A/N:

i would like to mention there is a questionable level of stockholm syndrome going on, but i wasn't sure if it made sense to tag as tom isn't actually keeping harry prisoner? not strictly, anyhow. but here is your warning! tom is a creep!

Chapter 9: Riddle Manor

The skies above Riddle Manor were golden, streaked with long stretches of fluffy clouds. Below them, Harry's garden gleamed and glowed. Crystal blossoms hung from birch branches like miniature chandeliers. Harry had gone above and beyond Tom's expectations and delivered a gorgeous, breathtaking finished product.

To celebrate, Tom had purchased a beautiful custom picnic blanket for him and Harry to use on days when the in-game weather was nice. The blanket was patterned with snakes and lily flowers; it complimented the green and silver hues of the garden wonderfully.

"Did you have a nice day today?" Tom asked pleasantly as he poured out two steaming cups of tea.

After a short pause, Harry nodded. "I was browsing through some of the recent game releases."

"Oh?" Tom handed Harry his tea. "Was there anything you liked? Anything that caught your eye?" Harry continued to wear plain clothes despite Tom's offers to pay for nicer things. If this kept up, Tom would be forced to pick out a wardrobe for Harry himself.

"I'm not sure yet." Harry cupped both hands around his drink and blew at the steam that billowed up. "I'll let you know." He did not sound very enthusiastic about it, which was worrisome.

Tom knew Harry was unhappy about being confined to the manor and its grounds. But it was too dangerous to let Harry roam the public servers. The horrible 'accident' that had befallen the Dursleys was still fresh in the minds of the local community. There were too many clients of Grunnings that could potentially recognize the bot who had worked on their gardens.

So Harry would stay here. Tom protected him in ways that others could not—would not. Without a physical body, Harry was vulnerable. He was exposed to the whims of disgusting people like his relatives, who would use him and ruin him. But Tom, who came from poverty and obscurity, took good care of his things. He would take care of Harry.

"I've been looking into your cousin," Tom said some moments later, when their tea sat cooled and half-consumed in their respective mugs.

Dudley Dursley had not moved far from his childhood home. He had grown into exactly the sort of pompous, entitled young man that Tom had expected from parents like Vernon and Petunia. When the time came, when the news of the Dursley parents was naught but a sad, distant story, Tom would pay the Dursley boy a heartfelt visit.

Harry set his tea down. "Dudley?"

"I think he'd like to see his parents, wouldn't you?" Tom commented idly.

"No," Harry said, with more vehemence than was really necessary.

Dudley had tortured Harry as a child. Had bullied him to the point of death. Tom could not understand Harry's insistence on permitting his terrible relatives to live. It wasn't as if Tom had even really killed them. The Dursley parents remained frozen in the greenhouse, awaiting the day when Tom saw fit to punish them properly for their crimes.

"Fine," Tom said, already shelving the thought away for later. Harry had seen, and experienced, plenty of violence at the cruel hands of others. It was understandable that he did not wish to witness more.

But after Tom was through with Dudley, he would move on. There were clients of Grunnings that Tom had yet to investigate. Vile, pathetic men who had laid hands on Harry. Tom would dispose of them without the mercy of a virtual existence. He would ensure that they suffered greatly for what they had done, and then he would end them—but not before robbing them of the wealth that they did not deserve.

"Tom?" Harry's quiet voice broke Tom free from his morbid thoughts.

"Yes?" Tom asked, mindful to keep his tone measured and gentle. He did view his Harry as a delicate flower of sorts. A beautiful, fiery rarity to be handled with a conscientious mind.

"I've been thinking." Harry scrubbed his hands over his knees. "I know it isn't safe for me to leave the manor because people might recognize me, but I've been thinking—" He paused, hands and body going still. His gaze, which had been fixed upon the picnic blanket, rose to meet Tom's. "What if we just—changed how I look? You could go into my code and make a few changes… It wouldn't be so hard, would it? I've been looking into tutorials and things, and I think we could even apply regular user mods to me—" The rush of his words came to a second, stilted halt. Harry bit down on his lower lip, his eyes full of admittedly well-concealed apprehension.

But Tom could sense the fear that lurked beneath the surface. However, Harry had no reason to be afraid of him. Even if Tom disagreed, he would never harm Harry. He would never stoop to the lows of the swine who had come before him.

