Gus and Shawn sat against a wall while Gus harried him into drinking the rest of the Orange-Mango Sunny Delight. It was warm, which made Shawn complain, but when Gus gave him the option of downing it or getting it poured over his head, he gulped.

"The Mummy," Gus said contemplatively.

"Probably not... maybe if it was, like, a corpse reanimated."

"That's not better, Shawn." Gus shuddered. "Werewolves?"

"I'd say... yeah, they gotta be." Shawn's eyes widened. "Remember that couple that was mauled and partially eaten by 'mountain lions' a few years ago? Weren't their hearts gone?"

Gus shook his head. "This is messed up."

"But kind of awesome," Shawn said, the corners of his mouth turning up. Gus gave him a scrutinizing look, Shawn shrugged at him, and then Gus rolled his eyes and nudged the orange drink bottle back at him.

Several feet away, Sam, Dean, Juliet, and Lassiter were standing in a small circle while the two hunters explained everything they'd ever seen or heard about true vampire lore. "Like a bad sunburn," Dean said, "but it won't kill you. If you got extra dark shades and you suit up even in the summertime, you might be okay."

"I'm a detective," Lassiter said. "I dress properly for my job."

Sam was looking at Juliet, who had her notepad out and was writing. "What about any other poisons—is there anything else that could be toxic or fatal?" she asked, and looked up.

"Just the blood of a dead man and an 'off with his head'," Dean said.

"As far as we know," Sam added. "It's very possible that we don't know everything. We've been hunting almost all of our lives, but until last year we thought vampires were myth. Our dad never told us about them because he thought they were extinct, so all we have to go on is what he was told by other hunters, and the few times we've seen them."

"What was it you said earlier about animal blood?" Juliet asked. She glanced at Lassiter when he made an involuntary sound of disgust. "Or stored blood?" she suggested.

"We met a girl last year whose nest got by drinking cow blood," Dean said. "They didn't like it, said it was majorly gross in fact, but they didn't hurt people."

"I'm not going to hurt people," Lassiter said firmly. "That's not who I am, and I'm the same person I was. If there are other ways to get by, I'll find them."

"That's great," Sam said sincerely. "You know, it doesn't matter what you are, it matters what you do. Just remember that, because it might be kind of hard in the beginning, here, while you're still figuring things out, to control your new instincts when it comes to feeding—how much, and when."

"You don't know something of a guideline?" Juliet asked. "Every day, every few days, every week?"

"I think older vamps need fresh blood every few days, maybe once a week," Sam said, frowning. "But the only fresh-made vamps we've come across, we had to, um, dispatch."

"Because they were attacking people," Dean said.

"I said I won't," Lassiter snapped.

Sam put his hands up. "Easy, we're just saying. You're also going to have to control your temper, because that second set of teeth is going to want to pop out if you want to fight, not just when you want to feed."

"That's going to go over real well in Interrogation Room B," Dean said. "Make Mikey Methhead 'fess up real quick."

"Are you on duty the next few days?" Sam asked, looking between the detectives.

"Tomorrow is our day off, but we'll actually be on duty for a week of nights after that," Juliet said.

Dean snorted. "Isn't that convenient."

Sam ignored him, made eye contact with Lassiter, and nodded to Juliet. "You're going to want to keep her around as much as you can, since she knows what's going on. I think the reason new vampires fly off the handle and attack when they get hungry is because it comes on really fast and really intense, and they just go crazy and can't stop themselves. You know it's going to happen again soon, but you don't know when." He glanced at Dean. "We can try to break into a blood bank, if that'll help."

Lassiter shook his head, his arms folded. "I can't condone that."

"Stored blood probably won't be good enough at first, either," Dean said. "New vamps rarely hit the local red cross, they go for people, for fresh, warm blood."

"Shawn said he would help you," Juliet told Lassiter quietly. "And not just this last time."

"I heard him," he said, and looked over toward Shawn and Gus again, frowning slightly. Shawn and Gus had their heads together and were murmuring solemnly.

Dean frowned. "How? That was before he got close to you again, and you were zonked out."

"Oh look, something you apparently didn't know." Lassiter rolled his eyes. "I was largely immobile, and very nauseated, but I could still hear everything."

