Rocket to the Moon
Chapter Eleven
I Need a Book
. . .
AN. I feel the need to warn you that this will be a story that will take its time to develop the romantic affair. Or perhaps I should tell that more than a love story this is the story of a well-intended man in his thirties who is going through a transformation. He's making changes, some of them at such internal level that he's not aware; some other he perceives, but all of them would end changing him for good. He's a man who has been following what he thought was his planned path in life but in reality he was just numbly letting himself go with the flow. Now he's facing a crossroad. He's going to be confronted with a new way to see life; a new way to live it.
The lector might not agree with what is presented here; it's not the author vision either, not completely. It just happens to be the story that I want to tell. I'd love to have you all along the road and enjoy it. This is only a fic made up as an exercise of imagination and posted with no other intention than entertain.
. . .
He knocked the door three times. 'Meeting Room' read the white letters labeled in the wood. Arnold drew in as he waited.
"What?" a guy with a big nose opened it slightly; Arnold thought he hadn't seen him before. The bloke looked at him up and down, somewhat unfriendly.
"Shortman…" Arnold introduced himself. Seeing the confusion in the man's sight he added "I come from Legal." The guy nodded then and took a step back.
"So you're taking Ralph's place?" Arnold nodded. The door opened widely "Marty Fisher," the guy introduced himself, speaking in low voice "What was the name again?"
"Shortman… Arnold Shortman" after nodding again he beckoned him in and put a finger on his lips. Arnold entered to the place not knowing what he was going to find inside.
It was an ample room with two windows that bathed the place with sunlight. There were two persons sitting at a meeting table facing the screen perched on the wall. The screen showed a man in his late thirties talking to the couple of guys in here who were most probably interviewing him. Arnold remained behind.
The first guy was someone from Human Resources; Arnold knew him by sight. The second man was Stan Wright, Operations Vicepresident and Dick's right hand man. Dick himself was seated at Stan's right, but he remained slightly behind so he couldn't be seen by the man in the screen. The rest of the men in the room, four more guys, were seated or standing out of sight too. Following Marty's indication Arnold took one of the seats that had been pushed away from the table. Marty mouthed 'Legal' when someone turned to see the newcomer.
Arnold leaned back in the confortable chair watching the interview with interest. The man in the screen had a strong Indian accent and exotic features. Arnold soon realized he was an aspirant for the post of General Manager in the new manufactory. He was listing his experience and answering the questions that both man asked. Arnold also realized Dick was leaning back in his chair while writing in a clipboard; raising his sight every once in a while to pay attention to the interaction.
It was the first time Arnold was this close to the group of men who were in charge of the operation of the entire company. Operations distinctive characteristic was that the Department was what could be vernacularly called a 'sausage fest'. There were practically no women in the section. Probably Dick and Stan's secretaries were the only two women in the entire Department.
Watching closely the men whose attention was fixed on the screen, Arnold started to tell one from another. He saw then that not all of them were tall and burly as they looked from afar, when you saw them as a bunch. In fact, only Stan and another man with dark brown hair were tall and beefy. The rest of them weren't that big. There was one who was shorter than himself even. They were two blonds, a ginger head, a shaved head, and three dark haired men. All of them were in their thirties, early forties maybe. All of them looked so normal and inoffensive right now.
Marty was the one of the dark haired men. To tell the truth Arnold didn't know what was the role performed by every one of them in the group. What Arnold realized though, was that all of them dressed well. Gerald would approve their looks in a blink; mainly the one of Mike Davis, the proclaimed Most Handsome Man in the office. Mike was a tall African American man with an impressive physique and whose flirtatious smile melted most of the girl hearts...
Hmpf! – Arnold cleared his throat realizing he sounded like a girl. Those were Not His Words! That happened to be what he actually heard or saw around. His spot in the office was easily reached by voices of all kind and sources. "Jeez, Football Head!"... He grunted again. Sometimes the inner voice in his head sounded like Helga's.
Like Helga.
. . .
They had had another interesting chat during his visit the day of his 'promotion', once Henry had gone. She congratulated him, of course, and made him recall she'd already told him it was matter of time that it happened.
She didn't lecture him about Dick. 'He's just another guy'. But she did ask him if he felt more comfortable with his job now.
