By the time Bruce stopped by the next morning, Celine had a steady caffeine buzz going. As she had suspected, John slipped out sometime after he'd woken up. She made herself some coffee, showered, re-bandaged and re-dressed her hand, watered the wilting flowers, took all of her medications, received an excited text back of confirmation from Wesley, and was munching on a banana when Bruce knocked on the door.

He eyed her outfit with a – dare she say it – impressed scan.

"Why do you look better in a suit than I do?" was his first comment.

She was geared in matching pinstriped navy-blue pants, vest and jacket – all tailored perfectly to her curvy form. A white dress shirt rested beneath the get up with a silver tie tucked tightly into the vest. Her shoulder-length hair had been hand-brushed with mousse, giving her blonde locks a wavy, tousled appearance.

"Genetics." She shrugged. "Do you want a bite of my banana?"

His lips twitched.

"That's not a question many men can get away with asking. I'm fine, thank you. How're you feeling?"

"Better," she admitted. "John stopped by last night-."

Immediately, his expression grew stormy.

"-so I could give him his medication," she finished. "He's going to be on what he was when he was in Arkham, as well as something else that can hopefully stabilize his more…severe mood swings that cause Scarecrow to take control. We discussed the lawsuit…he's convinced it'll fall through."

He absorbed all the information she'd unloaded on him.

"How did you manage to get him medicine?"

"I did a favor for a psychiatrist at Arkham. They returned it in kind."

She could tell he wanted to hound her further on this, but the prospect of one of his nemesis being on medication appeared to dissuade him.

"So, he'll be…what, neutered?"

"His better half will have full reign. Scarecrow will be…muted, so to speak. He'll get words in, but it's ultimately on John to make decisions."

"Let's hope those decisions won't get him locked up again. This favor the psychiatrist owed you…dare I ask?"

"Probably not. I don't know if I've ever told you this before, but you are a more…law abiding person than I am. That's not to say I make it a point to break them…I'm a good girl…for the most part. But if getting medicine – however morally ambiguous the transaction was – will help deter a threat like Scarecrow, I'm willing to make that decision. You're not. That's nothing against you, I'd love to have that clean of a conscience, but sometimes murky choices need to be made – on the premise they don't harm anyone - to prevent larger catastrophes from occurring. Does that make sense?"

"Yes…I know your heart comes from the right place. Sometimes, I wish I could easily make those decisions too. I suppose that's why you're such an invaluable friend to me."

"So, we're cool?"

She offered him her fist.

He bumped it.

"Yes, we're…cool. I'm glad he was able to help alleviate some of your worries. Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

The drive to the courthouse didn't take longer than a half hour and was done in relative silence. Celine didn't let on that she dreaded seeing Martha Graves again; though she believed this feeling to be mutual. Amazing how much of a stir this woman had caused in such a short period of time.

Their attorney greeted them on the steps, looking far more chipper than he had a right being. Then again, perhaps his attitude alluded to how the appeal would turn out.

Martha Graves was seated with her attorney when she and Bruce entered the courtroom; not so much as sparing them a glance. Her hair was tightly wound in a bun and she was outfitted in a dark fuchsia dress with a black cardigan thrown over top. Every so often she would dab at her eyes with a tissue. In response, her attorney would pat her soothingly on the back.

She and Bruce barely resisted the urge to roll their eyes.

"You got this," he encouraged before she took her place up front. "Our motion to dismiss makes a lot more sense than her complaint. It won't take long for the judge to see this."

"What if the judge can't see beyond the tears? It doesn't look good on me to appear so stoic and for her to be so…so…devastated."

"Cases aren't won with theatrics. If she doesn't realize that, she's in for a rude awakening."

Before she took her seat, Taj arrived in a gray suit that looked suspiciously like the one he'd planned to wear to her funeral.

Let's hope that's not a sign of things to come.

"I'm here as emotional support. Good luck!"

He and Bruce took the bench closest to her table.

The overseeing judge – Judge Shapiro – started out by asking Martha's attorney to read through the complaint being filed.

Celine nearly went into cardiac arrest upon realizing the complaint had been reworked since she'd read it yesterday with her lawyers. On top of the negligence she was being accused of, the settlement amount Martha requested had skyrocketed from $225,000 to $1.3 million. In addition to the complaint was a request for Dr. Suarez to undergo a mandatory hearing with the State's Psychology Licensure Association so they could assess whether his actions were grounds for revoking his psychologist license.

