisfaction and pleasure. That several of her stock had come from the garden of her grandmother, fellow enthusiasts across the continent, and her late friend Bettina Addington made it all the more special. Her garden was a place of memories and peace.

At the moment, however, she was anything but calm. Throughout the day, Rupert downplayed the incident saying he'd not been in immediate danger. She did not believe him for a moment and knew that he, too, was upset and was putting up a brave front for her benefit. She'd lain awake in his arms last night, her head on his chest listening to his heartbeat, comforting herself in the knowledge he was safe. Having him home had not taken away her worries.

She drew her thoughts back to the present and again breathed in the rose's perfume. Closing her eyes, she lost herself its distracting pleasure and a smile touched her lips. For these few seconds, she would put her fears aside and not think of what could have happened. Clarisse sighed audibly.

Nearby, a man cleared his throat.

Her eyes flew open.

"I'm sorry to have startled you, Your Majesty."

Embarrassed, Clarisse let go of the bloom and clasped her hands in front of her, assuming a regal composure. "Good afternoon, Col-… Joseph."

"Good afternoon. I was told you wished to see me, ma'am."

"Yes, I did. Thank you for coming."

"If you are busy, I can return later." He nodded to the roses that had held her attention before he interrupted her.

"No, I was just taking a few moments to myself outside," she quickly replied. "The day is very fine."

He looked up at the blue sky and she used the moment to look at him closely. He looked tired, perhaps slightly paler than she remembered with the lines at the corner of his eyes and mouth more pronounced. Otherwise, to her great relief, he appeared to be in no distress.

Clarisse wondered what type of man would intentionally put himself in danger as Joseph Coraza had. She knew it was the job of the security staff to see to her and her husband's safety, but she always thought it was a matter of simply arranging the proper police escorts, keeping the more enthusiastic well-wishers at a distance, and such. She'd never considered it would mean actually risking their lives. Yet Joseph had.

Their new Head of Security was a remarkable man.

"Yes, it is," he agreed. Joseph looked at the rose she had been holding. "That is a beautiful flower."

Her expression softened and she reached out to lightly touch a petal. "It is my favorite," she admitted.

He looked surprised. "Of all these," he said, sweeping his gaze across the garden then back to her, "you can select just one as a favorite?"

"It is a new hybrid." She blushed modestly. "It was named in my honor."

Joseph nodded, a smile touching the corner of his mouth. "Appropriately so."

"Thank you." Her blush deepened and she looked away. "You must be uncomfortable; would you care to sit for a moment?"

He hesitated before answering. "If you wish, ma'am."

"It is still rather warm out in the sun, despite it being autumn. I don't think we will have many more days like this," she observed. "Let's sit in the gazebo."

He inclined his head in acknowledgement and followed, staying two steps behind her.

Queen Clarisse led him to the gazebo's only bench and sat. Slowly, he took a seat on the far end, glancing about the area, concerned about propriety. They were in plain view of the gardening staff trimming the nearby hedges. His and Her Majesty's movements easily seen, so there could be no questioning of decorum.

He relaxed, enjoying the shade. The walk from the kitchen was a short one, but he had found it uncomfortable and it felt good to rest for a moment. Birds chirped melodiously and a butterfly flitted to a pot of chrysanthemums. To his left, climbing roses spread along the railing.

"A very pleasant place," he offered.

"Yes. It is my special place." Clarisse looked past him, smiling again. "It affords a lovely view of the entire garden and the fields beyond."

Careful not to pull the stitches, he turned so that he could see the area behind the formal landscaping. Bright blooms dotted the meadow in the far distance beyond a break in the trees. He turned back to her. "More flowers?"

She laughed. "Yes, wildflowers. I had them sown last spring."

Her attention still on the countryside, he allowed himself to look at her openly for a moment. The fresh air had brought a pink glow to her skin and he thought her lovelier than the first time he'd seen her.

It still caused him a great deal of humiliation to recall how he had mistaken her for a member of the palace staff. He'd hoped for a relationship with her and was on the act of asking her to dinner when the king and Victor entered the room. His jaw tightened. If the interruption hadn't occurred, preventing him from finishing his invitation…

Joseph looked to where the gardeners were carefully shaping the boxwoods and raking fallen leaves from the borders. Just like them, he was a mere employee and a commoner…and she was a queen.

Abruptly, he stood. It would be foolish to ever forget that fact.