He felt indeed more comfortable now, despite everything was about money and growing. But he didn't let her know. So he continued complaining about the exaggerated capitalism and greed of the enterprises - like this one- and she couldn't help but rebut his points of view. She dismissed his doubts with passion. 'You're already here, Football Head. Take advantage of the experience. Must be a reason for it. So go and make your best'. And at the time she refuted his principles she talked about her job, her beliefs and her past. Probably inadvertently, but she talked about her life.
She told him of the times when she sold his father company. In sight of Mueller's great interest for the stores she asked twice its price. No cash. She wanted participation with him. After some complaining and even more negotiating, Henry agreed. When Helga signed the deal Miriam, Olga and she were the owners of the two percent of the value of Mueller Enterprises which was by far above the value of Big Bob Stores by itself. Helga was in charge and even when she hasn't the right to vote in the Counsel she still had some power. Nowadays the Patakis' wealth had reassessed several times its original value.
It was true that Helga was once Henry's personal assistant. But it was also true that she originally accepted the position only while she waited for the next semester to start at Columbia's. But as Helga got to know Mueller management and felt more comfortable with her job, her interest to go back to school was put aside and she remained in the company. Soon enough her position as Henry's assistant fell short and she had to move to positions with more responsibilities at the time that she came in close contact with the family. She actually lived with Henry and his wife for a while; when they moved to NY. It was also true that Mrs. Mueller loved her as a daughter.
When Miriam finally got out of rehab, for good, the two of them moved to the apartment Helga had bought in Upper West Side. When Miriam was independent again Helga moved to one of Mrs. Mueller properties in the City to finally live by herself. When Henry's wife died, victim of pancreatic cancer, she remembered her 'adopted' daughter in her will by leaving the property to her.
It seemed that Helga had had luck and a good life. It seemed that she had found some fairy Godparents and had a dream life, he thought as he saw her talking about her struggles later; when Henry finally let on her and Dick the control of the company and he stayed behind.
Arnold was old and wise enough to know that no dream life came by itself; meaning no effort to those who were lucky enough to be reached by it. When such thing happened, -fortune, without merit- it usually ended going eventually away.
But Helga had worked hard for the fortune to remain glued to her. She had finally gotten a degree in finances, if on-line, and had worked without fear day after day until reaching the seat she occupied now. Arnold could tell she wasn't lying. He knew her well enough to know all what she said was true, although he'd add luck was an important factor. Then a given day, when she was already the head of Finances, Henry left the taking of important decisions on her hands. He refused to give his consent or refusal like before; no advices or guidance anymore. She confided Arnold all the things that reached her mind; how her certitudes and insecurities surfaced to complicate everything. And the reasoning that led her to the way she acted at the end.
Her reasoning? Just do it. Walk on. Take a leap of faith and trust that you just made the right choice.
.
'There are no such things as good or bad choices honey,' Henry had told her later 'in the end they are only experiences.'
"Experiences that make you to earn or lose money" she had added, judicious "Money that is not yours…"
As time went by she had learned that experiences created reputations; and even when she had had successes she had also had her share of fails, but her balance was still positive because her feats had been the most.
"And my fails haven't been that bad, you know? It's only that they weren't the big shit." She added in the purest Helga Pataki's way: somewhat rudely, somewhat proudly.
But she probably has every right to be proud. She has a compromise with the company she worked for. She loved it. She fought for it every single day. She fought even against her own co-owners.
Arnold understood now why she was so annoyed back at the scene he witnessed in the Boardroom, when she complained because Dick questioned her methods. It made her angry because her choices involved loads of work. To know the numbers of given enterprise wasn't the job of a weekend or a month; it was the job of years assessing the ups and downs; risks and advantages; possibilities and projections; they were intuitions. The enterprises she put on the table last spring were under close observation for years. Dick asked her to explain this long and strenuous process in the meeting; as if they were talking about the process to make some popcorn!
Arnold frowned. Maybe Dick's real intention wasn't her explaining the process but her having a bad time. When he told her so she snorted and let him know she already knew it; and already knew what his real intention was. What 'their' real intention was, in fact, because Dick had a plan and an accomplice. When Arnold showed his worry –and his curiosity- she told him to drop it because she had years dealing with Dick's 'devious' plots and they never got to hurt her. She had everything under control.
And Arnold believed her. She looked so strong; so sure of herself. Her lucky star should be a really big one because she seemed indestructible.