"That sounds perfectly reasonable," Tom said with a half-smile.

Harry's eyes widened the slightest bit, green blossoms unfurling into the golden light of day. "Yeah?" Harry said, eagerness bleeding into his voice. "So you think you can do it?"

Tom loved Harry's joy. He loved to see it, to hear it, to touch it. "Of course. Why don't you send me what you've found so I can take a look and see what can be done?"

"Alright, I will." Harry smiled. The two small dimples that Tom had grown unbelievably fond of popped up on either side of Harry's face. Tom wanted to press the pad of his thumb to them, to examine the physical evidence of Harry's happiness with his own two hands.

"Is that all?" Tom pressed, prompted by a desire to draw forth more of reaction than anything else. He shuffled forward and laid a hand on Harry's knee. He kept most of his weight off, leaving only the light sensation of his palm and fingers curled over Harry's worn trousers.

Harry dropped his eyes to where they were touching. He never protested the hesitant physical contact that Tom initiated. Not since that first time, when he had asked—

Are you going to touch me, sir?

Tom did not like that memory. The implication that he would force himself on Harry, it made him sick. Harry needed to understand that Tom's devotion was true and pure, that it did not carry any of the pressure and expectations from the villains of before.

And Harry was comfortable with him now. Tom could touch his back or his shoulder without an adverse reaction. They had not embraced since the day of Harry's liberation, but Tom held onto the hope that with time, Harry would try again, this time without the darkness of the Dursleys hanging over them.

"Yeah," Harry said, "that's all." Then he lifted his hand, the motion stiff and clumsy, and settled it over top of Tom's.

Tom's chest warmed. He did not mind waiting. He did not mind giving Harry the time and space to see that there was no one else—that Tom was everything he could ever want or need. The two of them, together forever.

Harry had not asked to be set free, and perhaps this was because he knew the answer would not be what he wanted to hear. But Harry was here, he had not asked the question, and so Tom could convince himself that yes, Harry was content here with him, and yes, this was where Harry preferred to be.

It did not stop his own questions from rattling around in his skull—

Do you feel safe with me? Do you want to stay with me?

—but it helped.

Tom needed Harry. It had taken him a while to comprehend this, to admit it to himself. But it was the truth. What he wanted most in the world was for Harry to feel safe in his arms. He would cherish the miracle that Harry was, and thank the heavens that Harry had survived long enough for them to find their way to each other.

For some time, neither of them brought up the topic of altering Harry's appearance. As promised, Tom did read through the links that Harry had provided, and done some additional research on his own. But the idea of changing Harry—it appalled him.

Perhaps something could be done about the damage of Harry's childhood, the shrunken height and malnourished body, but Tom could not imagine Harry any other way. He did not want to lose, however temporarily, the sight of those lovely green eyes and wild locks of hair. Tom loved Harry's eyes. He made sure to say so often.

After a long day at his new workplace—an office job, dull and monotonous but it paid well and included the benefit of flexible hours—Tom liked to log on, to come home, and greet Harry at the house.

Sometimes they would curl together on the couch. Harry had consented to the loving bracket of Tom's arms, to rest his head upon Tom's shoulder and curl himself against Tom's chest. It was the happiest Tom could ever remember being, having Harry so close to him. To be the only person to experience Harry's quiet affection and adoration—for that was what it had to be. Harry adored him. Loved him.

"Harry, do you remember when you asked me to look into altering your appearance?"

Harry blinked, slow and deliberate. "Yeah?"

"After some more research, I believe it is very possible for me to do. And I have the perfect opportunity for you to try it out." Tom laid a hand on Harry's head, combed his fingers gently through the untidy strands. When Harry made a questioning noise, he continued, "My friends have been asking after your garden. It's high time to showcase the fruits of your labour."

"Your friends?" Harry said quietly.

Tom tightened his hold. "Don't worry. They won't harm you. I would never let them."

"It's not—it isn't that," Harry said hastily. He rotated so that he could glance up at Tom's face. "It's your friend, Abraxas."

Tom shook his head. "He won't remember you. Especially if he doesn't recognize you," he said reassuringly. "Besides, everyone wants to see your lovely work. My manor is the last garden designed by Grunnings. Naturally, people are curious."

"I suppose." Harry sighed. "You'll help me change how I look?"