Her attorney, thankfully, refused to let this slide.

"Neither I nor the defendant were made aware of alterations to the complaint; neither were we given an updated version of the motion filed."

"A letter was sent to the defense stating two versions of the complaint existed and either could be filed, Miss Graves' wishes permitted," the opposing attorney returned. "In light of…recent events, Miss Graves opted for the latter complaint rather than the former the defense received."

Her attorney shook his head and brought out a paper from his opened briefcase.

"The letter in question reads "the two complaints vary only in the settlement amount requested." There is no mention of liability falling onto Dr. Suarez."

She briefly tuned out of the back-and-forth battle of specifics and closed her eyes, fingers interlocking with each other.

By "in light of recent events" does he mean my meeting with Martha? Did I leave that wretched of an impression on her that suing for $225,000 wasn't enough? Advertisements aside, $1.3 million isn't going to be an easy deficit to recover from. She could ruin me if the judge upholds her claim.

Her phone vibrated under her right thigh. In her nervousness, she'd forgotten to turn it off prior to entering the courtroom.

As subtly as possible, she glanced down. The message was from John.

They are bickering back and forth like children. I am surprised the judge is allowing it.

She straightened up, so very tempted to look behind her. Knowing he was there brightened her demeanor somewhat. Joker had it right. Bruce, Taj, John…she really did have her own fan club.

Judge Shapiro – seemingly having had enough of the oscillation of technicalities – called for a short recess in which he asked to read over the letter Martha's attorney had sent them regarding the two "potential" claims.

During this time, Martha stood and excused herself to the bathroom. When Celine turned around, her brows furrowed. John was nowhere to be found.

How does he know what's happening?

She walked over to Bruce and Taj with a poor attempt at a smile.

"I know what section of that letter she's trying to twist," Bruce grumbled, looking the most agitated she'd ever seen him. "It was in the second to last paragraph…remember the sentence…"Miss Graves' emotional state permitting, slight alterations may be added up to the date of the claim"…she had to have changed that early this morning. But not so early that we could get a copy of the update. I-."

He ran a hand through his slicked back hair.

"-I have not loathed a person this strongly in a very long time."

"I'm the reason she changed it, aren't I?" she digested. "If I had never gone to see her last night and mentioned Dr. Suarez-."

Bruce waved her off before she could descend down that rabbit hole.

"She would have done that to spite us had you met with her or not. This is all very intentional and I can only hope the judge recognizes that."

Martha returned just as Judge Shapiro ended the recess. Her face was pale as a sheet and every so often she would swipe at beads of sweat that had pooled at the back of her neck.

Celine didn't have long to contemplate this change of mood. Judge Shapiro cleared his throat and declared Martha's additions to the complaint to be sound, though he strongly advised her attorney in future documents to use more clear, concise language to avoid confusion.

She didn't have to turn to her attorney to know he was absolutely fuming. Personally, she was feeling a little defeated. She had never before met a person who had it out for her so badly. It wasn't even a side effect of grief at this point. Something about her made Martha want to bury her into the ground and keep her there.

"And now the defense will read the action for dismissal," Judge Shapiro stated, gesturing to her attorney.

He stood with the three pages she, Bruce, and their counsel had arranged and approved the day prior. Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth.

"Wait!"

Everyone's heads shot to Martha.

She was glaring down at her lap, biting painfully into her lip.

Judge Shapiro's brows furrowed. Her attorney appeared just as perplexed.

"I-." She swallowed harshly. "I am revoking my complaint against Miss Harlow and her app. I…offer her my sincerest apologies and…regret any emotional grievances I may have unjustly placed upon her."

Celine's mouth dropped open. She looked at her attorney and then back at Martha.

Martha's attorney was whispering frantically into her ear, but she seemed not to hear him.

"You…you are dropping your formal complaint against the defense?" Judge Shapiro confirmed.

"Y-yes."

There were a few seconds of heavy silence. As if the room was waiting for her to change her mind.

"Motion granted. The lawsuit is hereby dismissed."

He banged his gavel and proceeded to ask for the next case.

"What just happened?" she mumbled to her attorney.

He shook his head, shrugging with one shoulder.