Observing her form as she got up and walked around Arnold couldn't help but admit he was smitten; Helga had him captivated. If she was aware or not of his condition he couldn't tell. Sometimes he'd bet she knew and acted upon it on purpose, like right now: walking up and down her office; showing off her curves, her beauty. Some other times, she was totally immersed in her own things that she simply ignored his presence and let him begging inwardly for a little bit of attention. All in all, Arnold knew it wasn't only her physique what attracted him; it was all of her. Her demeanor, her sense of humor, her voice; the power she had; the reactions she caused around. The way she made him feel.
How had this happened? He was totally obsessed over her. He managed to raise his sight to look over his cubicle wall every time the elevator doors opened. He leaned back in his chair whenever he heard her voice in the other side of the floor. He looked for her every time that he got out of his floor, in every corner; each time he went to Floor 30; every time he stepped into the elevator; every time he got out of it. When she wasn't in town everything looked dull; the clock ticked slower; the day lost its significance.
Arnold sighed. He wasn't in love with her. It was just an infatuation; an obsession that filled his time and life. It was like a perverted entertaining; one that led him to misbehave in a way that was utterly unlike him but that at the same time satisfied the unending hunger to know everything about her. To know what did she think when she was silent, in his presence; what did she think when she wasn't; what did she say when she was with Henry, with Deb, with Dick, with the rest of people. The way she acted; the way her eyes looked at them; the way she smiled…
God, he was crazy! He exhaled.
At least not a thing about this unspeakable new vice of him watching her was known around… yet. He needed to be careful and he was. Deb was the only one who could be aware; but Arnold had already checked out that Deb suspicions had everything to do with their past history and nothing with the present. He felt reassured.
The other person who could suspect a thing was Claire. Fortunately she had been so busy lately that she didn't pay attention to him anymore; well other than her usual possessiveness or her over watchfulness when he talked too much about a certain somebody. But he had learned to keep his excitement at bay; to minimize any of the mordant commentaries that followed anything that had to do with Helga.
He had already told her he had had lunch with her. Helga had asked him and he couldn't refuse. He told her the details of the encounter because it'd be odd if he didn't, though he didn't elaborate that much; not the way he felt, at least. He told her she was in love.
Why he told her such thing?
Because it kept Claire reassured. Also because it seemed true.
But now, weeks and weeks later, he didn't know what to think anymore.
Two days ago, at her office, she'd received a call. She stood and walked away to answer it, quietly. She told to whomever on the other side of the line she was busy tonight; that she was attending to a reunion with Henry; that he already know Henry was always priority...
Everybody knew that. Henry was always her priority. But there was someone else. Arnold couldn't believe his ears. Was Helga a cheater?
Who could it be? By the way she spoke it seemed that the other guy was a stranger, someone from outside. What wasn't clear was if she lamented her choice; she was kinda mean to him. Two days later and Arnold had already come to the conclusion that there was no point in trying to guess who the guy was. He had wondered a hundred of times. But he didn't know all of her friends and acquaintances, let alone boyfriends. But…
How she had a boyfriend when she was with Henry?
He had asked her. Again. And snorted and rolled her eyes. Again. 'Don't be a prune.' She said, annoyed; and told him to go and mind his own business. And she meant it.
Because then she asked him about Claire. And warned him to be ready.
'What for?' He would ask.
'Human Resources upcoming meeting, my friend'.
'Good Luck with your girlfriend tonight'. He remembered Deb's words then. The meeting wasn't the problem. Dealing with Claire was.
How was it that them both anticipated Claire's reaction? Was their relation that easy to read?
Women!
It turned out that there was a conflict of interests related to the support they offered to Claire. Only one of them could stay and it'd be him. An hour later they talked to Claire and Brenda. The next couple of hours were spent in expectant silence until they arrived home; then Claire threw a fit that exacerbated when she knew he was going to leave town ' when she most needed him'. Arnold didn't know what to do. It was a nightmare.
Fortunately Brenda arrived. Arnold decided to go out for a while. He knew it had to be something hard to deal, the withdrawal of the funding. He'd decided he'd be nice; it wasn't only about him after all. When he was back Claire was calmed and composed; kindly offered him a cup of tea. She said she enjoyed the support as it lasted, and that she knew everything was for the greatest good. She congratulated him; said she was proud of him. And that was it.