"Of course." Tom pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead. Harry froze up, the occasional tremour of static rippling through his body like a discordant heartbeat.

Then Harry said, "I really do appreciate everything you've done for me, Tom, I really do. But my family—"

"They're not your family," Tom spat. "Not with the way they've treated you." He inhaled sharply, clutching at the reins of his anger. He reeled the rage back, bit by bit, until he felt he could speak without anger. Without upsetting Harry. "I'm not letting them go. Who knows what they would do, what they would say? If they went to the police, I could lose you. We could lose each other."

Harry shrunk down; the sight of it was like a dagger to Tom's heart. "I know, I know," Harry mumbled. "I don't want you to—to go to prison because of me, but Tom, this isn't right. It isn't right, you can't keep them there forever!" He clutched at Tom's shirt for a moment before dropping his hand and moving back. Moving away.

Tom felt his chest constrict, the pit of his stomach filling with ice. No. No. He would do whatever he wanted to the Dursleys because they deserved it. The setting of Hogwarts Online meant major physical sensations held no effect over its players. But the Dursleys no longer had bodies. They were composed of code, and as Harry had pointed out to him, code could be rewritten.

"I've taken care of everything," Tom said in a low voice. He wanted to soothe Harry's anxieties, but Harry was making this difficult. He was being difficult. "I don't want you to worry about them. I'll be hosting our garden party this weekend. Why don't you start thinking about how you want to look?"

Harry stared down at his lap. Tom hated this argument. He hated seeing Harry like this.

"Please, Harry," he said quietly. "Won't you forget about it all? For me. I understand that you find it upsetting. We don't have to talk about it anymore. We can just—just be happy together." That was all that he wanted.

Harry's face was blank, empty. He watched as Tom slowly extended a hand in invitation.

"Okay," Harry said after a moment, but the hesitation was all it took for Tom's heart to sour. Even when Harry laid his head back down and slid their hands together, fingers entwined, Tom could not help himself from wondering if it was all for show, if Harry was only humouring him.

But that night, before Tom disconnected for the day, Harry tipped forward and placed a kiss to Tom's cheek in farewell. It was not something he had ever done before. Tom felt relatively mollified by it, by Harry's attempt to mend the bridge between them.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Harry said with a faint smile. "And I'll think about what I want my avatar to look like for the party."

Tom smiled back. "That sounds perfect." Then he added, "I'll miss you, you know. I wish I could be with you all day long."

Harry's smile brightened the slightest bit. "I miss you, too. When you're gone," he said, almost shyly, and Tom felt the sutures on his heart melt away, leaving no scar behind.

The day of the garden party arrived with gorgeous weather to accompany it. The sun shone down in beautiful beams of gold, bringing light to each of Harry's lovely little details.

Harry's avatar had been adjusted as requested; his eyes were now a violent shade of purple, his hair a bold ginger-brown that was tied back into a low ponytail. His face was pale and faintly freckled, and his clothes were styled to suit the latest fashions for Hogwarts Online bots. To put it plainly, he looked nothing like himself, which was abhorrent, but Tom comforted himself with the fact that the disguise would only be required for a few hours.

As soon as their guests had left, Tom would put Harry back to normal.

"Are you nervous?" Harry asked.

Tom was not. Harry was the one who was nervous. "I'm sure everything will go well," Tom said. He laid a cautious hand on Harry's shoulder. "If at any time you feel compromised or uncomfortable, you will come to me."

"I will." Harry's mouth flattened out. "I feel… strange. I'm not used to looking like this."

Tom had added some extra height and weight to Harry's build. The end result meant Harry's motions were stiffer and clumsier than usual. Which may have been for the best; Harry was used to acting normal, acting human, around Tom. Now that they were to have visitors, he would need to resume imitating a bot.

"It's alright," Tom said in a soothing voice. "It's only for a little while." He touched his fingers to the new, unfamiliar curve of Harry's jaw. "This was what you wanted, wasn't it?"

Harry nodded. "I want to try," he said firmly.

Tom smiled with indulgence. "Of course." He placed a brief kiss on Harry's forehead. "Where would you like to wait? They might expect you in the entrance hall, or here in the garden, but I'll leave the choice to you."

Harry glanced around at the trees and flowers. "Out here? If that's alright."

