Annabeth was a strong proponent of always having a plan. To her great annoyance, however, it was extraordinarily difficult to create one when she could scarcely remember what the kingdom looked like.
For so long, she'd been trapped in a perfect little bubble of niceties and graciousness. She'd foolishly perceived it as her home, but now she wondered if a life removed from reality was a life worth living.
She'd never thought her isolation might be a deficiency until now. For years, she and her sister had been sequestered from their subjects. She never considered that the guards might and servants might be the only ones who truly knew the outside world. Even their tutors had been outsiders, a detail that hadn't struck her as odd until dinner.
Family dinner.
She was playing a dangerous game. Aligning herself with Percy when their relationship was already so strained was exceedingly risky, but the alternative seemed worse. Something about the notion of knowing she did not know Percy's intentions comforted her. Strangely enough, it was easier knowing she didn't know, than having to wonder.
Annabeth thought of Luke. She feared he would propose soon. His instance to press the marriage conversation certainly seemed to indicate so. And though, as the youngest daughter, she could not marry before her sister, but her sister's marriage grew closer by the second.
Annabeth kicked at the long grass outside the stables, her stomach twisting itself into knots at the thought.
"Do you often loiter around the grounds in a dark cloak?" She heard her sister's airy chuckle carry across the dark night.
It was nearly midnight, almost time for her to meet Percy. What was Rachel doing out so late? And more importantly, how would Annabeth talk her way out of this?
"I'm trying out a new color," Annabeth supplied evenly, pivoting away from the stables and towards Rachel. "Besides, I didn't want to risk being easily spotted now that rebels attacks are a frequent occurrence."
"Why be out at all then?" Rachel frowned, exhaling.
Annabeth swallowed thickly, her muscles straining to come up with a believable lie. She hated lying to her sister, but it was necessary—right? With the information she gained from her journey with Percy, she hoped to unravel the mystery plaguing their family. Surely that was a worthy enough cause for a simple lie—or several.
"Sometimes," Annabeth began, appealing to her sister's newfound disliking for the castle's stuffy atmosphere. "The castle is suffocating. I wanted some fresh air. I wanted to feel normal."
"Mhm," Rachel hummed in understanding, bobbing her head reverently. "Me too." A small smile slid across her lips, making Annabeth suddenly extraordinarily guilty.
"You're right though," Annabeth told her, wrapping her hand around her sister's arm and beckoning her back towards the castle. "It's dangerous to be out so late. We should head inside."
"I was—" Rachel cut herself off, biting her lip as she glanced behind her. "I was hoping to catch Percy when he got back from his dinner, but I guess it has gone long."
"I wouldn't worry," Annabeth assured her, forcing a smile. "He's probably just running late. You'll see him tomorrow."
"That reminds me," Rachel said, eyes widening slightly. She turned towards Annabeth as they both made their way back to the castle. "I have something I want to talk to you about."
"Something?" Annabeth echoed quietly.
"It's…" Rachel paused, considering her words. "I've been thinking about it for a while. I wanted to ask well, it's of a serious nature but—" she saw Annabeth's concern. "No, no—nothing to worry about!"
Annabeth sighed.
"But if want to come to my bedroom," Rachel continued. "We could talk. I'd rather we had privacy."
"Tonight?" Annabeth questioned nervously, her muscles strumming with tension.
"Yeah," Rachel confirmed with a delicate nod. "Why?" She frowned. "Do you have plans—is it Luke?—"
"No," Annabeth rejected abruptly; the words leaving her harsher than she'd meant them. "It's just—I'm exhausted," she lied, softening. "Could we talk tomorrow?" She asked hopefully. "I'll come to your room first thing in the morning."
"Well not first thing," Rachel laughed good-naturedly, bumping Annabeth with her shoulder. Warmth filled her at the tender gesture. "I hardly want to speak to my maids let alone you so early."
"Of course," Annabeth chuckled, mirroring her expression. "I'd almost forgotten."
By the time Annabeth managed to slip away from her sister, offering her a dozen excuses and promises, it was nearly 12:15. And it was until 15 minutes after that that she reached the stables again, guilt singing at her lungs.
"You're late," Percy noted.
"I know," Annabeth huffed, advancing towards him. "I do know how to tell time."