"We didn't know that," Sam confirmed. "That might be good to know in the future." They were all quiet for another long moment, awkward again. "Well, even if Shawn's on board to feed you whenever he can, that might not work for every time you get hungry," Sam said at last. "I don't know how much blood you're going to need, but humans need to wait several weeks between, you know, donations. It might work to have less more often, but it might not, and he kind of strikes me as the sort who's going to not care if he actually doesn't feel up to it, if he thinks he has to."

"That's Shawn," Juliet agreed. "If something doesn't matter to him, he's lazy and perfectly content to let everyone else handle the work. But this does matter."

"Are you guys talking about me?" Shawn called. "I hope it's about my birthday party."

"Your birthday was four months ago," Gus reminded him.

"And did anyone surprise me?"

"I gave you a fifty dollar gift card for Subway!"

"Not a surprise," Shawn insisted. "You had Subway wrappers in your trash for a week—that was when they were having that gift card special where you got a free meal for every twenty-five in cards you bought. And since when do I want to eat fresh? You know me, Gus, I want to eat old, nasty, greasy cheesy goodness."

Juliet began walking over to them, and everyone else followed. "Hey," she said, crouching down. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," he said. "And a little hungry, actually. What time is it?"

"Almost midnight," Sam said, checking his phone. "You should probably eat." He snorted. "But not something old, or greasy."

"Don't tell me how to live my life," Shawn said loftily. "I do feel like I want to sleep for a week, though."

"That would be the blood loss," Gus said. "If this is going to become a regular thing, you're going to need some iron pills, maybe some B12, so you don't get anemic." He brightened. "I'll do some research and see what else will help."

"Gus, do you have access to syringes and tubing, and sterile storage containers?" Juliet asked.

"I'm sure I could, why?"

"Because it doesn't sound likely that Shawn is going to be able to safely give up enough blood for Detective Lassiter," she said. "I can help—I'll save up a little every day for supplemental purposes. Hopefully there really won't be any need to take from a blood bank's supply, and we can work together to adjust to this."

"Yeah, you got this wrapped up in a neat little package," Dean said. "You know we'll be watching to hear anything about you, Officer Fang."

Lassiter gave him a look that almost made him take a step back, and Shawn snorted, recognizing it as the same look he'd terrorized the general masses with for years. "And I'll be watching for you, you goddamn psycho," he almost growled.

"Who's the bloodsucker in the room, Jack?" Dean demanded.

"That knife you're carrying reeks of blood," Lassiter shot back. "And guess what else? I've got your scent now."

"You're clearly a good cop, and your job is protecting people from possible dangers," Sam said. "That's basically our job too. If your friends are going to take care of you, and you can control yourself, there's no reason we'd ever have to come back."

"Good," Lassiter said, and then he rubbed a hand across his face. "This is unbelievable. I just got used to the new regulations on weapons discharge paperwork, and now this."

"Don't worry Lass," Shawn said. "We'll fix you up nice, find you a great cape at Fangs 'N Thangs. You just got eight hundred percent cooler."

Sam looked at his brother. "I think they're good here," he said. "The other hunters got the nest, and we didn't find any evidence of demons already here. Anything else you can think of, before we go?"

"Demons?" Gus gasped. He smacked Shawn's shoulder. "I told you the salt lines were for a reason, Shawn!"

"I thought you were making a protective circle for us to keep my dad out," Shawn said, shrugging. He glanced up at Sam and Dean. "How do you tell if someone's possessed?"

"You think your dad—" Sam began, his eyebrows raised.

Shawn waved at him. "Nah, he's been like that since I was a kid. Although he did recently go on a low-sodium diet—he made me dinner last week and he marinated the steak with fruit, ugh. I was just curious."

"Look it up," Dean said shortly. "There's lots of lore out there if you want to know, we don't have time to teach you how to keep your dumb ass safe."

Sam had his phone out and was scrolling his contacts. "I'm going to call Bobby," he said. "Just in case he can think of anything crucial they should know before we go, since this is so entirely new to everyone." He glanced up, his eyes lingering on Juliet's face. "I wish we could stay and tell you more, I really do," he said. "But there's—my brother's right, there's so much else out there and we kind of have full plates with our own stuff."

She nodded. "We understand. I'm sure Gus and I will be able to find out a lot on our own."

