Night fell unexpectedly early. Utahime lifted her hand to switch on her desk lamp, finding the snow-covered gardens outside bathed in shadow. All day, fat, lazy snowflakes had drifted from the sky slowly, as if they were tired of dancing, yet hesitant to end their descent. It was a whole mood, this broody, reluctant blanketing.

But not one she had the luxury to wallow in. The darkness wasn't early. She was late.

Utahime pulled the red beanie down over her ears and wrapped the fluffy pink cashmere scarf more tightly so it wouldn't glide off her neck anymore. Her extra heater she had labored to bring here last year? Dead. It had decided to give up when the temperatures had dropped below zero. Shooting a foul look in the direction of the useless gray hulk in the corner, Utahime stomped her feet under the desk, blew warm air into her cold hands, and picked her pen up again.

Only one history assignment to go: Mai's. Who had chosen to write about "The Complicated Relationship between the Gojo and the Zenin Clan since the Heian Era and its Impact on Jujutsu Sorcerer Society". Utahime had quickly moved it to the bottom of the pile after scanning the title. Months had passed since 'that day' as she called it in her head, but she still felt a searing stab of pain in her body whenever she encountered the name "Gojo".

Which was all the time, several times a day.

The Jujutsu Society was more obsessed than ever with Gojo Satoru. They talked about how he had miraculously become even stronger than before. Were in awe of his businesses' stellar performance. Branching out, he now owned 80% of Japan's cinemas and at least half of all promising start-ups in the gaming industry. Even non-sorcerer magazines were peppered with paparazzi images of Gojo drinking coffee, shopping for clothes, laughing with strangers, walking in the streets of Tokyo, eating a hamburger, sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons, etc. etc. etc. The higher-ups were spitting venom about the exposure, but there were yellow press stories everyday about girlfriends, fiancés, secret marriages, affairs, illegitimate children. His death. His resurrection. Rumors that he had bought an island in the Pacific Ocean and would soon disappear from the public eye forever. There even was a new manga series about him but her students had told her it was "total shit - because the mangaka obviously doesn't know Gojo Sensei's true personality".

Did anyone? Utahime sometimes wondered. Months ago on the phone, Shoko had complained that she did not understand what was going on with him anymore. That he had changed, would barely talk to her beyond the absolutely necessary, was always absentminded and in a hurry.

"I never tried to interact with a God before," she had grumbled. "And I won't try again, it sucks."

Despite laughing it away afterwards, Shoko was annoyed and concerned. That had made Utahime even sadder than she already was. Would she still be able to talk to him once their paths inevitably crossed? With every day that passed it seemed less likely. Months had gone by, but she had not mustered the courage to text or call him. All the unsaid things weighed on her soul so heavily, she felt unable to move at all. For weeks, she felt like abject trash for what she had done, but at the same time, she knew she would betray him again. And again. And again. There was no other choice beyond dooming the world out of selfishness.

But every day, she worried... She worried because she knew how fine the line between the power of a God and utter insanity was. They had already lost one Special Grade sorcerer to it. Losing a second, losing Gojo, would be the end of the world as they knew it. It simply couldn't happen. She worried so much, she slept poorly. And it showed... The face staring back at her from the mirror these days was edged and gaunt, her scar shining like an angry warning sign from her pallid features.

"You have to stop worrying about him, Hime. You cannot save him from himself," Shoko had told her during one of their meetings earlier in the year.

But what if she could? His body pressed against hers, his arms clinging on like he feared to drown in his sleep… those blue eyes so full of happiness when they focused on her, his barely contained excitement bubbling forth when he ripped open the door.

"Welcome home, Utahime! How was your day?"

It was insubstantial like a distant dream now, those few days shared in an impossible bubble of bliss. For a bit of time each day, she had been able to forget who he was and where he truly belonged. For a bit of time, he had been hers. For a bit of time, she had given him what he needed: A home.

Was it brazen to store away a sliver of hope that she could be his harbor again sometime in the future?

Yes. Yes. Don't be stupid. What do you think will change? No more curses to fight? Yeah, sure. Often, it felt like the biggest curse of all was real life.

"... an old feud going back to a frankly silly prank played by the Zen'in founding father Taira no Masakado on Michizane no Sugawara, ancestor of the Gojo Clan. Why it turned this bitter is hard to reconstruct," Utahime read for at least the tenth time. The bold letters wavered and blurred in front of her eyes. With a sigh, she lifted her head. She was simply too tired to do this much overtime.