He was leaning back against an exterior beam, still dressed in his dinner clothes. His dark hair was swept back and his lips were winter wet. He looked rather handsome—though she would have never admitted it out loud.
"Hm," Percy hummed casually, turning into the stable as she reached him. "And here I thought even time revolved around you."
Annabeth rolled her eyes, biting her tongue as she followed him. She considered telling him the reason she was late, but the notion made her stomach turn. Rachel was already an ever-present companion, felt even if she wasn't seen, her presence extending across the space between them, punching Annabeth in the gut, begging, demanding why why why—
It was a dangerous thing—guilt—it would corrode her insides without consent. And yet, no amount of it could fix the past. No amount of remorse would make up for the way Percy's hands had clutched at her waist or the way her head had lulled in bliss.
Annabeth eye's fluttered shut, trying to shutter away the feeling.
"Are you alright?" Percy's voice broke her from her worries, his concerned eyes coming into focus. He was holding out a hand like he might help her onto her horse. The thought made her irrationally anxious.
"Obviously," she returned sharply, shaking off any intrusive thoughts. She shoved his hand out of the way and mounted her horse, hiding any struggle. She had more important things to deal with right now. "Can we go?"
"Obviously, princess," Percy countered, his tongue just as sharp before mirroring her movements and spurring his horse into action.
He sped off without another word, leaving Annabeth with little to do but scowl and follow.
They had been riding for just over an hour when the faded lights of the city began to peek through the night. Percy slowed as they reached the outskirts of civilization, coming to a stop atop a hill overlooking the center.
"Why are we stopping?" Annabeth questioned, slowing her horse as she approached him.
The cold wind that had whipped across her skin died down, dissipating into an ominous breeze that seemed to skate across her collarbones with ease.
"I have to know where we're going," Percy explained, turning to face her. "The city is far too large, we'll spend all night wandering."
His eyes scanned her figure. She wondered faintly what he could be looking for.
"I—" Annabeth began but paused, rethinking her words.
She had intended to dismiss his request. She wasn't eager to grant him further information, especially when he so obviously harbored nefarious intent. But as she stared out at the town that had grown into a city in the years she'd been away, she realized just how little she knew about her people. Shame pressed itself into the gaps between her fingers, tightening her grip on the reins.
"There's a bookstore," she told him, pressing her lips together. "I visited it when I was a child. I think it was located in the Corinth district. I've maintained correspondence with the owner since then. I have to find it—find him."
"Why?" Percy inquired, furrowing his brow.
"I—I told you," Annabeth sighed. "I am beginning to doubt those around me, and I intend to discover whether or not I can trust him."
"So that what's you seek then," Percy nodded, following her gaze out to the darkened structures that littered the city skyline. "The truth."
"Can anyone ever truly possess the truth?" She muttered, a bout of unexpected hopelessness creeping into her words.
…
"It's so much bigger than I remember," Annabeth noted faintly, more to herself than Percy.
"Do you recognize anything?" He asked, keeping his eyes peeled for any suspicious-looking figures or threatening shadows.
"I'm not sure," Annabeth frowned, racking her memory as they came to a crossroads. It had been so long. "I think—I think this way," she supplied weakly, finding something familiar in the crackled blue paint of a tavern at the end of the street.
Percy nodded mutely, gesturing for her to go ahead of him.
"Has it always looked like this?" Annabeth questioned, as she rode down the street, her gaze falling shakily over each tattered home and dilapidated shop.
"Big?" Percy chuckled softly.
"No," Annabeth bit her worried bottom lip. "Like—like there's been some kind of disaster."
When he didn't answer, she turned to look at him. He was watching her, confusion swirling in his green eyes. His lips were parted, caught in a moment of wonder.
"Ever since I can remember," he said finally, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Ever since the war."
Annabeth's heart pulsated, sending an electrifying jolt of fear through her limbs as the world rippled around her. She struggled to stay on her horse, her body melting into nothingness. She blinked, her eyes shuttering as despair pounded against the back of her eye-sockets.
She'd never heard of a war.
She wrenched her eyes open, easing her mouth open to ask something—anything, but forced herself to catch her breath first.
She didn't know what to ask. How could she tell him that she'd studied their kingdom's history for centuries back, and she'd never heard of any war that passed through their kingdom? How could she admit that she was beginning to fear everything she'd learned was a lie?