"She took a piss and grew a heart. Your guess is as good as mine. We would have won either way, the judge wouldn't have been able to overlook how tight the terms and conditions were. You can't battle something the victim knowingly and, on the record, agreed to use at her own discretion."

Before she could respond, Bruce and Taj were at her side. They matched her confusion, but it quickly made way for relief.

"So…we just won?" Taj clarified, studying them all to make sure.

"It would appear that way," Bruce answered slowly.

She looked up to find Martha, but the woman had already scurried out of the room.

It was only when they were heading out of the courthouse – Bruce quietly thanking their attorney – that she received another text from John.

Congratulations.

She stopped in place and shot him back a text.

What did you do?

He took his sweet time responding. She shuffled in place on the top step of the courthouse; ignoring the two photographs snapped of her, Bruce, and their attorney by a member of the press.

You had mentioned last night Miss Graves allowed her daughter to be sexually abused by her boyfriend. I paid her a visit in the bathroom and merely…reminded her what troubles could be unleashed upon her should she pursue a trial.

She shook her head.

We had no hard evidence of the abuse, only a phone conversation we couldn't prove to the court happened.

Their attorney offered a final farewell to them before heading to his car.

She did not know this and appeared too frazzled to even consider calling my bluff. Consider this my thank you for acquiring what you did. I hope her apology was…sufficient. If not, I can pay her another visit.

"Celine?"

Lowering her phone, she looked at Bruce.

"How about it?"

"How about what?"

"Lunch," Taj input. "To celebrate."

Does this warrant celebration? John intervened on my behalf…we didn't technically win. Not by legal means anyway.

Then again, hadn't she just earlier told Bruce she was willing to do compromising things for someone else's betterment? What was the difference between what she'd done and what John had done? It was all in the name of helping someone that deserved it. She may not have been willing to pull that bluff, but he was. And…she was all the better for it.

"Sure," she agreed. "Lunch sounds great."

Before they gathered inside of Bruce's car, she sent John a final text back.

Thank you

They chose a café and bistro ten minutes away from the courthouse. The inside was sparsely populated, and the trio ended up settling down at a corner booth. Bruce and Taj took the seat across from her.

It was a personal tic of hers that wherever she sat inside a place to eat, she had to have eyes on the front door. She didn't think it was a paranoia thing, merely curiosity. She liked to see who was coming and going.

Now that the lawsuit was officially behind them, she finally felt like she could breathe. One very painful headache down.

Speaking of headaches, she was surprised Joker hadn't texted her once yet today. Perhaps what she'd said on the bus got through to him. How could any form of a relationship bloom when one person couldn't promise not to harm the other? No matter their similarities, the discrepancies were too glaring to overlook.

I'm not disappointed about that. I'm not. He truly belongs with someone just like him…I wonder if his profile is getting any hits.

She snorted at that, relieved neither Taj or Bruce picked up on it. They were in a passionate discussion about which players were being transferred to what teams before the English Premiere League season begun. Soccer wasn't her thing, but it was the most tolerable sport she could watch, with the exception of table tennis. She was surprised it took them so long to realize they shared that commonality.

Content to pick at her food and sporadically tune in and out of their conversation, she worked on responding back to Wesley. He'd texted just shortly after they'd sat down with a list of countries he wanted to hit. It was much slimmer than she anticipated, and she mentioned as much.

You're the birthday girl. Where you go, I follow.

She tried not to smile like a dork at the response.

It took an hour for them to finish lunch and by that time Taj was itching to head out. Tuesdays were apparently the day his online Super Smash Bros league met, and he was rapidly making a name for himself as an unbeaten contender.

"I've played as Kirby for the past three years, he's bubblegum inside my heart," he relayed. "The key is to hit the buttons like you're having a stroke…a strategic one."

Before he headed out, they'd gotten onto the topic of her three months excursion around the world.

"You don't have to if you're not comfortable," Taj reassured. "Because of the US's involvement in that general region of the world, Americans are sometimes easy targets for kidnappings or killings. But that's namely by extremists or hardline nationalists, it's not a reflection of the people in the area. I grew up in a part of Pakistan called Swat Valley. Celine…there's no place on Earth that can contend with how beautiful it is there. Rivers, forests, mountains, valleys, lakes…I'm long overdue for a trip back. I have aunts and uncles I can get in touch with that'll show you around. I promise you won't regret it."

