A/N: Hello all! Me again. Happy Monday(*cough* said no one ever)

Thanks for the reviews, makes me smile every time I read one! Hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Chapter 33

Imposter

Robin's hands flashed over the gun, reassembling the pieces and clicking them back together. Slade's gray eye hovered over every movement, stopping and correcting when necessary. The man saw everything – every mistake, every wrong action, and every misplaced piece.

Was it possible to fit an entire lifetime of training into a day?

A week – maybe .

But a few days – no.

Even for somebody of Robin's caliber, it just wasn't possible.

But the boy was a quick learner, and he had processed and adjusted to every critique Slade had given with ease. Robin was easy to teach if he were simply willing to learn, and so long as Slade stuck to the basics and didn't mention any hint about killing, the boy learned quickly.

It had taken awhile to finally coax the boy into shooting, but his curiosity was strong enough to overwhelm the final dredges of reluctance. He had Robin shoot a couple rounds, and had watched with mild satisfaction as the boy steadily improved. Slade's goal wasn't to make the boy into an expert with the weapon, but just to give him a basic understand of how it worked, how to shoot, and more importantly how to fight an opponent who might be wielding the gun.

The boy's blue eyes blazed as he clicked the last piece of the gun together.

Slade picked up the weapon, inspecting each and every component, making sure the boy had assembled it correctly. He lifted it, taking aim at a target twenty yards away and fired off a few shots.

"Good work," the man eventually grunted as he placed the weapon back on the table.

Robin took a few steps back, setting some distance between himself and the small handgun.

"Thanks," the boy muttered as his eyes flickered over to the target.

The man frowned. Robin was still a bit uncomfortable, but that could be worked out over the next few days – if they even had that much time. If the Joker decided to rear his ugly head in Jump, this would probably be the most training Robin ever received.

"What's wrong?" Slade asked, homing in on the boy's sudden shift to discomfort.

Robin shrugged, looking away. His voice sounded distant.

"Still feels kind of wrong I guess."

Slade felt the tendrils of guilt wrapping around the boy. He couldn't blame Robin for feeling how he did. It had been a rough day from start to finish. Slade was slowly unraveling the brainwashing that Batman had held him under for the majority of his life, and the man couldn't expect to do it all in a single day. It was going to take time to break the boy completely free of the Caped Crusader's ridiculous rules.

"Get some sleep, we'll start again in the morning," Slade said as he picked up the gun and placed it back in the case. He moved quickly, hoping the boy's exhaustion would cause little if any debate.

"I thought you said we were going to scout out Jump tonight."

So much for that.

"It's been a long day, Robin. You need sleep."

One of the boy's infamous, petulant scoffs reached Slade's ears.

"I'm fine."

Slade shook his head. "I don't want you working yourself into the ground," the man responded as he turned only to find the boy right behind him. Those searing, blue eyes gazed up at him.

"You're going to Gotham, aren't you?" the boy asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Slade sighed as he leaned against the case. "I might be."

"Slade," Robin groaned as he spun around, throwing his arms in the air. The man watched with mild amusement as the boy marched away, only to turn back around with an all too familiar spark of defiance in his eyes. "You are not leaving me out of this."

"You need sleep."

"Oh, come on, not all this crap again. I'm fine."

Slade frowned. Energy practically radiated from the boy's small frame despite the stress from the past twenty-four hours. He knew the boy had a propensity to overwork himself, and it was a habit Slade needed to monitor carefully. In fact, he was pretty sure an eighteen hour day was normal for the boy. It was still early in the evening, Robin could greatly benefit from the extra sleep.

There was another factor that bothered the man. Slade was out for information, and dragging the Boy Wonder along would shut the mouths of many – if not all – of the criminals in Gotham. Besides the man had a reputation to uphold, and a green, yellow and red stoplight didn't quite blend well with his murderous persona.

The man opened his mouth and immediately watched as a spike of frustration erupted from the boy.

"Don't do the same thing Batman did to me, Slade," Robin growled.

Slade hesitated as he felt the air around the boy descend into fragile shards of anger. He was treading on thin ice now that the boy had dragged the Bats into the situation. One false move and Robin would burst, breaking his frustration into thousands of little daggers aimed directly at Slade.

An idea began to form in the man's mind.