"Outside it is." Tom touched a hand to his temple and summoned a fresh menu. Then he navigated to the virtual invites he had previously set up. One quick select of his contacts and the links were on their way.

Harry nodded absently and drifted towards the garden swing. The breeze today was faint; only a few discordant notes could be heard blowing through. Harry sat down and kicked his legs just enough to set the swing into motion. He couldn't stay there; when people arrived, he would have to stop. But for now, he could enjoy the simple pleasure of free movement while Tom watched.

People did not pay attention to bots. Harry had known this, had known that bots existed only to be abused and ordered about. But, perhaps, after spending so long with only Tom for company, he had forgotten. He had forgotten how it felt to be treated as lesser, to be derided and ignored by players who saw bots as objects disguised as people.

As the day wore on, as Harry waited hand and foot on Tom's wealthy friends, the spark of life gradually drained from his eyes. While his bot status remained, while he had no body to boast of, this was his fate. To be a slave.

There were positive moments. Compliments delivered to Tom about the beauty of the garden. Compliments on his fine taste and creative mind. Harry would perk slightly after hearing these things. Whenever it was possible to do so, Tom attributed the success of his garden to 'the bot from Grunnings'.

And what a shame it was that the company had gone under. A shame that the owners had fallen victim to faulty technology. Tom lamented the loss alongside his colleagues, but inwardly he preened with contentment.

His garden was Harry's masterpiece, a work of art that surpassed every garden that had come before it, purely because Tom had given Harry free rein to tear everything down and rebuild as he wished. To build the type of fantastical garden that had previously only existed in Harry's imagination.

Harry, generous soul he was, had kept on a majority of the designs from Tom's original concept. But there were hints of Harry hidden all around them. Hints that only Tom knew to look for, Harry's heart and soul tucked into every flower and bit of foliage.

When the party was over, when the guests were gone and Tom had temporarily disconnected to put Harry's appearance to rights, it was not the success of the party that made Tom's heart hum with joy. It was the realization in Harry's eyes, in the flat line of his lips, in the stiffness of his spine. It was the knowledge that Harry at last understood that Tom was right.

There could be no companionship, no safety, except by Tom's side. Under Tom's protection, in this very manor which Tom had also given Harry permission to decorate as he saw fit.

Tom reappeared in the center of the garden to find Harry—his Harry, not the ugly caricature that Harry had created for himself—once again seated on the garden swing.

"Did you enjoy yourself today?" Tom asked.

"It was nice." Harry kicked his legs a little higher, increasing the height of his arc.

"Everyone adores your garden," Tom said warmly as he approached. "It is your finest work to date." He waited for the timing to line up, then settled on the swing bench next to Harry..

"Thanks." Harry swung them back and forth, pumping his legs enough to power the swing for the both of them.

"And how was the body?" Tom asked. "Did it work well?"

"It was fine," Harry mumbled.

Tom let the silence hang in the air as he swung his legs in time with Harry's.

Partway through the party, Hogwarts Online had announced the winners of the Legacy box. Tom had barely glanced at the rest of the houses; the only one he cared for was the user listed as Salazar Slytherin's heir. Not his own username, for the locket was no longer in his possession, but that of a wealthy, well-known player based in America.

Someday in the future, Tom would hunt them down, too, and retrieve that which rightfully belonged to him. His locket and his title. Heir of Slytherin.

"I'm sorry," Tom said, once he felt that Harry had been given enough time to wallow, "if today was not what you had expected it to be."

Harry turned to look at him. "No, Tom, it's not—it's not that. I should have known. I just—" Harry broke off and sighed. It was a human sound. A human reaction of disappointment. "I spent so many years being a bot. I shouldn't have been surprised when they treated me like one."

"I'm sorry," Tom repeated. He closed his hand over Harry's. "You know, they don't really matter to me. Their opinions don't matter. I only ever befriended them for my own benefit. For personal gain. I never…" He paused, let his voice fill with warmth. "I never cared for anyone before I met you."

The left side of Harry's mouth tilted up. "You're the only one who's ever treated me like a real person," Harry admitted.

"Because you are real," Tom assured him. He swept his thumb over the top of Harry's hand. "You are as real as any of them. I'd even go as far as to say you have more personality."