Her brows furrowed.

"Swat Valley? Isn't that where Malala Yousafzai was from?"

"The very same."

"Would your aunts and uncles mind?"

"Not in the least. The beauty of the area…it's one of the reasons why a lot of people don't leave, despite the turmoil of years prior."

"If they're okay with it, then hell yes I'm on board."

"Awesome. I'll call them this week and get back with you on what time frame works best for them. Um…Skype me if you have the reception when you're there. It'll get my ass into gear about ordering a plane ticket."

"Will do."

He threw them a peace sign before exiting the café.

Bruce finished up the last of his coffee and she the last of hers.

"You want to stop at mine for a little bit?" he asked. "I have to return your knife and Aesop's been dying to see you again."

"Yes please."

As Bruce set off to his place, Celine wrote out a lengthy text to Stephanie.

I'm heading to Maine beginning of next week. Would you be willing to assemble the usual care package for me? For that first qtr, preferably a hybrid or something sativa dominant. If you still have access to Chemdawg, I'll be a giddy gal. If not, no worries, I trust your judgment. That other qtr…not sure if you're still growing those psilocybe azurescens…whatever you've got I'm not picky, just remember how…potent they were. I was convinced I was seeing and communicating with tree spirits…and I may have danced naked with them under a rainstorm…as one normally does. Thank you again for helping me out not just with this but getting me into character last week. I appreciate you more than words can express.

Stephanie was a notoriously inconsistent texter, so she didn't anticipate a response back until possibly later in the week. It was all about catching her in the right frame of mind. All her life she had struggled with ADHD. Not thrilled with how robotic medication made her feel, she relied on marijuana to soothe her overactive mind. Rarely was she not stoned and depending on the strain she had in her possession, hearing back from her might be immediate or it might be ten days later. You never really knew with her.

When they arrived at Bruce's penthouse, Aesop was perched on a stool overlooking the city skyline. In front of him was a wooden easel with a nearly blank canvas sitting on it.

"I needed to distract him from being so helpful," Bruce whispered to her. "Alfred was threatening to seek employment elsewhere. I think he was kidding…but I didn't want to take that chance."

He'd only painted in the very top right corner. Nothing that held form; it was an abstract melding of colors. Swirls of indigo, charcoal, and onyx with specs of a frosty white and sweltering crimson dotted within. From a distance, it looked like a wormhole.

"I get to actually see you work!" she exclaimed.

Aesop spun around, eyes growing wide upon taking her in. They dashed toward one another; him scooping her up in a hug that had her throwing both arms and legs around him.

"I'll leave you two to get reacquainted," Bruce said, retreating to his bedroom to change.

He twirled them around; their joyous laughter getting muffled against each other.

"Thank god," he murmured, squeezing her. "How're you feeling? How did the lawsuit appeal go?"

They pulled away the instant she was back on her feet.

"Feeling decent, all things considering. Tired, but the caffeine is keeping that at bay. And the lawsuit was tossed. Martha had a change of heart. How are you? I-it's surreal to see you actually painting…how does it feel to be back at it again?"

"Doing really well. Wayne is…very laid back. No wonder you're able to keep your head on straight…he's actually…a good guy. I wasn't expecting that."

He scratched the back of his head at this admission, suddenly finding the floor of great interest.

"I wasn't expecting it either when I first met him," she divulged. "He purposefully baits the tabloids into thinking he's nothing more than a shallow playboy. Which makes meeting him…truly meeting him that is…quite a surprise."

"Exactly," he agreed. "And…painting's been…foreign. I don't think I've held a brush in my hand since closing the gallery on Simmons Street. Relearning how to hold one, what to paint…it's all there, I just have to find my way back to it."

She landed her gaze on the canvas.

"What prompted this, if you don't mind me asking? You've gotta remember…I was-am a big fan of yours. I will geek out over whatever you create."

He ran a hand through his hair, twisting back to examine the beginnings of a concept.