"I'm not benching you, Robin," Slade began slowly. He watched as the anger edged a bit from the boy's aggressive stance.

"Then what – "

"I wanted to do more than scout tonight. We need information, and I know people who can give us that information," Slade continued as he knocked on the glass against his back.

The boy's gaze carved it's way through him.

"You're going to investigate the undercurrent, aren't you?"

Slade sighed at the boy's astute ability to perceive his intentions. There was no point in lying to Robin anymore. When he didn't respond, Robin's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Slade – "

The man held up his hand, forestalling the torrent of anger from the boy.

"Call it a hunch, but I have a feeling these people won't want to talk in front of the person who put them behind bars."

It would be suicide to drag Robin through the undercurrent of Gotham. Even though the boy had never been exposed to most of the criminals there, Batman had done more than enough damage for a few to want to extract revenge on the Caped Crusader's sidekick. He watched as this understanding dawned in the boy's bright eyes. Robin's face settled into a scowl as he began sifting through the situations in his mind.

"But…"

The boy frowned as a breath licked his lips. "Yeah, I can see your point."

Slade smirked. "Good. Go to sleep, and I'll let you know what I find out in the morning."

The man turned, satisfied with the solution. Perhaps he could catch up on a few of his contracts while he was out tonight. He had left a lot of his work untouched since the whole Batman fiasco had happened. His foot hit the mat as he began to pace across the large space. He had a feeling however, Robin would find a way to tag along. Slade saw a perfectly reasonable option, but the key was to let the boy come to the conclusion by himself. If Slade suggested it, Robin would balk at the very notion.

"Slade!"

Rapid footsteps clamored over the floor as the boy appeared beside him. The man held back a smile as he looked down.

"What if I go in some sort of disguise?" Robin asked, "No one would know."

The man raised an eyebrow. "And pray tell, what sort of disguise would that be?"

Robin squirmed, digging through his mind and rummaging through all of his ideas. "You have a lot of associates," the boy began, "I could just be a – uhhh – a business partner or something."

"A business partner?" Slade drawled. The boy lit up at the question, appearing to miss the sarcasm drenched in the words.

"Yeah," Robin continued, growing more confident in the idea. "You know, I um…work with you on things."

"Things?"

"Yeah, um… you know villain things," the boy finished, trying to hold together the shambles of the idea. "Uh, guns maybe. You know like an arms dealer. There are plenty of those right?"

The man snorted as he gazed at the short acrobat. Nothing about the figure in front of him screamed a rough, gruff, and ruthless arms dealer. Did the boy honestly want to masquerade as an arms dealer when the mere sight of a low-powered handgun still caused him to squirm?

"Shall I get you a suit and tie and mock up a few business cards for you then?"

Robin frowned, suddenly realizing Slade never had any faith in the idea.

"Slade – "

"There are too many holes with the idea, Robin. Sure, you could parade around as an arms dealer, but anyone would see through it in a minute," Slade replied.

"But – "

"First of all, you know little if anything about guns, besides the minuscule amount I taught you today."

Slade watched as his words had a deflating effect on the boy. While Robin may be brash and definite, the boy accepted logic. He practically shrunk under the words.

"Second, I can't just conjure up a new dealer out of the air. People are going to be suspicious of you immediately, and when people are suspicious, their lips seal up," the man continued.

The boy muttered something, but Slade chose to ignore what sounded like a few, particularly choice words.

"And lastly, I work alone. Dragging along a five-foot teenager as a supposed 'business partner' would raise a few eyebrows," Slade finished, satisfied that his words sucked any last bit of air out of Robin's grand idea. He turned, starting off again.

There was a way. Slade saw it quite clearly, but for it to work, Robin would have to come to the conclusion by himself.

"Five-foot and two inches, actually."

Slade paused at the muttered words, turning just so his eye caught the edge of Robin's form.

"Bit of a stretch don't you think?"

"Slade," Robin growled, tossing his arms in the air. He spun around. "Maybe I could pretend to work for you – like a hired assassin?"

"And I just conveniently hired you to follow me around all night?" Slade asked easily thwarting the idea.

"Maybe I'm like a uhhh, a body guard?"

Slade rolled his eyes, leaving the boy gaping for another option.

"Slade, wait!"

There was a dim resignation in the voice that stopped the man. He turned to find the boy grappling with his thoughts.