Harry did crack a smile at that, vibrancy returning to his eyes as they crinkled on the sides. "I know we don't agree on everything," Harry said, "but I want you to know I do really appreciate everything you've done for me. You've been so kind, and I know I'm not perfect, I'm not good at anything other than gardening—"

"You are perfect." Tom stuck both feet firmly on the ground to halt the swing and took both of Harry's hands in his. "You are absolutely wonderful, Harry. I spent all day thinking about you. About coming home to you." He raised Harry's hands to his lips and kissed the knuckles. "I say this enough to make you sick of hearing it, I'm sure, but your safety and happiness are of the utmost importance to me. When I do things, when I ask you to do things, it is only because I care. Because I want what's best for us."

"I know," Harry said. His hands flickered with static and noise. "I know you do, Tom."

"I don't want to force you to pretend. To be something you're not. It hurt me deeply, today, to witness the way they treated you. I knew it would happen, I knew it would upset you, but I also knew you wanted to try. So I let it happen." Tom shook his head. "But now you must understand, Harry. You don't need to be upset in this way. You don't need to subject yourself to these sorts of situations. I will purchase other bots to manage the household. I will instruct them to listen to you. You will never be forced to undertake such despicable servitude again."

Harry closed his eyes and nodded once. "Maybe you're right," he said softly. "I mean, I can't change my status in the game. People are always going to see me as—as not human. As lesser."

Tom slid closer and slipped an arm around Harry's waist, pulling him close. "You are not lesser."

Harry sighed. "I don't want to put either of us in danger because I can't be happy with what I have. It's more than I thought I ever would have, anyway." He tucked himself closer to Tom, resting his head against Tom's shoulder. "You're more than I ever thought I would get to have."

Tom allowed Harry's words to wash over him like a warm ocean wave. "Remember," he said gently, "someday I may be able to get you a real body. Then you won't have to live in the game anymore. That's something to look forward to, isn't it?"

Harry made a soft noise of affirmation. He reached for Tom's free hand and tangled their fingers together. "Yeah," he said, "it's something to look forward to." Then he frowned. "But it'll be expensive, you know. I don't want you wasting all your money on that. You need to take care of yourself, too. I know you have plans. You said you had plans for the money you got from the locket."

"Of course I do," Tom said. He nuzzled the top of Harry's head. "I'm going to start a business. My current job is but a temporary measure. I have big plans for our future. The money will be put to good use in securing that future for us."

"For us," Harry echoed.

Tom touched on Harry's chin again, tilting the younger boy's head towards his own. Then, carefully, he removed Harry's glasses and tucked them into the front pocket of his shirt.

"You are the one I want to spend my life with," Tom said solemnly. "Your presence brings me great joy and I am so proud of everything that you do." He smiled, cupping the side of Harry's face with his hand. "I want you to be mine, Harry, not because you are property to be owned, but because you give yourself to me, willingly."

Harry trembled. His face shimmered with multicoloured distortions. Tom believed that Harry had never expected to be wanted. To be loved. He had never dared hope for a life outside of enslavement. But Tom had freed him and was willing to give him everything. All the love he deserved.

Slowly, Harry raised a hand and laid it over top of Tom's, both of their hands pressed over his cheek. "You mean it?" he whispered. "Do you mean it?"

"I won't ever abandon you," Tom promised. "I want you forever, my Harry."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. It was only for a second, and then they were open again, bright and wild and fixed on Tom's face. "I want you, too," Harry admitted. "But I'm scared."

"There is nothing to be afraid of." Tom lifted his other hand so that Harry was cradled securely between his palms, then leant in—slowly, slowly —for a kiss. Quick and soft, the press of his lips against Harry's motionless ones. He had wanted to kiss Harry for so long that it had grown into a physical ache, a pain that he suppressed whenever Harry's cheeks dimpled or eyes shone with delight.

But now, oh, the world felt right. Even though Harry did not feel human, though he lacked heat and the grainy texture that Tom associated with other players, he was perfect. He was better than Tom could have imagined.

Tom pulled back to examine Harry's reaction. Harry made a mild noise in the back of his throat, something like a hiccup. His hands moved to clutch at Tom's shirt, then he bumped his nose against Tom's cheek and shivered.

"Was that alright?" Tom murmured. He ran a soothing hand down Harry's back, brushing his fingertips along the curve of Harry's spine.