"I was thinking of our very first conversation. Being somewhere you don't have to worry about getting shot at randomly by a homicidal clown tends to put life into perspective. You…are fond of the universe. That's what I remember most. You have faith in it, despite the chaos that can occur- gamma ray bursts, supernovas, blackholes, planetary and galaxy collisions…if I remember from grade school correctly the universe after the big bang was extremely volatile…a hotbed for all sorts of particles. Never ending pandemonium." He eyed the painting with a tilt of the head. "That's a feeling I've long related to. But it's contained only to this portion of the canvas." His hand circled the conglomeration of color. "Because you…you made me realize that's not all there is. If you are willing to endure the right type of chaos, everything…balances itself out. A brand-new portion of the universe can be exposed to you. I kind of consider you…an expanding galaxy. All galaxies expand I suppose, but you expand with purpose. And I just happened to come across you at the right time. Near the bottom half of the left corner…that's where you will begin. Certain colors come to mind when I think of you. Gold, violet, aqua…..am I weirding you out?"

She shook her head, fumbling for the words.

"I'm…I'm flattered. Truly. I can't wait to see how it turns out."

"You and me both."

Her cheeks burned hotter each time her eyes scanned the canvas. Never in her wildest dreams did she think one of her favorite artists would paint a piece inspired by her. And with such a touching explanation at that…flattered wasn't nearly a strong enough word.

Aesop glanced behind them, shoulders easing upon realizing Bruce was still in his room. He leaned toward her and lowered his voice.

"Has uh…has Joker paid you a visit at all?"

Her smile crumbled.

"Yeah. My last night at the hospital. He butchered Gil and showed me his zip-locked body parts."

He winced.

"Shit."

"That's…something I've been meaning to talk to you about. He's made me an ultimatum of sorts. So long as I respond to his texts, he doesn't break into this apartment and gut you like a fish."

Groaning, he scratched the back of his head.

"I take it he's been driving you crazy?"

"He was…but he's been silent today. We had an…encounter yesterday. I think I got through to him about how little I trusted him. Hopefully, he'll realize I'm not worth the effort and leave me alone."

"I wouldn't bet on it," he countered. "If he took the time to kill Gil in such an…unfriendly manner…then I doubt you're in the clear just yet. You don't have to respond to him if you don't want to."

"He'll kill you if I don't."

He shrugged.

"Wayne's got a panic room I can always hide out in should he pay me a visit. His security is top notch. Plus, I'm armed and have been in a 'shoot first, ask questions later' mentality since dipping out on him. He can try using that knife on me…it won't fare well. That ultimatum is nothing more than a scare tactic to bend you to his whim. I won't allow it…unless you enjoy texting him."

She made a face at him.

"Then don't. I'm a big boy, I know the choice I made. You shouldn't have to bear the burden of it. Speaking of knives…"

He glanced at Bruce's room again.

"That one you had on you…it's one of Joker's isn't it?"

"…yeah."

"I thought I recognized it. Wayne asked me if it was his…I played dumb. He asks me questions here and there, mostly about Joker ordering me to stalk you. He's more worried than he lets on about…I don't know what to call it…his fixation with you?"

She didn't care for the term but couldn't think of a more appropriate word right then.

"Just a heads up," he added. "He suspects you're not telling him everything."

I shouldn't be surprised. This thing with Joker…it has to end. I'm not willing to lose Bruce's friendship over it. I'm not willing to lose my life over it.

"Thanks Ace, I'll keep it in mind."

He nodded.

"So, what's this I hear about you abandoning us for three months to gallivant around the world? With another one of Joker's hostages at that…it never ceases to amaze me the types of friendships you strike up."

Soothed by the change in topic, she launched into the story of the birthday present Wesley had gifted her. At the same time, her brain was gunning for ideas on how to lose Joker's interest once and for all…that didn't end in her painful, drawn out death.

By the time Bruce dropped her off at home, evening was setting in. For dinner, Alfred had oven baked some salmon filets bathed in lemon juice and rosemary as well as diced red potatoes. She'd been struck somewhat by how easily Aesop and Bruce got along. They both carried the same dry sense of humor and weren't shy about going back and forth with one another on a variety of topics. The day's events had begun to wear on her by that point, so she'd been content to lean back and watch. It crossed her mind multiple times throughout the meal how blessed she was to have the friends she did. Now that the Martha Graves situation had been handled, she set her intentions on seeing Agatha again.

I know you said I can stop by whenever, but what works best for you?

She picked up the occasional flower petal off the floor while waiting for a response. On a coffee table in the living room she had her notebook spread open. In it was a list of the seven continents and beneath them the countries she and Wesley mutually agreed were must visits. It helped immensely getting it all written out. The event seemed realer to her.