She put away the pen and stared into the night, which seemed to stare right back. What hurt her the most was how effortlessly Gojo had taken his ghosting to the next level: It was like he had never known her. Maybe it was selfish and would only help to ease her own conscience, but she had hoped for months that he would let her explain her decision. When she imagined it, he was still furious, and had a right to be - but he saw reason and forgave her, because she could make him understand that she hadn't enjoyed hurting him. She wanted to tell him that on that night he had bled his life out in her arms, the sweet confession on his lips, she had forced herself to say goodbye to all the hopeful, sweet dreams of being something other than distant colleagues in the future. And most importantly, because she knew him too well, she had moved to take away his agency, to ensure he could not jeopardize everything, his life, his soul, the world, on a whim.

Swallowing hard, Utahime looked down on Mai's assignment. She just needed to push herself a little more, then go home and sink into bed. Thinking about Gojo and all the "what could have beens" would eventually stop hurting so much. It had to.

"... an old feud going back to a frankly silly prank played by the Zen'in founding father Taira no Masakado on Michizane no Sugawara, ancestor of the Gojo Clan. Why it turned this bitter is hard to reconstruct, but there are several sources who claim it was about a woman."

You are small and shapely, just the way I like it, a ghostly voice chuckled in her memory. Yeah, fuck. If there was a lesson in all of this for her, it was to never again overestimate her sex appeal. The embarrassment and humiliation she felt when she thought of stripping in front of a vengeful spirit of that caliber was deep and tasted bitter. Had she really believed she could manipulate him by throwing her own body into the mix? Just because Gojo Satoru's adoring eyes had made her feel beautiful for a time, she had thought she had power over his ancestor and himself? That illusion had all collapsed like a house of cards the moment Gojo had sided with his ancestor instead of her.

"Gojo has a hard time trusting people," Shoko had once told her. "Figures, seeing how everyone is always out to get him."

Figures. And she had betrayed his trust in the worst possible way. She wasn't even sure whether he suspected the full extent of it: Her, Nanami and Shoko plotting to help Asahiko's widow and her daughter escape. Utahime had no idea where Chia was today but according to Nanami, she had successfully left the country. For weeks, Utahime had feared that the staged car accident - Nanami had even sacrificed his flashy, red car! - and the burnt corpses, one child, one female, were so over the top that their ploy would be blown open due to its sheer ridiculousness, but no. Everybody had just accepted it without questions. It almost seemed like the Gojo Clan was glad they could let this go. Which made sense, Gojo's grandmother and aunts were tough women but killers? Utahime had a hard time seeing that.

Personally, Utahime wouldn't forgive that woman for trying to harm Satoru. Not ever. She also suspected that someone - from the Zen'in Clan? - had given her the poison and that someone - Aunt Kimiko - had helped. But that didn't mean she wanted a woman and her child executed following some archaic law that should no longer exist just because she happened to get dragged into Clan politics.

"...Why it turned this bitter is hard to reconstruct, but there are several sources who claim it was about a woman. Supporting that theory is the romantic poetry that Michizane Sugawara wrote in his youth, bemoaning a love that was doomed from the start. Since I did not have access to the Gojo family library for this assignment, I cannot know for certain how much of that poetry still exists, but there is a derisive mention of it in the Zen'in records that I did have access to."

Doomed from the start. Yes. And yet, even knowing that, she wouldn't want to miss even a second of it.

After finally managing to read through Mai's thoughtful, well-researched and argued assignment twice, Utahime put a red A+ on the front with no hesitation. "Excellent. In case you want to pursue this topic further, you should talk to Gojo Sensei," she commented in small writing. "He might give you access to the Gojo Clan library. Or maybe he knows more about this himself."

Is he a part of you now? She hoped to ask him. Michizane Sugawara no longer inhabited his shrine (yes - she had foolishly checked). He had not brought calamity over the world. That meant that Gojo knew how to control him. Of course he did, he just needed to want to. That better offer Sugwara had mentioned to her? It could only mean the kind of freedom he craved. To see, taste, smell, and feel the world. Not just once a day. Every day.