She was a lively partner in bed that night, not that he expected her. She also was last night. Arnold didn't know what to think; to say he was confused fell short. She had been acting strange: being extremely supportive and smiling a lot, like a Stepford wife; and it was upsetting. Arnold became wary. He felt the impulse to look for a hidden bug, a camera or a complot against him but he knew it'd be insane. He didn't know what was going on in his girlfriend's mind anymore.
Women!
He found himself looking forward for a few weeks apart.
. . .
Something brought back Arnold's attention to the man on the screen. He was hesitating. Stan has Dick's clipboard in his hands now and his sight was fixed in the man as he spoke, or tried to.
How long it had been since his contemplation started. It couldn't be too long; it was the same man in the screen after all. How long an interview took? He turned to see his watch and realized they have hardly been ten minutes.
That was the mind's speed? Ten minutes to recall so many experiences? To relive them?
He turned around. Dick was getting up, leaning towards Stan as he mumbled something, being careful to remain out of camera shot. His expression was one of dismissiveness. Stan nodded. Then Dick left the table and got close to them.
"What a waste of time," Marty said as he approached. Dick snorted.
"Are you complaining? You just came in. We've been here the entire morning."
"Anything good?"
Dick nodded.
"Yeah, one - maybe two guys. One of them, Nirav… Something," he shrugged his shoulders "We'll see. For now I want you to be ready. We need to see the preliminaries before lunch or Stan will get pissed." The guys chuckled. Dick focused on Arnold "I guess you are Deb's guy, right?"
Arnold nodded
"Arnold Shortman" Arnold hesitated about extending his hand or not. The group seemed rather informal. He did nothing in the end.
"Alright Mr. Shortman," Dick looked at him and drew a wry smile on his face. "Deb says you're like a bookmobile. Let's see if a bookmobile is what we need."
"I hope you are nothing like Ralph." One of the guys said.
"Don't let us down." Another added. The rest of them chortled.
Arnold frowned
"Why you say that? Was Ralph a problem?"
"Let's say his girl hates our guts." Mike replied. His words brought a ripple of laugher which earned them an annoyed glare from Stan.
"Cut it off!" Dick said to the big guy, not too quietly this time. Stan glowered at him. Dick snorted making a gesture of obviousness that made everyone go silent. "Are you going to hire him? Because I'm not." He added.
Someone else said it was a waste of time. In sight of the thick atmosphere the RH man started to set the interview to an ending as Arnold realized that the group interaction orbited around Dick. He was the one who set the orders; he was the one who set the times. Arnold had already supposed it but he didn't think he'd see it this sound and clear. In no time the interview ended. Someone went to turn off the screen and the camera. Stan left the table and stomped towards them like an angry bull.
"You can't just cut it off," he started, addressing Dick.
"You were losing your time," Dick replied as he walked to the table, ignoring his belligerence "If you know we're not going to hire him just stop it. Don't let the guy harbor hopes. That's cruel."
"Cruel?!" Stan snorted "Cutting him off when he's talking is not cruel?"
"He is not our man and you knew it from the beginning."
"Alright, that was not our man but I can't just turn the screen off. There's a protocol."
"It's already done." Dick remarked, turning around to point out the now black screen.
Everyone else went to take their positions around the table. Marty signaled Arnold seat. There was a moment when Arnold wondered if this kind of scenes were usual. He saw Stan hesitating watching Dick taking his seat and starting his speech. Arnold was expectant, watching for the stressful scene to develop or to dissolve.
"Let's get to work. We have less than an hour to overview the situation before everyone gets grumpy."
Stan finally turned around and walked to his seat. The HR guy finished picking up his papers and turned to Dick.
"So… what do you think?"
"I'm only interested in numbers two and four..." he said "See if it's possible to have them here on Friday."
"Here?" the man raised his brow. "I thought you wanted to meet them in India?"
"No; I want to meet them here. When we put our feet on India we'll already have our man."
"When are you leaving?"
"Tuesday…" he shrugged, getting impatient.
"Tuesday? … why not Monday?"
"Just because," Dick looked at the man, confronting. The man was about to reply but seemed to think twice and let go.
"Alright" he said "I let you know how things go." and with that he left the office.
"What's gotten into him?"
Dick was still looking with disdain to the closed door.
"Now he questions your decisions?"