Similarly, on another page she'd jotted down all the responsibilities she needed to tend to, so the trip was possible. Tomorrow, she would call her primary physician to make sure she was up to date on all her shots and speak with her landlord about whether her lease required rent to be paid during those three months of absence. She also planned to stop by a few stores and pick up some other necessities prudent to their travels.

When her phone dinged, she expected a reply from Agatha.

Instead, it was Taj.

Hey…you're going to want to turn on channel 6.

She did so with a bad feeling brewing in her stomach.

The channel Taj spoke of was in the midst of airing a live interview with-

"Fuck."

She dropped down into the couch, running both hands through her hair.

Martha Graves was positioned primly in one chair and Carl Prewitt – the interviewer for his self-titled nightly newscast What's Happening Gotham? with Carl Prewitt – sat in another. She tuned in with a sigh that made her bones ache.

"-my baby girl entrusted Miss Harlow's app to help her. She entrusted the doctors Miss Harlow had to give her the help she desperately needed. There is no doubt in my mind had this Oz app not existed, my darling Elle would still be alive."

Carl shifted forward; fingers interlocked atop one knee.

"And has Miss Harlow reached out to you since your daughter's death?"

Martha sniffled once.

"Her investor – Bruce Wayne – tried to make it go away by paying for the funeral. I was disgusted and refused to accept. Like Jesus Christ, I am not so easily tempted."

She groaned, palming her forehead. No doubt Taj had given a heads up to Bruce already. She was glad not to be in the same room as him right now. His reaction was probably a little less composed than her own.

Carl transitioned the questions to the lawsuit appeal earlier in the day.

"Oh, I don't doubt Mr. Wayne had the judge paid off," she emphasized, nodding firmly. "There's no other explanation for why justice wasn't granted to me. Mr. Wayne and Miss Harlow are no better than the common crook. They abuse the legal system to keep their app running. I wouldn't be surprised to learn other lawsuits have mysteriously been tossed out."

She scoffed, fighting the urge to curse at the television screen. The woman was lying through her teeth!

"You have my full condolences," Carl assured, offering her his hand. "What would you like to say to those who are either users of Oz or are considering utilizing the app?"

"Miss Harlow is a wolf in sheep's clothing," she stated. "She does not have anybody's best interest at heart…other than her bank account. The licensed psychologists she's acquired for her app are poorly trained and ill-equipped to deal with those suffering from mental disorders. I've said it once and I'll say it again- church is the way to go. Only there will these afflicted individuals find the cure they're looking for."

Carl should have come back with "If church is the answer, why isn't Elle still with us?"

But he opted for the route of controversy.

"So, you suggest a boycott be placed on Oz Ascending?"

"Without question. Miss Harlow is in no position to facilitate an app dealing with the well-being of others. She is as rotten and greedy as they come. I may not have gotten my justice, but God will surely judge her accordingly. This…makes my daughter's loss just a little more bearable."

They went to commercial break, leaving her to gape uselessly at the screen.

That…that…that conniving bi-.

She tried to even out her breathing, massaging the inside of her palms as a means of calming down.

Okay…okay…think. Think. I know the truth. That has to count for something, doesn't it?

She wasn't so sure. Carl had been almost gleeful in stirring up Martha's hysteria. Once news of this reached beyond channel 6, she didn't put it past other media sources not to capitalize on the tragedy. And they certainly didn't need to know the truth to make that happen.

Her phone dinged with a text. She glanced down.

First thing tomorrow I'm meeting with our lawyers again. This is slander. She won't get away with it.

She read Bruce's message five times before discarding her phone on the table in front of her.

It won't matter much anyway. Even if a trial comes out of this to hold her accountable, it'll be months down the line. This interview…this is what will marinate in everyone's mind until then.

She clicked off the TV before the program could return to air. Her bed suddenly sounded like the coziest place in the world.

A drink would be nice too.

She stubbed out that thought before it could manifest into anything other than a passing urge. Martha Graves would not be responsible for upending the carefully maintained sobriety she'd worked years to cultivate.

At this point all she could do was rest. Rest and prepare for the incoming storm.

Hurricane Martha has made landfall. Let's see how our girl handles it :).