She had wanted Gojo to be the strongest, to be invulnerable due to the blessing of his Ancestor - but she had never wanted him to sacrifice so much of himself.

Swallowing down her grief, she put the remaining paper on her desk in order, threw away the empty chips and gummy bags, and wiped the surface clean with her sleeve. Finally time to head home. She was just looking at everything one last time when a sound in the corridor made her tense.

Was someone running?

Utahime turned around to face the closed door with a worried frown. Who was still at school this late? This couldn't be good. Was something wrong with a student in the dorms and someone had come to fetch her?

The footsteps drew closer fast and before she could brace herself, the door burst open, hitting the wall with a resounding bang - she screeched and jumped backwards, hitting her hip painfully on her desk, her arms raised haphazardly to defend herself.

"Go…Gojo?" Her mouth fell open stupidly when a familiar, tall, black-clad figure with upward pointing white hair rushed into her office.

"You're here," he sounded oddly breathless as he hefted his blindfolded eyes on her. "Are you alright?"

"Y… yes?" she realized she was trembling. What was Gojo Satoru doing here at Kyoto Tech at 8.43 pm on a Wednesday evening? "What… what happened?"

Outwardly calm, Gojo looked around her office but the amount of tense spiritual pressure he exuded made it hard to breathe. Utahime shrunk back a little, instinctively afraid. His blood was up. A snap of his fingers and she was toast.

"He was here," Gojo said ominously, his face turned towards the window. "His cursed energy is all over the garden."

He. There was no doubt who he meant. Utahime swiveled around to look too but it was pointless. She didn't have his Six Eyes. She couldn't see cursed energy particles in the air like he could.

"Geto?" she breathed. Not everybody in the Jujutsu Society took Geto Suguru's worsening bold threats seriously - but she did. His unstoppable descent into darkness had happened right in front of her, her own helplessness only amplified by Shoko's grief. He was capable of everything he claimed he'd do and more. "Why would he…?"

"He probably wanted to test me," Gojo answered, turning his piercing attention back to her. "Why are you so pale?"

"Oh," embarrassed, her hand went to her hair to smooth it down, lingered on her forehead, stroked over the uneven skin of her scar. She wasn't even wearing any make-up. If she could have, she would have hidden her face away from him. "Yeah, I'm not exactly presentable."

"Has he shown himself to you?" Gojo wanted to know, stepping closer. He had dimmed his cursed energy considerably, but it still felt like the slap of a giant hand when his powers brushed against hers. She gasped, looking up into his face, searching it for signs of the old Gojo, finding only cold perfection but no warmth.

"He has?" Another step towards her. Too close. I can't breathe.

"No," she shook her head vehemently, clenching her fists so her hands wouldn't shake so much, "why would he? We don't even know each other that well."

Gojo cocked his head to the side a little. "I just told you. To test me."

It had become inevitable, the clash between two Special Grades. Utahime tried not to think about it too much but every new provocation from Geto made it seem like the day was already upon them. There was a desperate part of her that told herself that maybe, Gojo would manage to capture Geto alive. Maybe, somehow, the higher-ups would change his death sentence into a life long prison sentence. Maybe, by some unforeseen miracle, Gojo wouldn't have to kill his best friend.

"I'm sorry," she reached for Gojo's sleeve, an instinctive gesture meant to give comfort. Silly - her fingers got lost in the infinity surrounding him and she dropped her hand quickly, feeling stupid that she had forgotten about it.

"It isn't your fault. It's mine," Gojo said, looking out the window again. "He's gone now."

Silence fell between them. Almost to the day one year ago Gojo had first appeared in her office out of the blue, she realized.

"Will you have a drink with me?" She blurted out, coloring deeply when he turned his head to study her. "I mean, it's almost…"

"... my birthday," he nodded. "Tomorrow."

He just stood there in renewed silence afterwards, looking at her with his eyes hidden behind thick cloth and she felt like she was going to die from mortification. Why should he have a drink with me of all people? "You choose the place," she quickly added, making sure to sound extra nonchalant when her heart wanted to jump out of her chest. He's going to say no. I'm going to die from embarrassment.

"Okay," he shrugged. "I like the idea. That place we went to before."

"The Pig and Whistle?!"

He nodded, already turning around.

"Alright," she smiled nervously at his back, "to the Pig and Whistle we go."