"Hey Bobby," Sam said when he answered. "We've kind of got a situation here, uh... no, we're fine, everyone's okay. We did actually catch up with some other hunters—they took out most of the nest last night, but, see, they missed one..." He quickly explained everything that had happened, with lots of wincing while Bobby cursed in his ear. "I know," he said. "Look, I'm going to put you on speaker." He pressed a button and held the phone out. "Detectives, this is our friend Bobby—he's a hunter that our dad knew, and our number one go-to-guy about all things supernatural. He, um, has a few questions."

"Calling all mental rejects," a coarse voice said angrily. "Dean, is your brother winding me up for some reason? You let this go down? And there's cops involved, one of them now a vamp?"

"Hey, I tried," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "I got voted off the island."

"Excuse me, sir," Juliet said. "We have a plan, and we're all going to be working together to make sure my partner is taken care of and safe."

"It ain't him I'm worried about!" Bobby shouted. "I'm sorry lady, but you have no idea what you're dancing with."

"You want to watch how you talk to her," Lassiter said. "I'm responsible for myself and for these people. This is none of your business, and if you're higher in rank as some sort of hunter than these two, I suggest you call them back to base and let us handle ourselves. We do not have to answer to you," he added, giving Sam an annoyed look for putting them on the spot with a lecture.

"We don't really have ranks," Sam said. "Bobby's just—more experienced."

"I don't give a damn," Lassiter said. "I've been Head Detective for eleven years, and this mess isn't going to get out and put an end to that. I'll do my job, you two need to shove off and do yours—go take down the Easter Bunny or something."

Shawn snickered, and then sat up excitedly. "Ohmygod, Halloween!" he said. "Lassie, seriously—what are you going as this year?"

"A psychic," Lassiter said sarcastically.

"What you are, head detective, is a stuck-up, self-important gas bag," Bobby said. "You're going to kill someone."

Lassiter pointed at the phone, glaring at Sam now. "This is the 'agent' you had me call earlier, isn't it?" he asked. "How did you get the FBI passcodes?"

"I know a psychic," Bobby said.

Lassiter folded his arms again. "So do we."

Shawn raised his eyebrows, and then he grinned and touched his forehead. "I'm sensing something," he said. "I'm smelling bacon. Pigs! No, bad spirits—Lassie and Jules are our friends."

"Really?" Lassiter demanded, rolling his eyes.

"Pigs and chickens," Shawn went on. "Ooooh, they smell delicious."

"Bacon and eggs?" Gus suggested. "Breakfast?"

"Yes!" Shawn said, and bumped fists with him. "Breakfast at midnight. My psychic senses are sticky, and covered in syrup."

"Your psychic senses are bullshit," Bobby said.

"Hey!" Shawn protested. "Your name is Bobby, what are you, twelve?"

Sam looked at Dean, who was smirking hugely at what they both knew was coming. "What did you say to me, you little pissant?" the phone roared. "I don't give a shit if you're claiming to be psychic because you're lazy or because you just like conning people, but one day it's going to bite you in the ass and everyone around you's just going to laugh."

Shawn looked at Gus, grinning. "I like Bobby, he reminds me of my dad."

"You have issues," Dean said.

"Yeah, I'm the only one," Shawn scoffed. He glanced at Dean, and then addressed the phone. "Hey Bobby, did you know that Dean likes boooooys?"

"Shawn!" Juliet scolded.

"You shut the fuck up!" Dean said at the same time.

"He was mean!" Shawn said indignantly.

"Is that supposed to be news?" Bobby asked.

Dean froze, and looked at the phone in Sam's hand uncertainly before looking at his brother, who shrugged. "Bobby?" Dean said after a minute. "What—"

"Please, kid," Bobby said. "Your daddy came bellyaching and whining about that to me when you were, what, sixteen? I told him to stop being such a pantywaist and deal with it. You are who you are, and you're family. You be with you want—it doesn't mean shit, and it's high time you got over yourself."

Silence. Juliet still gave Shawn a disapproving look and Lassiter had his head cocked toward the door, listening to the world outside; Shawn and Gus looked surprised, but that was nothing to the look of shock on Dean's face. Sam watched him carefully, compassionately.

"Oh my god," Shawn said after a moment. "Can Bobby seriously be my dad?" He looked at Sam and Dean. "My dad would never say something like that."

"Neither would ours," Dean said quietly.