"I could," the boy gestured around the room as if trying to pull the words from the air.

"You know – "

"I don't think I do."

"I mean it would make sense I guess…"

"I don't read minds, Robin."

A sigh gushed from the boy as Robin suddenly looked up, staring straight into Slade's eye.

"I could pretend," the boy began. Slade resisted a smile at the expounding emphasis the boy placed behind the word. Robin shifted his feet as his eyes dropped to the ground. "To be your protégée or something…."

"Protégée?" Slade asked, feigning confusion.

Robin continued to squirm. His voice dropped to a low mumble.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" the man pressed. Robin had to be the one to suggest the idea. It wouldn't work any other way.

"Like your apprentice…" the boy dwindled off as he rubbed his feet into the plush mat.

Slade hummed thoughtfully as if considering the idea for the first time. He cocked his head to the side, withholding a satisfied smirk that threatened to break free from his lips.

"Could work."

Robin looked up. Slade could see the sudden panic leaking into every inch of the boy's face.

"All pretend of course. Just a disguise," the boy hastily added, rushing the words into a mumbled wreck.

"Of course," Slade said smoothly. Robin's shoulders slackened a bit as the tension drained from his body. The man couldn't help but sigh at the movement. The very notion – even if it was just for a cover – still caused the boy to panic. Slade supposed he hadn't done anything to make the idea appealing. Using friends for blackmail hadn't been a great method to gain trust and loyalty. He had been surprised the boy had found the determination to suggest the idea at all.

"Just for the night," the man said with a shrug. Oddly enough, a cascade of feelings rushed through Slade, but one overwhelmed the rest, rising and squashing down the waves.

Guilt.

Slade tried to push away the feeling and ignore its existence, but it lingered along the edges of his mind. Why did it bother him so much? It was the only solution that made sense, and Robin had even acknowledged it wasn't real.

Perhaps it was the fact that when he looked at the boy in front of him, Slade couldn't help but feel responsible for the entire mess. The last thing he wanted to do was drag Robin deeper into the lion's den, forcing the boy to charade around as the persona he had fought so valiantly against.

"We have to figure out your outfit though. Maybe something to give you some more bulk," the man mused as he ran his eye down the length of the small form, "And we'll have to do something to your hair."

Robin ran his hand through his raven locks with a frown. Slade opened his mouth to continue, but was cut off by another voice.

"Well, of course."

The pair turned to find a short, withered man, standing at the bottom of the stairs, with a light smirk plastered across his lips. At the surprised gazes, Wintergreen's smile only grew larger.

"Leave that to me."

"This washes out, right?"

"Well, I'm not terribly sure about that."

"Wintergreen!"

"Oh yes it does. Calm down, I'm joking."

The pair stared in the mirror.

"I must say, it is rather suiting for your complexion.

Robin growled, running is hand through his hair. The Titans would have one long laugh if they ever saw him like this.

"Was this really necessary?" the boy asked for perhaps the millionth time that evening.

"Quite."

The boy turned as Slade appeared in the doorway of the room. The man's shadow dwarfed the small space as he stepped forward, carrying a large bundle in his hands. Robin's eyes ran up and down the length of the man and felt familiar echoes of fear prickle through him at the sight of the black and orange armor. Even without the mask, the mere sight of the suit was disconcerting.

Robin scrunched his nose together and turned back to the mirror just as Wintergreen finished spraying the last piece of his hair.

"You missed a spot," the boy mumbled as he tugged at the dark strip of hair.

"No, I didn't. Adds to the aesthetic," Wintergreen mused.

Robin gazed back at the crisp, silvery hair with the thin, black streak running just at the front of his hairline. The boy moved his fingers through his locks, feeling the chalky substance slide onto his hands. The color seemed to set fire to his already blazing, blue eyes. Robin cocked his head.

He felt different.

Slade gestured for him to stand up, and the boy rose to his feet. He was already dressed in the uniform he had used for the previous venture against the Joker.

"Lift your arms," Slade said. Robin did as the man said, and watched as Slade clamped on a large shoulder piece to both arms. The man then connected a forearm guard that added another few inches of bulk to his armor.

"It's kinda heavy," Robin muttered as he flexed against the new, constricting additions. Slade handed him the pieces that enclosed his thighs, and the boy connected them to his suit, following the man's actions.