###

It was still snowing but the streets were covered in unpleasant slush instead of pretty white. Utahime turned her head up, watching the snowflakes tumble to their inevitable deaths. Gojo, sauntering next to her with his hands buried in his pockets, turned his face up too. The snow settled for a few moments on his infinity before melting, creating a faint white shimmer around him. Eerie. She looked away quickly before he could catch her staring, concentrating on putting one foot before the other, racking her brain about what to say to him.

"Is that man still there?" Gojo asked.

"Do you mean Kenji?" she asked back, feeling the heat in her cheeks again. This had to stop, she couldn't blush like a teenager as soon as he opened his mouth! "Yes."

"Good," Gojo sounded satisfied.

Oh boy - what is he planning to do? She didn't know how to ask, then sat next to him on the bus as stiff as a broom, doing everything possible not to brush against him, yet failing miserably because the driver was either drunk or completely incompetent, the bus swerving and bucking like it was trying to throw out the passengers through the windows.

"I'm sorry," she said when she was thrown against his infinity. "I'm so sorry," the next time. "Sorry, sorry."

The rub of his energy against hers was no longer unpleasant but she still felt a jolt every single time. It was an interesting sensation, her body slowing down and stopping before coming in contact with anything. His body heat was there though. He was like a furnace.

"How are your students?" She tried to make conversation to mask her nervousness. "Everything alright?"

She had last seen them a few months ago, at the Sister School Event. Gojo had not been able to participate. Important business elsewhere.

"Of course," Gojo answered. "They're teenagers with a lot of cursed power. What could possibly go wrong?"

She blinked at him, unsure whether he had just made a joke.

"I saw your protégé in action for the first time. Megumi Fushiguro? He is very promising."

"Mhm," Gojo agreed. "He's going to be strong. If he manages to get rid of his sentimentality."

She blinked again, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Was this the changed Gojo that Shoko had talked about? All business-like and cold. Had ingesting Michizane Sugawara done this to him?

"Here we are," she exclaimed needlessly because Gojo had already gotten up when they arrived at the right bus stop, his tall, powerful body crowding her space and making her feel weak and inconsequential.

"Listen," she told him before they entered the bar, "What happened between me and Kenji… between you and Kenji is in the past. I'm talking to him normally again, it's all fine."

"Is that your thing?" Gojo asked, holding open the door for her. "Just forgive people who were nasty to you?"

Unsure how to take his comment, Utahime entered, finding the place not even half-full. No wonder: There were no interesting games on TV tonight, the weather was bad, and it was the middle of the week. Thinking that it would get very awkward because they would have to talk to each other, Utahime shrugged out of her coat, took off her beanie, scarf and mittens. She lifted her hand to greet Kenji, who was cleaning glasses behind the bar with a white towel. He acknowledged her presence with a short nod and a terse smile.

Then, his jaw dropped when he saw who entered behind her.

Oh boy. Utahime had completely forgotten that Gojo was a celebrity in the non-sorcerer world too now. Everybody in here stared at him with their mouths open! Gojo, who didn't seem to notice the effect he had on the room, took off his blindfold and stuffed it into the back pocket of his trousers, sauntering over to the bar like he owned the place.

"Hey," he addressed Kenji. "I remember you are into micro brewing? I'm looking for investment opportunities in that segment. Can I contact you about it later?"

Kenji stammered something unintelligible while Gojo waited patiently for him to get his act together, an impassive, polite expression on his jarringly handsome face.

"I guess so," Kenji finally managed to stutter, his eyes searching Utahime's, pleading for help. Which he wouldn't get. She knew from first hand experience what the price for saying no to a Gojo business offer was. Her father, who had so proudly and stubbornly refused to work with anyone even remotely related to the Gojo Clan, was struggling to establish his new business. While she admired her father's resolve, she also knew that he would fail for good in one, max two months. Was pride worth it?

"The usual," she told Kenji from behind Gojo's back and went over to her favorite table near the window.

"I don't know why he's that afraid of me?" Gojo commented when he came to join her, plopping down on the bench that was much too small for him.

A surprised laugh escaped Utahime's mouth. "You smashed your fist into his chin and he flew across my living room, almost splitting his skull open?"

"Well, he's completely fine," Gojo shrugged. "Everybody is always so dramatic. Are you and him…?"

He made a suggestive gesture and she gaped. Had he just asked her whether she was dating Kenji again?!