"No," Sam agreed. "Uh, Bobby, thanks for saying that, I think Dean's needed to hear it for awhile. But to get back to the subject, um, I think these guys here probably can take care of this themselves and watch out for each other, as long as Dean and I didn't forget anything major, and they're going to be reading up on some lore as well. They're good cops, I think they'll be okay."

"Goody for the cops that you can think," Bobby said. "I'm out. You boys call me before you decide to facilitate any more human upgrades."

Sam sighed and flipped his phone closed. "I hope you can understand why we'll be checking in occasionally. It's not to be nosy, it's to keep people safe."

"We understand," Juliet said.

"Isn't it a good thing to have more people in the know?" Gus asked timidly. "Just in case there are more bad vampires, or werewolves, or the creature under the bed?" His eyes widened. "Is there a creature under my bed?" he demanded.

"I dunno, did you check?" Dean asked.

"It might be good," Sam said carefully. He glanced at Juliet again. "Let me give you my number?" he said. "If something comes up that you're not sure about, or you want more information, or you just..." He tried on a smile, ignoring his brother's jackass grin and hoping everyone else wasn't staring.

She smiled back, though it was just a small one. "Thank you. Trust me, we understand the potential for disaster here. We won't let that happen, but we appreciate what you do." The smile dropped from her face as she glanced at Dean, but she didn't say anything else as she took out her cell phone.

.

"That chick 'bout broke my nose," Dean said half an hour later, tenderly touching his face as he drove east. "You gonna, what, date her now?"

"I don't know," Sam said truthfully. "I like her. She does what needs doing to solve the problem and save her partner no matter what. Kind of like someone else I know."

Dean grunted and rubbed at the second spot Juliet had punched. "What a fucked up job," he muttered.

"I don't know," Sam said again. "I mean... their lives are never going to be the same, obviously, but... hey, they're not the only ones. Lots of things could be different now."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You could just say it, Sammy."

"So could you."

"Fine," Dean said. "I got a year to live, so—so fuck it. Maybe I do want to fuck dudes."

Sam started laughing, and after a moment to consider it all, Dean started to grin as well.

.

Juliet and Lassiter took Shawn and Gus to an all-night diner for some food, a move nearly everyone regretted when Shawn began pouring maple syrup into his coffee and Lassiter started nudging Juliet and pointing out which of the diner's other patrons were carrying pot.

"Try it," Shawn wheedled, when Gus confiscated his cup.

"But I can smell it," Lassiter insisted. He paused, and gave a sidelong look to a dirty-looking man in a sweatshirt sitting at the counter. "And that man is wearing his mother's underwear," he said, and Gus choked on his orange juice.

Shawn sat up from where he'd been half-lying on Gus. "How do you know they're his mother's?"

"Don't answer that!" Gus said.

"I can smell them," Lassiter said. He looked around, ignoring Gus's gagging, a bemused look on his face. "I can smell everything. Like how much dope those teenagers currently have on them."

"Look at your hand," Shawn commanded. Lassiter glanced at him and then did. "Can you see stuff you couldn't before?"

"Yes."

"Now say, 'whoa, dude, look at my hand'." Shawn grinned. "That's what the flower power kids in the corner are saying."

Lassiter gave him a look and Juliet patted his hand. "Let this one go, partner."

"On the upside, think about how easy it's going to be to bust people now," Shawn said. "You can hear heartbeats, right? You'll know when someone you're interrogating is lying or unduly nervous, you'll be able to smell drugs and spilled blood, you'll hear people whispering, and getting shot won't kill you." He paused. "Don't get shot—that'll just look weird."

"Speaking of shooting," Juliet said, looking worried. "I discharged my weapon earlier tonight. We need to think of a plausible reason for that so that I can do the paperwork."

"Ghosts," Gus mused.

"Why would shooting a ghost hurt it?" Shawn asked. "They're already dead."

"No, I mean—if they're really real?" He got out his phone, and there was no way Shawn could resist.

"Who ya gonna call?" he demanded.

Gus rolled his eyes. "Sam Winchester. I know he said they're busy, but it's not cool to leave us with all of this, there are just too many questions."

Juliet put her hand over Gus's phone. "I think we all need to get some sleep, if we can," she said. "I'll go with you to the library tomorrow and we'll see what we can find. We can also work up a list of questions and possible follow-ups to save time if we do need to call Sam."