Before she had a chance though, she was interrupted by a loud crash to their right. She turned to see a drunk man stumbling over himself as he left a brothel. She couldn't pinpoint why, but the vision was somewhat sobering, allowing her to gain control of her emotions.
"Let's go," Percy directed, motioning for her to continue.
She didn't need to be told twice, proceeding down the street. They'd been exploring the city for nearly an hour, following faint spurs of nostalgia that seemed to wash over her without rhyme or reason. She hopelessly tried to remember the shop's name; Nicolas' Home of Scripture? Nicolas' Transcripts and Tolls?
"This is pointless," Annabeth voiced. "We're no closer to finding it than we were when we started."
"Don't put so much pressure on yourself," Percy told her, stopping his horse. "It's been years."
"I know but…" Annabeth trailed off, unsure what she meant to say. Even after years away, she'd never thought she wouldn't be able to navigate her family's kingdom, that she might not recognize one of the few places that had brought her peace in her younger years.
"Let's take a break," Percy advised. "There's a tavern right up there." He dismounted his horse and motioned for her to do the same.
"I don't want a drink," Annabeth muttered bitterly. "I want to find the bookshop."
"Have you considered that the people in the tavern might know a thing or two?" Percy replied sharply, clearly growing annoyed with her ever-present scowl.
"Fine," Annabeth conceded, taking his hand and sliding off her steed. "But where will the horses go?"
"I'll tie them up outside," he told her plainly, as if it were obvious. She thought it probably was obvious, she had simply never considered it before.
"Okay," she agreed, allowing him to take the reins from her. As she waited for him to finish, she looked around the narrow street they'd turned onto.
She hadn't been lying, it was oddly familiar. The tavern was painted in a robin blue that pricked at the back of her head, sparking some memory deep in the recesses of her mind.
She blinked at it several times, trying to remember the steps. She paced to the right just slightly, around the corner, a few more steps, another turn and then—
It was there—the bookshop—tattered and dismantled, but it was there nonetheless. Annabeth grinned with triumph, then frowned, questions swarming. Why did it look so worn?
She approached it slowly, anxiety pinching her nerves. She felt her breath quicken as she peeked through the dusty windows. The interior was empty, stripped bare. Her heart dropped when she thought she saw a dark figure lurking in the shadows only to realize a second later it was a dress form that had been left behind.
"What are you doing?" Percy said behind her, making her jump.
She whipped around, her chest heaving painfully at the fright.
"You shouldn't do that," she muttered, turning back towards the store. "This is it—this is the bookstore."
"This is the bookstore?" Percy frowned, perplexed. "I thought it would be more…"
"Existent?" Annabeth finished for him.
"I was going to say lavish," he commented. "But I guess that works too." He leaned forward, peering through the glass as she had. "What happened to it?"
"I don't know," Annabeth sounded blankly, her blank glued to the storefront as the implication of their discovery wreaked havoc in her chest. She'd been addressing her letters to his shop for nearly a decade. If they hadn't reached him, then who had they reached? The thought made her shudder.
"You're cold," Percy observed, though his thoughtful eye indicated he knew better. "Let's head inside."
"Okay," she agreed faintly, thinking maybe she was wrong. Maybe her letters had still reached Nicolas. Maybe he'd just moved locations. It was possible, wasn't it?
Wasn't it?
She felt Percy's hand on her back and welcomed the warmth, allowing him to steer her towards the tavern.
…
"Do you want anything?" Percy questioned as she took a seat, wrapping her cloak around herself.
"Water?" she requested hopefully.
"Sure," Percy nodded, walking up to the bar.
Annabeth leaned back against the uncomfortable chair, her posture stiff as she observed the room around her. The tavern wasn't bustling but it wasn't empty either. There were a variety of different people scattered around room, talking amicably. Their clothing looked worn and their eyes were marred by dark shadows.
Annabeth sighed in relief when Percy returned, sliding her a glass of beer.
"It was all they had," he explained. "Not smart to drink water in these types of places."
I didn't know, Annabeth wanted to say, but there was already so much she didn't know, no need to point out the obvious. So she nodded silently, wrapping her fingers around the wooden stein. She took a tentative sip, her mind unequivocally blank as the beverage fizzed across her tongue.
"Are you alright?" Percy asked for the second time that night.