Arnold looked at his own papers as the group of guys set the mood for the meeting. As he'd said before, Dick's lead become obvious to his eyes, which remained glued to the spot in front of his desk. He was the Alpha male. The group looked like a bunch of bullies following the precepts of their leader. All of them were mumbling dismissive and trivial commentaries about the man that just left the office. They looked like something that Arnold had witnessed before but just couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly…
"… something to do with Helga, maybe?"
Arnold raised his sight to see the scene, but the man at the head of the table didn't react. Instead he straightened and called to order.
"Let's start. "
And they got started. Layouts of the enterprise; the setting of the different departments; production, shipping, storage, offices…. There were some aspects Arnold understood and some that he didn't. Every one of them seemed to know their part. A couple of videos of the plant itself and the production line were showed on the screen as they kept talking about the factory in detail. It was obvious it was the first time they were in contact with the information, and at least in that sense they were equal.
But that was the one aspect in which they were equal, because they seemed to know their job and Arnold felt like a bystander. Dick and Stan started to explain the preliminary but soon each one of them focused in their own part. Marty seemed to be the person in charge of logistics and Mike and the redhead focused in the production systems. Arnold felt lost for a moment. It was not nice to see people doing their work while doing nothing. The beefy dark haired man seemed the one who was going to be in charge of the personnel and Arnold got close to him because their jobs were similar.
Woody Stevenson had a very good notion of the procedures and doings of the situation at hand, but received in good mood his assistance; Arnold confirmed his understanding about employment regulations in India. It felt good to help. After a while Marty asked him about commercial laws too. The guys were just getting to know the company. It was the first time they were going to take charge of an enterprise located in India and in no time Arnold felt more at ease being helpful. Stan enumerated several aspects in which he'd require further information later and Arnold wrote it all down.
Arnold leaned back in his chair when a layout of the enterprise with the physical location of the almost eight hundred workers reached his hands. They were divided in small teams. It was interesting to see that the production area was divided in two because the offices were settled in the middle of the place. Arnold wondered if that was the usual way to do the things. He hadn't been in a manufacturing plant ever. He had always worked at building offices. He put the plan on the table noticing that Maintenance and Shipping Departments were at the bottom of the location when there was a knock in the door.
"Knock, knock, knock," A soft voice accompanied the sound; a second later the door opened and a slender figure could be seen standing there.
"Helga… what a surprise!" Stan got up from his chair. "Please, come in. We were missing you," his broad smile and extravagant politeness were so false that Arnold frowned. Something was off. He realized the rest of the guys were attentive to their interaction although they kept working.
"Oh, how nice of you, Stanley," Helga's voice also sounded fake. She curtsied and showed a cheesy grin. "Gracie told me you guys took a book that I need." She turned around. "Control and Regulations in…"
"… India." Woody spoke. "Here." He straightened and left his spot, walking to the end of the room where he took a thick book from the corner table "Do you really need it?" he made a face "Because I'm still…"
"Just a consultation. Need to check something up." She answered. She opened the book and raised her sight to find eight pairs of eyes fixed on her. "Jeez!" she exclaimed, amused "Why the hostility?!"
"What do you really want?" Stan asked, deadpan .
"I need a book. One that none of you is seeing, by the way." She used her finger as bookmark and held it in the crook of her arm. Walking to the door she added "I better go."
"Why do you need it right now?" This time it was Mike who asked.
"Gosh!" she turned around "Hmmm… I don't know if you are aware, pretty boy, but we just bought an enterprise in India," She spoke slowly, as if she was talking to a kid "and I'm still working in…"
"Come on!"
"Helga!"
"Don't be a jerk!"
"Then don't be a tool!" she countered. "God, what a bunch of idiots!" the entire group grumbled "I don't understand. What's your problem? Anyone would say you feel threatened by a girl; that you can't tolerate a little bit of estrogen in your testosterone fueled world."
"Look that it's just a little bit!"
"Typical grade-school retort." She scoffed "Do you know how many times I've heard it? Always coming from jerks like you, the hockey goon kind."
Hockey goons. Arnold hid his smirk. That was exactly the word he'd been looking for.
"You take advantage that you're a girl,"
Helga rolled her eyes. "Doi, of course I do, moron!" Marty cursed; the rest of the guys protested.
"What do you need to know?" Woody finally asked, trying to calm the moods.
Helga hesitated, then exhaled.