Gus nodded, putting his phone away again. "Good idea." He made a face. "As long as no one has to talk to that Bobby again. He strike anyone else as your off-the-rack crotchety old white dude in flannel and a trucker hat?"

"Yes," Lassiter said, glaring at the rest of his french toast, and then he nodded at Juliet. "Let's go. I'll help you with your weapons discharged form, since I'm quite familiar with it now."

As soon as Gus was settled into the back seat of Lassiter's car, Shawn leaning on him and dozing again, he remembered that his own car was still back at the warehouse. "Can we be dropped off back at that warehouse, please?" he asked. "My car is still there, and it's a work vehicle, so I can't leave it until tomorrow." Shawn's head was too heavy on his shoulder and he shifted, making Shawn sit up and sigh. "But we should probably take Shawn home first so he can get to sleep," Gus added.

"Of course," Juliet said.

When Lassiter pulled up in front of Shawn's apartment, everyone looked at him in surprise when he unbuckled his seat belt. "O'Hara, take Guster to get his car, then come back here and get me," he said.

"Sure," she said, and scooted over into the driver's seat when he vacated it.

"I don't need a grown-up to get up the stairs," Shawn said, and then suddenly he patted his pockets. "Crap, where are my keys? Never mind, I think the door's still unlocked."

"You haven't slept since the night before last, and you lost some blood, and you're you," Gus pointed out. "You'd fall headfirst down the steps and end up sleeping on the landing."

"What does being me have to do with anything?" Shawn asked indignantly as Lassiter came around the back of the car and opened his door. Shawn looked up, a little uncertain. "Really, Lassie, I'll be fine," he said.

"Evidently you and I have an arrangement to work out," he said. "Get out of the car."

"This vampire thing really isn't helping your creepy quotient," Shawn said, not bringing up the fact that he'd declared it made him cooler just a couple of hours ago, and he obeyed.

Gus had been right, of course—halfway up to the third floor, Shawn started to feel weak and a little dizzy, and Lassiter had an arm around the small of his back almost at once. When they got into Shawn's apartment (which had indeed been left unlocked, something Lassiter rolled his eyes at but didn't comment on), Lassiter ran him a glass of water and then stood with his arms folded, watching him drink it.

"Stop, I learned my lesson," Shawn complained after a few minutes. "No more sneaking into buildings where there might be literal monsters."

"Stop what?"

"I don't know, looking mad." Shawn studied his glass so that he didn't have to see Lassie's face. "I know I've done a lot of stupid things, but this time—look what happened to you. I'm really, really sorry. So... I guess just text me when you're getting hungry and I'll let you know where I am, or we can decide on where to meet, or—I don't know. I guess we're gonna have to figure this thing out together."

"Right," Lassiter said, and then— "I'm not angry with you about what happened. I meant it when I said I don't believe that it's your fault. You and Gus could have been killed, and that was your doing. But we all know that before tonight there wouldn't have been a power on earth that could have gotten me to believe there were vampires in Santa Barbara—you could have expressly told me exactly what was going to happen and I would have done the same exact thing." He paused, and sighed. "I'd do it again. The other one wasn't going to turn you, it was going to kill you. And we both know I'm going to adjust to this a hell of a lot better than you could."

"Dream on," Shawn said, the corners of his mouth turning up. Then he shrugged and leaned against his counter. "You're probably right. You're now the most badass cop in the whole city—criminals will wet themselves at the thought of you coming five miles away. And then you'll smell it." He snorted when Lassie shook his head and rubbed at the spot on his forehead between his eyes. "And then there's me—you'd end up having to tell my dad I was decapitated, and he'd put I Told You You'd Lose Your Head If It Wasn't Attached on my tombstone."

"He probably would," Lassiter agreed. There was a short, almost awkward pause, and then he said, very quietly, "Thank you, Spencer."

Shawn raised his eyebrows. "For what?"

"For..." He gestured aimlessly, and then sighed. "I guess the term is feeding me."

"Oh." Shawn shrugged. "You saved me."

"You saved me too," Lassiter said. "That dead blood didn't put me into an entirely unconscious state. I could hear everything—there were some very tense moments when the hunters were adamant that I should die, and I—" He stopped and pressed his lips together again.

"Were scared?"

"I wondered if they were right to do it."