"I don't know," Annabeth exhaled softly, the sound drowned out by the heavy conversation that rang throughout the tavern.
"Hello," a young waitress appeared at Percy's side. "Welcome to Victoria's." Her eyes lingered uneasily on the golden crest holding Annabeth's cloak together before sliding to Percy.
"Have you worked here long?" Annabeth asked suddenly.
"Oh," the young woman smiled hesitantly. "Almost a year, why?"
"There's a bookstore around the corner," Annabeth explained, schooling her features to look somewhat nonchalant in her line of questioning. "How long has it been closed?"
"Bookstore?" The woman repeated, her brow quirking with faint confusion.
"It's gray," Annabeth described. "With a red door and two great windows in front."
"Oh," she smiled, comprehension lighting up her expression. "The store around there?" She gestured in the direction they'd come from.
Annabeth nodded.
"That's not a bookstore," she informed kindly, unaware of the pounding of Annabeth's pulse. "It's a tailor—they closed several months ago. It was no surprise; they made horrid clothes."
"There's never been a bookstore there?" Percy clarified, frowning.
"I think a man used to live there before, but he died a long time ago," the girl shrugged, unsure what else to say.
"Thank you," Percy nodded, silently dismissing her.
His fingers slid over the seams of the wooden table, tracing the curves around his own drink.
"Is it possible you mistook the storefront for another?" He asked finally.
"Maybe," Annabeth murmured, but she didn't believe her words. A hollow chasm growing in her chest, threatening to swallow her whole.
He bobbed his head, staring down at the amber beverage in front of him.
"We should go," Annabeth announced suddenly, standing abruptly.
"Uh," he rose to his feet, watching her frantic movements. "Okay but—"
It didn't matter, she wasn't listening. She wasn't listening as she rushed out of the tavern. She wasn't listening as she hastily untied her horse and mounted it. She wasn't listening as she spurred into action, the clatter of hooves drowning out her thoughts. She wasn't listening as the wind whistled through her hair, the night flying past her in a shroud of darkness.
It wasn't until the city was just a bundle of twinkling lights that she could imagine was the same town she'd visited a decade ago—the quaint, happy place—that she slowed to a stop.
She took a deep breath, allowing the night to envelop her. This was all too confusing, all too much. Her world felt like it was shattering, falling apart piece by piece. The more she learned, the more she lost.
She heard a faint gallop in the distance behind her and knew Percy had followed her. She'd expected nothing less. He appeared to be an experienced rider. She had just hoped her quick departure had delayed him longer.
She jumped off her horse, running a hand affectionately over its dark mane. At least she knew her horse could be trusted, she thought in a twisted moment of humor.
"Annabeth," Percy huffed angrily, gallops coming to an abrupt stop behind her. "What do you think you're doing?"
She turned slowly, noting he was panting when he slid off his steed. The realization granted her an ounce of satisfaction before she was thrust back into the throes of her own mind.
"I shouldn't have come here," Annabeth declared, shaking her head and backing it away from him.
"What do you mean?" He frowned, tying their horses to a nearby tree branch before following her into the woods.
"I shouldn't have come," Annabeth repeated, her resolve weak.
She felt her back brush against a tree, feeling the abrasive bark even through the thick fabric of her cloak. Percy drove forward, shoving away offending twigs and leaves until he was standing before her, light perfectly by the moonlight.
"My mother always told me my curiosity would be the death of me," Annabeth chuckled darkly, feeling tears prick at the corner of her eyes. Since when did she cry so much? And in front of others no less. "I'm beginning to think she might be right."
"Because you mistook a clothing store for a bookstore?" Percy prompted.
"No, Percy," Annabeth bit out savagely, feeling such an incredible surge of anger swell in her lungs she couldn't contain herself; anger at her parents for lying to her, anger at Luke for protecting her from reality, anger at Rachel for her utter ignorance to it all, angry at Percy for setting her life ablaze. "I'm upset because I didn't mistake it. The door—it has a knot hidden in the wood, beneath the paint—that red door was the same."
Percy's eyes widened marginally, awe dancing across his irises as he attempted to absorb the information.
"It's the same bookstore," Annabeth exhaled shakily, her lips a lifeless line. "The same bookstore, but it's closed. So who's been sending me books upon request?"
"You've been receiving books from there?" Percy questioned.