"You'll get used to it," Slade said as he adjusted the pieces to connect seamlessly to the body armor. "Besides you shouldn't actually need to fight anyone tonight."

Robin shifted under the man's hands as his eyes flickered to the mirror. The armor certainly did make him seem bigger however uncomfortable it might be.

"Here." The man dropped a pair of boots at Robin's feet. The boy looked up incredulously.

"I am not wearing those."

"They'll add a few inches to your height – "

"They're practically heels, Slade!"

Wintergreen chuckled as he leaned back up against the wall, gazing at the increasingly uncomfortable boy.

"More like platforms actually," the older man drawled.

Robin sent him a scathing look as he picked up the combat boots. The bottom of the shoe had a good two inches of extra material, just enough to give the wearer a lift in height. It vaguely reminded Robin of the shoes Starfire wore. If his team saw him now, he'd never hear the end of the mockery.

"Robin, your height is an immediate giveaway. Just put them on," Slade said as he turned back to the last, remaining piece of the getup.

The boy muttered every foul word he could imagine under his breath as he tugged them angrily onto his feet. When he stood up, he found them surprisingly light, almost spring-like. Robin took a few steps, getting accustomed to the new feel.

"They'll add a little more spring to your movements," Slade said, gesturing to the soles of the boots. "You might find you'll have a little more height under your jumps when wearing them."

Perhaps that's why Starfire liked wearing her boots around the Tower even when they weren't training. The boy gazed at his frame in the mirror and frowned at himself.

"I'd say no one would recognize you at this rate," Wintergreen hummed behind him.

Robin couldn't help but agree. The armor, while constricting and on the heavier side, added a few more inches of bulk to his normally thin frame. Plus, the blindingly silver hair and the extra height would be more than enough to conceal his Boy Wonder identity. He shifted, trying not to feel absolutely ridiculous at the moment. Had he really agreed to go parading around a city as the man's apprentice?

Slade held out the last piece of the puzzle.

Yes, he had.

Robin reached out, taking it in his hands.

It was different than the one he had worn when he had been coerced into Slade's apprenticeship, and for that the boy was grateful. The man could have easily forced him into his old uniform, but he hadn't. Slade had altered everything from the old apprentice suit – including the mask.

The mask in his hands was darker, rimmed with an inky black and just a hint of orange on the outside. The shape curved up at the edges, differing from the sharp angles of his traditional domino mask. The eye covers were a dim gray. Robin gazed at it for a few moments, his eyes flickering to the mirror in front of him.

Just for the night.

It doesn't mean anything.

He placed it over his eyes as a rush of adrenaline spread through his system.

A whistle reached his ears.

"Definitely don't look like the Boy Wonder now."

The boy turned and couldn't help but smile.

"No, Destructor is the name now."

A wordless silence spread through the room, and Robin relished in the sudden confidence he gained.

Wintergreen suddenly heaved over as laughter exploded from his lips. He wheezed, holding himself up with the wall as tears trickled down his face. "Destructor?" the man hissed as he wiped his eyes. "That's a new one."

Heat rushed to the boy's face as he threw his eyes over to Slade, hoping to find someone agreeing to his new name. The man simply raised his eyebrows which Robin had begun to equate to the man's own vague expression of amusement.

"That's the best you could do?"

Robin sighed, suddenly feeling cumbersome from the added weight in the new armor.

"Thought it sounded cool," the boy muttered. Truth be told, Robin had often pondered what his name would have been if he had been a villain, and Destructor always had a nice, powerful ring to it.

Wintergreen settled in his laughter and finally found his voice. "Sorry, you just don't quite strike me as the destructive type."

Robin frowned as he glanced back in the mirror. He supposed he probably didn't look that intimidating to deserve such a beefy, hulking name, but either way he still felt drawn to it.

"What about Quicksilver? It would match your hair," Wintergreen mused.

The boy rolled his eyes, muttering to himself. "Doesn't sound very villainous…"

"Hmmm right," Wintergreen hummed, snapping his fingers, "What about Slate? Kinda pairs nicely with Slade, doesn't it?"

"No."

Robin turned as Slade voiced his immediate disagreement.

"Oh, come on. Slate and Slade is a little catchy," the boy mused with a light grin. Slade threw him a scathing look.

"I don't think you want a name after a piece of rock, Robin."