"Yes," Harry said, voice faint. "Yes, I—" He trembled again, the static of his avatar sparking colours where they were pressed against each other. "I don't know how to kiss," he mumbled into Tom's shoulder.

Tom nearly laughed. It would not have been a cruel laugh, but even fond laughter in the face of such a plaintive statement would not be taken well. In addition to that, Tom worried that Harry had negative associations with kissing—with physical affection in general. He did not want to dissuade Harry from kissing by being insensitive.

"I couldn't tell," Tom said, still unable to hide the faint thread of amusement in his voice as he ran a hand through Harry's messy hair. "I might have to kiss you again to see if it's noticeable."

Harry blushed. His cheeks flooded with a rosy colour. Then his eyes widened and he nearly fell over as he clapped his hands to his face. "What is this?" he demanded.

Tom grinned. "I may have found a way to make more adjustments to your code. More mods for your natural state, so you can express yourself more accurately."

The blush was steadily working its way up to Harry's ears. "This seems more like something for you than something for me," Harry said stubbornly.

Tom did laugh this time, his joy ringing clearly in the magnificent garden as he gathered Harry back into his arms and touched his lips to Harry's reddened cheeks, one after the other.

Harry squirmed as though trying to get away, but his arms slipped around Tom's shoulders, holding himself close. "This better not be all that you changed," Harry grumbled as Tom relished in the sensation of having Harry so close to him.

Tom hummed softly in response. "I'll tell you more in exchange for a kiss."

"A kiss?" Harry repeated, his voice pitched in such a way that it managed to convey how unimpressed he was by Tom's offer.

"Or two." Tom kissed Harry's cheek again, unable to help himself.

Harry made a funny exhale sound that Tom had learned to associate with Harry's exasperation. "I suppose I could be convinced," Harry said, but the brightness of his eyes gave away his underlying excitement, an excitement that could not be dampened by any amount of nervousness.

So Tom kissed him again. Then a second time, as mentioned. Then a third time, because Harry was smiling, dimples and all, and Tom was a weak man when it came to those dimples.

Harry was still smiling as they pulled away from each other. He looked positively dazzling, giddy on the high of receiving Tom's affection. His eyes shone like gemstones. Tom was enamoured. Harry was so beautiful.

Tom would commission paintings of Harry. Gorgeous art pieces to display in their home. Harry dressed in jewels and surrounded by flowers. Artistic nudes for their private bedroom.

"Tom?"

"Mmm. Yes?"

"Once things are calm again and—and people aren't talking about the Dursleys anymore, I had an idea." Harry paused. "I was thinking I could do garden work again, except it could be different. We could buy property like—like the other house you bought. And I could fix it up for you. Decorate the insides and the outsides, and then you could resell it for more money. People would pay for that, right? They'd pay to have a nice house all done up for them."

Tom hadn't wanted Harry to feel pressured into doing work, but he did worry that Harry would grow restless alone in the manor. If Tom purchased private properties for Harry to work on, Harry would be safe and allowed to feel productive. It was a good compromise that Tom could support.

"If you want to, then of course," Tom said earnestly. "I think it sounds like a wonderful idea. We can look into buying a property or two tomorrow, how about that?"

Harry smiled, a generous gleam in his vibrant eyes. "Thank you, Tom."

The sight of Harry's smile suffused Tom's chest with so much warmth he felt slightly dizzy. "Anything for you," Tom promised. "Anything at all."

Harry was reliant on him for everything. For safety, for shelter. For love and affection. And it would stay that way, Tom would make sure of it. He would be everything that Harry needed so that there would never be reason to seek more. So there would never be a reason to leave, even after Tom succeeded at providing Harry with a real body.

"Thank you," Harry repeated. He was blushing again. He promptly tucked his face against Tom's chest, hiding it there. Tom let him, let Harry nuzzle close and allow his embarrassment to fade.

Around them, the sky began to dim as the sun set over the horizon. Tom summoned a blanket from his inventory and wrapped it around himself and Harry. Fireflies popped up here and there, tiny constellations clustered around the boxwood bushes that Harry had planted so many weeks ago.

Here in the gardens of Riddle Manor, surrounded by silver trees and limelight flowers, all was well.

A/N:

there will be an epilogue to follow that will take place after a timeskip. i haven't decided how long the timeskip will be. feel free to shoot some of what you'd like to see into the reviews, and i shall consider it.