"Yeah," Annabeth remarked with a sputter of dying laughter, throwing her hands up. "Is any surprise that all I found on your family was a series of meaningless economic quandaries? Or that everything around me seems to contradict what my tutors taught me?"
"Annabeth, even if it was the store," Percy tried to argue, his eyes trained on the rocky terrain beneath them. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't have come. You had to know the truth—you wanted to know the truth—"
Annabeth blinked, considered his words, felt fire rise up in her, and didn't have the willpower to squash it.
"No," she declared, taking a step towards him, an accusatory lilt to her words. "You're right. I'm not the problem. It's you—you shouldn't have come. You shouldn't have come to this kingdom, you should have come to this castle, you should have come here with me—"
"You asked me to," Percy exclaimed in disbelief, matching her steps until they were just a breath apart.
"I did but—" Annabeth cut herself off, sucking in a gasp. The air surrounding them was cold, so why didn't she feel it? Why could she only feel the heat of his body bleeding into hers? "But you shouldn't have agreed—"
He laughed incredulously, his chest rising to brush hers. She felt her heart shiver and tried to remember she was angry.
"You shouldn't have helped me—"
He shifted, her breath caught, falling back a step and nearly tripping, barely stumbling on her feet. His hand grasped her waist, steadying her.
"You shouldn't have… " she swallowed thickly, a familiar ardor turning to liquid fire in her veins.
She exhaled, the soft cloud extending across the shrinking distance between them.
His eyes fell, lingering longingly on her mouth before rising to meet her gaze again.
"I shouldn't have what?" he asked, his voice quiet, nearly lost in the wind.
She knew she should answer, tell him this—this was what he shouldn't do, but for a perfect moment she couldn't think of a single good reason why. After all, what was another forgotten kiss in a rapidly crumbling world?
She lifted her chin up, scarcely catching a whisper of his lips across hers. His hand at her waist tightened, the other rising to fit just under her jaw. His lips slanted against hers as her eyes fluttered shut, an inferno sparkling inside her, threatening to consume her.
She didn't think she minded though, so she wrapped her arms around his neck, tugging him closer. He exhaled sharply—the sound was almost a laugh—and fell towards her. He was an oasis of light in the darkness, a spark in the cold dark that seemed to wrap more tightly around her with each passing second.
His leg slipped between hers, his knee grazing the insides of her thigh. Even though their combined clothing, she could feel his touch scorch her. She inhaled faintly, the sound crackling in her throat. Her eyes fluttered open, just barely, and then—flashes of ruby red and steel burned across the backdrop of her eyelids. The clash of sword and flesh, blood and gold. Doubt spilled past her lips without her consent.
"Why didn't I know about the war?" she asked against his mouth. Her lips brushed his with every syllable but the question deepened the chasm between them.
"What?" Percy stilled, drawing just centimeters away to gaze down at her.
"You mentioned a war," Annabeth explained slowly. "I thought our last war had been over a century ago." She stared up at him as the haze cleared from his eyes, revealing a flicker of regret before turning guarded.
"No," he shook his head, his hand falling from her jaw to rest by his side. "I shouldn't—"
"Say," Annabeth finished for him, stepping back. His hand dropped from her waist, joining the other. "I figured."
He looked like he wanted to argue, but she was too quick.
"Did you know I used to spend summer nights sitting outside? Reading about the history of our kingdom, thinking my life was some great fairytale, thinking I could trust those around me. Imagine that. Thinking things could be so simple," she scoffed, a terrible emptiness taking root in her heart. "How positively naive of me."
"Perhaps they failed to mention it in your teachings," Percy offered, taking another step towards her. "Your tutors were—"
"Don't placate me," Annabeth snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. The chill was glacial without his touch. "I know the history of our kingdom beginning to end. It was deliberately hidden from me—why?"
"I—" he began, conflict storming his features.
"Why can't you tell me?" Annabeth demanded, forcing herself to surge forward, towards him, towards the truth.
"You keep your family's secrets," Percy reasoned, his voice rising. "And I must keep mine as well."
"Fine," she snapped loudly, sharp as steel. "Why did you kiss me?"
Percy froze, blinked, swallowed.
"What?" He questioned weakly, his fingers twitching.
She thought he might want to touch her. She thought she might want him to.