"What about Shade then? Still pairs together nicely."

"Will, if you don't stop I'm going to – " Slade snapped, but before he could finish his threat, the older man had already moved on.

"How about Rebel?" Wintergreen continued, waving his hand through the air, "Has a nice dangerous ring to it."

"I guess," Robin said as he glumly stared back at his reflection in the mirror.

"Phantom? You look a little like a ghost with that hair."

"Too silly," the boy replied with a shake of his head.

"What about Renegade?"

Robin glanced over to Slade at the suggestion. The man leaned against the tall mirror as the word floated through the air. The boy stared at his reflection as the word drummed through his head. He frowned.

"That's just dumb, Slade."

"I quite agree," Wintergreen hummed behind him.

Slade threw his arms in the air as he spun around, snatching his own mask off the table and marching out of the room.

"Well when you two are done wasting time, let me know."

Robin watched the man from the reflection in the mirror as Slade hung in the doorway. Black and orange snaked over the man's face, sealing away any trace of humanity from the visage. Slade's words snaked their way through the dim room.

"We have work to do."

To say Robin was nervous was an understatement.

He hadn't been in Gotham since he had left Batman's side all those painful years ago. To be back under the guise of a different persona to the place where his life had ended and began, felt wrong.

His conversation with Slade from earlier rang in his ears.

"A fair warning, Robin."

The boy turned with a frown. They were on the haunt of the roof, and Slade's voice had stilled his movements. The man walked up to him, blurring against the darkness of the sky.

"This may not be real, but I expect you to play the part."

Robin looked up at the black and orange mask with a frown.

"Yeah, sure. I know."

Slade shook his head as he gripped Robin's shoulder.

"No, I don't think you do."

His words hit the rooftop and rolled off, disappearing into the inky night.

"I need your full obedience. Any less, and people will get suspicious."

Robin's frown deepened. "I am aware."

The man's hand dropped from his shoulder as he moved forward, standing at the edge of the building.

"I won't ask you to do anything you won't do, but if you so much as impede on my actions – "

The man hesitated, and Robin watched as his outline practically shimmered against the dingy skyline.

"I know we differ on a few things," the man continued, his voice dropping into a silkily smooth tone. The black and orange mask turned to face the boy.

"So, you'll just have to trust me."

Years had passed but the skyline of Gotham was very much the same. Smoke billowed from the tops of buildings, and Robin could feel the grime crawling into his lungs. They had taken separate vehicles here for which the boy had breathed a sigh of relief. He had hated the awkward car rides with Batman when they had gone out on missions. The Caped Crusader wasn't much of a conversationalist, and Robin wasn't keen to find out if Slade was any better during the two-hour trek.

Instead, the man had presented him with a vehicle similar to the design of his R-Cycle. It had a lighter, sleeker build than Robin had been used to but it didn't take long for the boy to adjust accordingly. When he had asked Slade why he had such a vehicle, the man had simply shrugged.

Why not?

Why not, indeed.

The boy couldn't shake the feeling that Slade had built the bike for him in preparation for the whole apprentice fiasco. The handles burned under his hands as he hopped off the bike. He briefly wondered when the man had planned to present him with the bike. Perhaps after a few years, when he felt he finally had Robin fully under his beck and whim, Slade would have shown it to him.

The smooth metal slid under his hand. The bike had handled better than anything he had ever ridden and pushed speeds Robin hadn't dared to attempt before. He had made it here in a little over an hour – a feat Batman would have had his hide for years ago. Speeding was another topic the dynamic duo had always disagreed on. Where Robin thought it necessary, Batman thought it reckless. Slade had simply shrugged at the question.

I trust you can handle yourself.

He paused. Gotham nights had a distinct feeling to them. They were different then the serene peace of Jump that waited to be disturbed by crime. In Gotham, every night felt disturbing. Evil perpetually lingered in the air with the smoke and smog, a thick blanket that could smother you at whim.

The boy caught a reflection of himself in the polished metal of the bike and froze. The thick armor hung against his arms. The platforms on his boots seared his feet. The dye in his hair felt like dirt against his hands.

He felt like an imposter in his own city.

The boy stood under the night sky, feeling the wisps of his past drift around him. He felt Batman's shadow drawing around him, threating to overtake him as it always had. But this time it was different. The boy in the reflection was not one he recognized.