"Is there something Your Majesty wished to discuss?" he asked, walking to the opposite railing. He turned and faced her, hands behind his back, his expression one of dutiful respect.

"No, not really," she said coming to stand near him. "I wanted to say thank you…for saving my husband's life."

"It is not necessary, Your Majesty. It is why I am here," he replied matter-of-factly.

"To willing put yourself in danger?" she asked without thinking.

"I do whatever may be required," he replied quietly.

She stared at him. "The man was carrying a weapon- he could have killed you!"

The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement and he shook his head. "Perhaps with a firearm, but not with a knife- I am more competent than that- usually."

The queen paled and he immediately regretted his words.

She stepped closer, touching his arm. "It was a terrible incident, frightening to simply hear of it!"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I did not mean to make light of what happened. Security matters are very serious." Joseph forced himself to move slightly, away from her touch. "I am accustomed to…certain risks and I sometimes forget that others are not."

Her brown eyes still shone with worry. He quickly continued, trying to make amends and assure her.

"Again, I am sorry. It was thoughtless of me. The objective of our work is to ensure that nothing like that could ever occur."

Clarisse took a deep breath, considering. "You are well qualified- I have no doubt of that. But, please understand that there has never been an attempt or even a threat to a Genovian royal in recent times. We've never considered such a thing happening before. If it should again…"

"You have every right to be troubled over the incident, or even frightened, ma'am," he said, again berating himself for his tactlessness. "However, I am nearly certain King Rupert was not a specific target. It was an incident of chance."

"This incident- it was caused in part by my husband's ignoring your advice, wasn't it?" The queen looked at him directly, demanding he be truthful.

"There were several factors. One was an unruly crowd, another was insufficient police presence," he said, trying to avoid criticizing his sovereign.

"Rupert did not listen to you, did he?" she insisted.

He did not answer.

"Oh, Joseph, I am so sorry!" Clarisse stepped to the railing and looked out over her roses. "You were injured because of…" Her voice trailed off and she became silent.

He moved to stand beside her then spoke firmly. "Your Majesty, I am fully aware of the hazards my job entails. It is my responsibility to see to security arrangements, not His Majesty's. If someone is injured, I am accountable- no one else. As for what happened, it is a lesson learned."

She gazed at him sadly. "Perhaps there was a lesson learned, but you have paid the price and a dear one, at that."

He lifted his right shoulder in a shrug. "It is not a very serious injury. A few days of rest and light duty and I will be fine."

"And the next time?" she asked.

"I have not spoken with the king since our return, but he earlier indicated a desire to make changes in his security forces," Joseph replied, hoping it gave his queen a measure of reassurance.

Clarisse smiled knowingly. "What you mean is he finally quit being stubborn."

There was no acceptable answer to her comment, so he stayed silent.

"I'm sorry to have put you on the spot," she laughed. "My husband can be rather obstinate, but I assure you that when he decides to accomplish a goal, he gives it his complete attention."

"I am pleased to hear that, Your Majesty."

"As am I."

Neither spoke for a long moment. Joseph glanced at her once more as she looked out over the garden.

"So, you plan to stay?" she asked hesitantly.

"Ma'am?"

"You will not be leaving us?" she asked, still not looking at him.

"I have no plans to leave, Your Majesty." Did she think he might resign because of the incident?

"Good. That is good to know," she said, relieved. She turned and smiled at him. "I'm very glad you will be staying."

Joseph felt himself becoming lost in her eyes, her smile. He took a deep breath, forcing air into his lungs.

Did she love Rupert or was theirs a marriage of convenience? Did she find fulfillment at his side and in his arms?

"Is there anything more you need of me, ma'am?" he asked suddenly, squaring his shoulders, pushing the questions from his mind. He could not let those thoughts grow. While he did not regret taking the job, he knew he would have to learn to deal with the feelings he had for her- and very soon. They were far too dangerous.

"No," she replied. "I hope I have not kept you from your rest."

"Not at all."

He gave his queen a slight bow. "I am always at your service, Your Majesty. If you will excuse me?"

"Of course," she replied. "Thank you, again, Joseph."

He quickly left.

Terribly sorry about the long wait- just not enough time, it seems!

Thanks for you reviews, comments, and encouragement- I appreciate them very much and make writing all the more enjoyable.

Skelly, dear,you've been writing too many bullets on OPRs and PRFs...