"Why did you kiss me?" Annabeth echoed, her voice quieter. "That isn't a family secret. It only involves you—you and me."
His lips parted, but she could feel it. She could feel something terrible and ominous on the tip of his tongue, could feel it in the air, in the way his eye gleamed, in the way her spirit broke.
"Why did you kiss me?" She asked for the third time, for the final time.
"I—I don't know," Percy told her.
She nodded stiffly. She tasted blood but had no idea where it had come from.
She didn't know why she'd kissed him either—except she did, didn't she?
No, she didn't. She didn't know so she didn't have a right to be upset.
She was numb. She didn't hurt. She didn't feel like her heart was shrinking or like her lungs were caving in. She didn't feel her chest was sinking or like her throat was closing in on itself—she didn't.
"I want to go back," Annabeth told him, trying to push past him to get to their horses but he stepped in her way.
"Annabeth—" he sighed.
"What, Percy?" She sneered. "Or should I say, Duke—"
"Don't—"
"Don't what?" She returned. "Don't call you by your title?—Or oh, should I say king?"
"Annabeth—"
"Don't call me that," she shouted, her hands curling into tight fists. "Don't call me Annabeth like you're a friend—like we trust each other."
Percy went quiet at that.
"Tell me I'm wrong," Annabeth whispered, a cruel curve creeping onto her lips. "Tell me I can trust you."
He didn't say anything, his eyes pleading.
"You can't," she noted. She'd already known it but it still hurt to hear. "Because you know I shouldn't. And you shouldn't trust me either."
"I shouldn't?" Percy questioned sadly, resignation wound tightly in his shoulders.
"No," Annabeth shook her head wistfully. "We should get back."
…
It was nearly morning by the time they got back. The morning light was peaking past the horizon, pouring a lovely rosy hue over the trees. She thought it looked like blood, then wondered when she'd begun to find blood beautiful.
The rode silently until they reached the stables where they dismounted and tied the horses back up. They were lucky the servants weren't awake yet.
The air felt different as they approached the castle doors, humid and charged, like a storm was brewing. She glanced up at the sky, finding it clear. A loud cracking to their left caught her attention. She and Percy shared a hidden glimpse as they noticed a pair of frantic guards searching the grounds.
Annabeth briefly worried they'd been discovered. What would she say if her guards reported her out of bed? What would she tell Rachel? Luke? Her parents? Would she tell them she knew the truth now? Or would she bow her head and apologize as she always had?
Annabeth turned to Percy as the reached the castle doors. "Thank you," she said with a quick nod. "For agreeing to come with me."
"Of course," he grimaced, and the words made her wince.
Annabeth approached a guard at the door, drawing back her hood so he could see her face. The guard's eyes darted between Percy and her in obvious confusion, making Annabeth frown. She was about to say something when the doors open and they stepped through the threshold of the castle, unknowing of the chaos that would erupt.
Inside the castle, everyone was running, rushing in and out of the corridors without order. A guard, Jamison, approached her. He said something, but she couldn't hear him—or perhaps she simply didn't want to.
It was important, it was crucial, it was grave—she could tell by the way Percy's features crumbled and the way his eyes immediately darted to hers.
Her limbs weren't working, her ears weren't working, her mind wasn't working.
"Annabeth," Percy was saying to her. "Annabeth."
She blinked up at him, trying to focus on him and only him, trying to drown out the chaos with already fuzzy eyes. She was on the floor, on her knees. She didn't remember falling.
"What?" She murmured, swimming through molasses, slow and dazed.
"Did you hear him?" Percy demanded, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her.
It wasn't delicate. It was frantic and feverish. His hands felt hot against her skin. She was burning, smoldering to crisp and floating away like ash.
"Annabeth," Percy breathed, a tenderness she knew was utterly undeserved simmering in his voice when he addresses her for a third time—for the final time. "Did you hear him? Rachel is missing. We have to go—"
And then the guilt consumed her, plunging her into darkness.
a/n: okay, I know yall are waiting for entropy but I'm honestly having horrible writer's block w entropy right now so I'm posting this in the meantime.
anyway, things are finally picking.
didn't edit (ofc)
dedicated to Call me Indecisive and just some random reader here
c u l8r, ciao!
p.s. peanutbutter, if you want to quote me, I would beyond honored, lol. go for it.