"The kind of enterprise we are…" she vacillated when the boys booed "I mean, considering the number of workers, do we obtain better tax benefits starting from …?"she paused "How many?"
"O-oh!" someone exclaimed "So you want to hire more workers?"
"There's no room to get more people in there. It's already a can!"
Helga shook her head dismissively and ignored their complaints. She nodded to Woody for an answer. When the guy did she continued asking related stuff. Arnold was attentive. It was his field of expertise after all and he'd wished she'd come to him for information rather than undergo this awkward scene. There was a moment when Woody vacillated that Arnold used to join in the conversation. Helga nodded listening to him explaining a technicality without showing they've already met. Arnold played along. Probably it was better this way so the guys didn't harass him later. He was finishing his explanation when Stan spoke again from his seat.
"Helga… you're distracting my boys," he said with unmasked impatience.
"Yeah, yeah. Bad Helga. It's my fault that your boys are so easily distracted." Helga turned to Woody "Still, I'd like to check it out." She signaled the book. "Can I have it for awhi…"
"You know?" Dick straightened from his position; a smug on his face as he capped the pen he'd been using. Then he spoke with deliberate slowness, "Henry has an…" he touched his elbow "… itch… in his arm," he smirked "and there's nobody around to nurse him…"
"Henry is here?" she asked astonished, raising her head on and pushing carelessly the book against Woody chest "Why didn't tell me before? I'm losing my time here," and with that she walked on. From the doorway she turned around to add "Thank you, Goody-Woody… Football Head…" and closed the door.
"That's my boss, yeah!"
Stan was high fiving Dick, whose smug had reached his entire face. The guys cheered. Arnold shook his head with disbelief. They were all grown men, for god's sake!
"God! She's crazy!"
"Why did you take so long?" the redhead asked.
"I wanted to know what she was up to…" Dick said, leaning over to his work again.
"What was she up to?"
"More personnel?" Mike asked, visibly concerned.
"The key word in here is how many people she's talking about…" Stan pondered.
"Guys," Dick called to order "I'll take care of that later. We still have work to do. I'm getting hungry."
As the guys gathered again around the table Marty got close to Woody and Arnold.
"So Goody-Woody, huh?" then turning to see Arnold he cracked a laugh and added "and Football Head? Sorry man. That's Helga Pataki for you, huh?"
"I've already had the pleasure," he smiled with indulgence. Remembering they weren't supposed to be friends he added for good measure "She's hot."
Woody elbowed him and Marty cleared his throat. Arnold got confused.
"You better stay away from her, my friend. She might be hot, but she's the devil."
'She devil? Helga? You must be kidding me!' Arnold looked around and saw a couple of guys throwing him cautionary looks. He turned to Woody who only shook his head.
. . .
Later, when they finally left the meeting after fixing a new one for the next morning, Woody and Arnold went to have lunch together. It was later than usual and his buddies were already at lunchtime. Woody explained to him that Helga was a bit of a taboo topic for them. They never talked about her if it wasn't to say she was a bitch. They never laughed at her jokes; never offered their help; and never, ever, said she was hot, smart, or funny.
"This is ridiculous!" Arnold chuckled. Noticing Woody solemnity, he asked "Why?"
"She's mean." The dark haired man shrugged his shoulders. "Besides, Dick hates her; so we all hate her too."
"Really?" Woody nodded. Arnold always thought that taking the things to the extreme was the worst way to deal with anything. Alright, Helga could be mean, but he'd thought Dick was a smart guy. "How mean can she be?" he asked looking at the solid guy that was in front of him.
"Come on, Arnold." He grumbled "I want to enjoy my meal here!"
Look that it was the hockey team who talked, huh?
. . .
I don't own Hey Arnold!
I don't own any other TM in here. I own only the plot and the OC.
And saying that I don't know a thing about commercial regulations, we go on. Thank you to all who read and mark it as follow/favorite. A thousand thank you to those who review: Raven Granger, Nep2uune, Jose Ramiro, CarlinJ83, Anonymous Latina and Presley Rox. You guys rock! Also I want to let you know I'm NOT leaving this story; it's just that real life consumes most of my time and energy. I cannot promise frequent updates, but suffice to say that this fic is always in my mind and that is matter of time to see it written and developed here.
Happy and successful 2015 to you all!
January 11th, 2015.