Shawn looked surprised, and then he shrugged again. "Too bad," he said. "Jules and I weren't going to let that happen no matter what."

"I know." Lassiter looked at him again, and Shawn had to drop his eyes back down to his water glass when he saw how penetrative the glance was. "Did you know..." Lassiter began slowly, and when Shawn looked back up at him, he saw that his expression was now contemplative. "Apparently, human blood can carry emotion with it," he said. "Or vampires are highly attuned into what humans are feeling when they're feeding."

"Uh..." Shawn said, because that seemed to require some sort of response. "No, how would I know that?"

Lassiter shrugged. "Apparently you know everything else." He paused again. "These new senses are interesting. I know a lot more now than I did before."

Shawn found that his mouth was dry, and he drained the remainder of the water in his glass. "Yeah? Like what?"

"Well," Lassiter said, tilting his head slightly to one side. "I know how much you enjoyed it. You liked it. A lot."

"Um." Shawn licked his lips and considered his empty glass, unable to look up. "So... you could tell that, huh?"

"Yes," Lassiter said softly. "You were... aroused."

There was a long moment of near absolute silence in which Shawn's mind raced to find the correct response, and Lassiter considered the smell of his anxiety—he wasn't fidgeting, or blabbering like he normally did, but his heart was beating faster and his breathing had slowed, causing a tightness in his chest. He was about to dismiss it all, because if any time was the time perhaps this wasn't it, but suddenly, Shawn laughed.

"Hey," he said. "I wasn't kidding when I said it was hot. Sorry." He shrugged nonchalantly, but he spoke to the window above the sink. "Couldn't really help it. You had your arms around me and you were holding me, with your tongue and mouth on my neck. Do I taste good?" His tone was teasing, but he was still unable to meet Lassiter's eyes.

"Yes," Lassiter said, meaning it, because it hadn't just been the taste, it had been him. Shawn.

Now he did look at him, surprised but wary, and... hopeful. "Oh. Really? That's... interesting. Or... it could be, maybe it's not, I don't know," he said quickly.

O'Hara would be back soon, and Lassiter didn't want to keep her waiting or to leave this for later, when it might stagnate instead of grow, because of all of the things he could see, and hear, and smell, there was also a huge thing that he could feel. Potential. He walked closer slowly, stopping when he was directly in front of him, and waited until Shawn looked up—his face was solemn now and he was trembling very slightly, but Lassiter knew that it had nothing to do with a physical weakness.

"Shawn," he said, very quietly. "Things are changing for me in ways I still can't completely comprehend. My entire life needs reevaluating. Please be one hundred per cent clear with me right now."

"Okay," Shawn breathed, and then he went for what he'd wanted for almost a year. He put both of his hands on Lassie's face, pulled him down a little, and kissed him. He felt slightly dizzy again and closed his eyes when Lassiter pressed against him, kissing him back, and he moaned very softly when he realized that he was lightheaded again, this time too much to attribute to the amazing feeling of having Lassie's arms around him again. Lassiter broke the kiss and moved them both to the table, helping Shawn into a chair, where he slumped for a few seconds before sticking out his lower lip. "That was a crappy first kiss, wasn't it?" he said, when he could. "Can I call a do-over?"

"It wasn't crappy," Lassiter said. He almost asked if that was because of what had happened, but then he found that he didn't need to—Shawn's relief and happiness was too much for it to have just been building for a few hours. Shawn closed his eyes and breathed slowly, and as Lassiter watched him, he searched his memory and decided that the decision he'd made months ago, to treat all of Spencer's antics—especially those that could be construed as flirting with him—as simply foolish jackassery, had been a bad one. This was a better one. He laid his hand on his forearm and squeezed, but very gently. "Shawn."

"Yeah?"

"You need to go to sleep. We can talk tomorrow, if you want."

"I want," he said at once, and opened his eyes. "You're going to go help Jules with her naughty gunshot paper?"

He nodded. "I'm going to need to sleep too."

"The night life chooses you," Shawn said, and then he grinned slowly. "Hey, uh... you know, there aren't any windows in my bedroom. It's really dark in there during the day... if you want to come crash here when you're done at the PD..."

Lassiter thought about it and realized three things almost at once: Shawn wanted him to, he wanted to, and he could. "All right," he said, and smiled. "I suppose we're going to be exploring more than one new thing together."