"I'm not that desperate, Gojo," Utahime scoffed, angrily pressing her lips together. But hey, they were finally starting to talk like normal people, so she should really be expecting nosy, tactless comments en masse.

"Then I guess he is," Gojo commented drily. In protest, Utahime looked towards the bar - finding Kenji's eyes on her. He looked… jealous?! What the fuck, she thought, feeling anger build up in the pit of her stomach. Is everybody going insane again?

"It's none of your business," she snapped at Gojo, who looked at one of the screens like all of this was completely normal. Eight months. We haven't seen each other for eight months. Are we pretending nothing happened?

"I guess you're right," he said and turned his eyes on her.

No. He hadn't forgotten a second of what happened. Are you out to get me, Gojo? Utahime wondered with a slight chill, are you plotting revenge? Tit for tat. Our families are good at that, I hear. She would probably have drowned in the blue depths of his eyes, trying to read his guarded, sly expression, if Kenji hadn't snapped her out of it by slamming two big beers and a selection of unhealthy snacks on their table with a gruff: "Here you go."

"You shouldn't drink," Utahime scolded Gojo but he had already lifted the tankard to his lips, drinking deeply.

"And you're not my mother," he grabbed a sugar coated doughnut from one of the plates, demolishing it with two large bites.

Maybe he hadn't changed at all. Maybe the haughty coldness was an act.

"Why did you agree to have a drink with me?" She demanded to know. "Tell me honestly."

"Why?" He chewed thoughtfully, his blue eyes not leaving her face for a second. "Maybe I missed you."

She drew in a sharp breath. Had she forgotten how good he was at riling her up? But annoyance wasn't everything she felt.

"Don't toy with me," she gritted her teeth, taking a large gulp from her own beer. Those piercing, all-seeing eyes made her slightly dizzy.

"Why are you wearing one of the ribbons I gave you?" He asked back. "And that beanie you wore. It's mine. So are the red mittens."

Because I cannot stop thinking about you? She shrugged stubbornly instead of admitting to such a weakness. Should she tell him that the scarf was a present from Nanami to test his mood?

"Do you like origami?" He asked abruptly.

"Orig… why? What does that have to do with anything?" She couldn't believe this. Eight months. A thousand things unsaid. And he asked her something nonsensical like that?!

"Hm," he shrugged. "I happen to have a book that you might like."

"I don't like origami at all," she lied. "And if I did, I'd already own the necessary books."

"Ah," he said and nodded. "Figures."

He munched more doughnuts and quickly emptied his beer. Too quickly. This situation felt like a calamity in the making but Utahime could only stare in fascination at the future train-wreck in front of her.

"Stop drinking," she tried again, well knowing it was pointless.

The truth was: He hadn't changed. He was the old, annoying Gojo who took pleasure in riling her up. In contrast to her, he hadn't sat around for eight months moping about a relationship that had gone sour. What had she expected? He had this uncanny ability to move on, whatever happened, didn't she know? Gojo didn't hold grudges. He simply didn't care.

"No," he said and lifted the empty glass in Kenji's direction to order more. "Who are you to tell me what to do? I'm Gojo Satoru. I do what I want."

I should probably call someone, she thought helplessly. Shoko? Nanami? Whom does he listen to? His aunts?

"Aren't you one of the few people I can trust, Utahime?" Gojo turned his eyes back to her, their momentary sincerity taking her by surprise. "I haven't relaxed in ages. You will guard my back, won't you? Just let me have a bit of fun."

Now feeling slightly panicky, Utahime put her own beer down and away on the next table, determined that the few sips from before were going to be all the alcohol she would allow herself. Guard his back? He wasn't serious, was he?!

"What… what if he attacks tonight?" She swallowed nervously.

"Nah," Gojo waved his hand dismissively.

"You cannot know that!" She insisted.

Gojo stuffed a salty pretzel into his mouth and pulled a face. "Sometimes, we need to take risks in life, Uta-hiiime."

"But not like this," she hissed. "You cannot jeopardize the safety of the world just for a drink!"

"Just a drink? But you're mistaken," Gojo waved to Kenji, pointing at the empty doughnut plate. "This isn't just a drink. It's a reunion."

What? What are you saying? What are we doing here?