He was under a different shadow now.

Would it have been that bad?

The thought found him, drifting between himself. If he had never found a way out of the apprenticeship, would it have been that terrible? Would Slade have changed like the man had now? Would they have found a common ground to stand on, or would Robin have been suffering under the wrath of the specter for the rest of his life? Would Slade have bent him into a criminal, a murderer, an assassin? Would the Titans have drifted into the abyss of his memories? Would he have lost himself?

Silence was the only answer the boy had to these questions.

He shook himself, walking away from the bike he cursorily hid from view. Slade had mapped out where they were supposed to meet, and Robin headed to the location now, eager to arrive before Slade.

He ghosted along the few blocks with ease and scaled the building, hoisting himself quietly into the air. The modifications to his armor had taken a bit getting used to, but the boy found he could still maintain his usual degrees of flexibility and speed. Perhaps Batman had been right when he had pestered Robin on accepting a thicker plated material for added protection on his uniform.

The boy clamored up the building and flipped onto the roof. He smiled as he glanced around, satisfied he had gained a slight edge over Slade. The man was nowhere to be seen –

"Took you long enough. I was afraid you had gotten lost."

The boy swore and whirled around as the familiar black and orange figure emerged from the darkness.

"How did you – "

The man shrugged.

"Practice," Slade drawled allowing the word to roll off into the inky depths of Gotham.

Robin could sense Slade's satisfied smirk glaring under the mask, so he turned back to the skyline with a huff. His fragile hope of victory against the man faded away into the darkness.

"Always have to win at everything," the boy mumbled.

"If it makes you feel better," the man replied, stepping beside Robin's form, "I only arrived moments before yourself."

"It doesn't," the boy muttered ruefully, allowing a prickle of annoyance to drip into his tone. He couldn't beat the man in his own city nor could he beat the man in the city he grew up in.

Slade always won.

A hand fell on his shoulder, gently nudging him out of his tainted thoughts.

"You made good time actually. I'm impressed."

A deflated breath echoed from Robin's lips, pushing away the dregs of his irritation. He looked up. As he stared at Slade's black and orange mask, he was reminded of another figure, another man, and another shadowy silhouette.

"Thanks," Robin whispered.

He was an imposter…

The boy flinched at the uninvited thought, and Slade dropped his hand.

…in his own city…

"So where are we going? Where's the undercurrent?" the boy asked as he cleared his throat.

He sensed Slade turning to him. The black and orange figure seemed oddly at ease amongst the terror of the night around them.

"Look around. We're already here."

Inhaling a deep breath, Robin tried to push aside his past. He tried to push aside the memories of the Caped Crusader standing beside him as they looked out over Gotham. But the haunting figure next to him concreted those memories to the surface of Robin's mind.

So he looked, and for the first time in a long time, the boy saw. Gotham had claws. Robin felt them. They pierced through the layers of his armor and dug into his skin, tearing through the organ like paper.

It was then Robin realized that the undercurrent of Gotham wasn't a physical place as he had thought when he had been a boy.

It was everywhere.

It pulsed under the heart of Gotham, permeating every crack and flaw in the city. Underneath the waves of life and crime, rested the claws of the current, suffocating any shred of good in the city. One just had to know where to swim to find it.

It was this current that Batman had so long raged against. The man had kept him floating above the waves for all his childhood, protecting him against the darkness of the current's pull. A few times, Robin had plunged under, but Batman had been there to pull him up – to protect him from the true horrors of Gotham.

"You'll be fine, Robin. I'll make sure of it."

The low rumble of the words caught him, wrapped around him, and sunk into his turbulent thoughts. The boy inhaled, washing out his fears with a dim exhale as an odd sense of calm eased its way through him. There was a different man beside him now, and Robin wasn't the timid kid he had been all those years ago.

He needed to get moving. Movement prevented the claws from digging in too deeply. Stillness allowed the city to continue to burrow into him.

The boy glanced up at the night sky. Smoke drifted into the air.

It had been far too long Gotham.

Far too long.

A/N: thought this chapter was a nice break from all the normal angst and drama (although there is plenty more to come)

*gasp* Robin with silvery, white hair? a look? a terrible crime? too crazy? Let me know whatcha think!

Have a great week! Until next time, thanks for reading!