"Everything about this situation feels so familiar," he mused, a finger resting on his lips. "Like a déjà-vu. Do you think Gojo bodyguards will burst through the door anytime soon?"

"Good idea. Should I call your aunt?" Utahime put her hand on her phone. "They can come pick you up. You can rest a bit at the estate if you're tired."

"Gods, no!" Gojo shook himself. "She's even worse than you with her nagging. Don't worry so much, Utahime. I'll be fine."

The second beer and a new plate of doughnuts arrived. He drank deeply. Utahime leaned back on her chair, resigning to fate and Gojo Satoru's mood. There was nothing she could do - only go with it.

"You're insane," Utahime murmured. "What are we even doing here?"

"You bring out the worst in me, Senpai," Gojo grinned. "But don't forget, it was you who asked me out this time. I appreciate it, you can congratulate me on my birthday in a few hours."

"Shoko is worried about you," Utahime told him well into his third beer. She was now drinking apple juice and filling her stomach with greasy junk. "She says you've changed a lot."

"Have I?" Gojo mused. "What do you think?"

"You haven't changed at all," Utahime retorted without pause.

"I guess that means you also bring out the best in me, Senpai," he winked at her.

Time passed incredibly fast and then it was almost midnight - the whole bar did a countdown in Gojo Satoru's honor, someone had managed to procure a cake with sparkling candles, everyone queued up to take selfies with him, to brag about spending time with one of the top national celebrities on social media.

It felt unreal, like they had entered a time-discontinuity bubble, a negation of the past, an opening for the future. Her heart was so full she feared it might explode.

"I'm so very sorry," it burst out of her when she finally got the chance to speak to him without anyone crowding him to take a picture. "I didn't want all of these things to happen. I really meant well. Can you forgive me?"

Her hand grabbed for his sleeve before she could remember how futile it was - but to her big surprise, he let her touch him. Off balance, she stumbled forward and landed in his arms, what a classic.

"Happy birthday, Satoru," she looked up into his eyes, her heart beating so fast it was almost painful. "So you have been well? I was really worried."

"Should we teleport to Tokyo now?" His face was so close it filled her entire world. "It's what happened next after all."

The answer was yes, a thousand times, yes, yes, yes! She had missed him every day, with every breath, with every fiber of her body. She was as helpless and stupid as all the women who had thrown themselves at his feet, desperate for his attention, all dignity and self-care forgotten. But as the word quivered so readily on her lips, she was struck mute by the implications of it.

"We shouldn't," she sobbed. "Please, Satoru. I want it all but I cannot allow myself to have it. It will break my already broken heart. I cannot let you close again just for one night. I can't."

"So tell me, who came up with the idea to fake their deaths? Nanami?" Gojo whispered, his gaze dropping to her lips.

"I… I don't know what you…" she stammered, thunderstruck, struggling against him feebly, shame driving the blood into her cheeks.

He laughed gently, not letting go. "You're the worst liar. Don't even try."

"Please, we… we really didn't want you to…"

"I hope she knows how to hide," Gojo sneered. Was he not drunk at all? "I now hold grudges, Utahime. I hear it's a Clan thing."

"I am sorry I went behind your back," Utahime hastened to tell him, "and I know that all the apologies in the world cannot make it undone."

"Would you do it again?" He asked, the expression on his face subtly changing. "Would you betray me again?"

"Yes," Utahime whispered, quickly burying her face against his chest so she didn't have to see the hope on his wiped away by her words. "Yes, I would."

"Ah," he sighed, his arms falling to his side. "I see."

But this was not how this evening was going to end.

"Happy birthday, Satoru," Utahime repeated, lifting her face up with determination, her arms still around his middle. "What are you now, twenty-eight? You're such a baby."

"And what are you? And old hag?" He lifted his hand to brush a strand of her hair away from her face. His hand lingered on her cheek a moment.

"Not quite yet," she smiled bravely.

"Good," he said, taking a step backwards and away from her with a heavy sigh. "Just don't go anywhere, Utahime."

"No," she took his hands before he could disappear. "No, I'll be waiting."

It was the least that she could do, even if it wasn't much: Put the hope back into his blue, godlike eyes and believe in the future.

Thanks for reading, it's been an honor!

I'm moving on to another ship for a while but will most likely be back for this one, how could I not, what a sweet, sexy couple. Take care everyone and see you around!