A/N: This starts immediately where the last chapter ended—we're still on the same day, which if you want to get super technical is 9/14/11 (well, I guess 9/15 considering how late it really is). Here is more fluff, and wow I think I suck at writing semi-awkward make-out scenes, but yeah. Sorry I'm not giving you more yaoi action (I'm a total yaoi fangirl sometimes, too) but this story just turned into something else.

Also, I wrote the scene with "Two Truths and a Lie" a long time ago and have since seen another fic that uses it. I tried to change it but nothing else worked the way I wanted it to, so I left it in.

"Guys, your room smells like a dirty gym sock," I say, crinkling up my nose. Kyle glares at Stan and grunts in what I assume is agreement as he walks to the window to let in some air. Stan grabs a box of Cheesy Poofs and starts throwing them in the air, one by one, and catching them in his mouth. Food again, already?

"Hit me," Kyle says, and Stan throws a Cheesy Poof in his general direction. He moves left to catch it in his mouth and smiles. I laugh.

"What is it with you guys and Cheesy Poofs?"

"Um, Cheesy Poofs are sweet, that's what it is." Stan throws another neon-orange lump at Kyle.

"Okay…um, I gotta see what the big deal is. Hit me, too, I guess."

Stan lifts his arms up in a victory "V" and yells "Score!" before fishing a Cheesy Poof out of the box and chucking it at my head. I go to catch it with my mouth, but change my mind at the last minute and grab it with my hand instead. I gingerly touch it to my tongue and cringe. "Eew, guys, this is so nasty. Ugh." I toss the offensive thing in the direction of the trash can, but Stan leaps up and catches it. Kyle cheers.

I flop down on to the huge beanbag chair and stretch my legs out in front of me. I should ask Kyle for some boxers or something so I don't have to sleep in a skirt. And maybe Stan will share one of his pillows. I decide I'll ask them…just as soon as I rest my eyes.

-XXX-

"No way dude. Don't do it, Stan!"

"Don't do what?" I can hear a mischievous smile in Stan's voice, which is only a stage whisper. I open one eye, sleepily remembering that I'm in Stan and Kyle's room after being unceremoniously banned from my own. I feel like I've been asleep for hours, but a glance at the clock tells me it is only just after midnight. That was the longest 20-minute nap ever. As I crack open my other eye, I realize why I feel so disoriented: the room is almost pitch dark save for the light from the computer monitor. The speakers fill the room with Bright Eyes, but I can still hear the boys' half-whispered exchange.

"Damn it, Stan, we aren't alone. Can't you keep it in your pants for one—ohh. That's it, you're gonna get it for that!"

"She's over there passed out dreaming about Kenny. Come on, Ky…unless you want me to wake her up and ask her to join."

"Dude! That's just…just…"

If I wasn't awake before, I am now. Keeping my body still, I turn my eyes to Kyle's bed, where I can see the boys' silhouettes backlit by the screensaver. Stan is straddling the redhead, clad only in boxers. He has Kyle pinned, one hand around each of his wrists. Contrary to his words, it doesn't look like Kyle is putting up much of a fight. Keeping his hands in place, Stan leans down and engages his partner in a very sexy kiss. As much as I'm tempted to stay, the rational part of my mind is screaming, "I'm outta here!"

I close my eyes and feign a stretch, trying to make sure my voice sounds sleep-soaked. "Hey, guys?" I open my eyes. At least they look embarrassed. I smirk, letting them know that I'm on to them. "I'm actually not as tired as I thought. I'm going to see if Butters wants to walk to Tweak Bros and get some cheesecake. I'll crash in his room. See you tomorrow, okay?" The lack of light doesn't hide the fact that both boys are blushing as I grab my bag and turn to wave. I smile to myself, but it's bittersweet. I'm not sure I can handle the cuteness right now.

The hallway is brightly lit, fluorescent bulbs ever vigilant. I lean against the wall and type out a text to Butters.

-hey buddy you alone?

The answer comes shockingly fast.

-no:)

Damn. I'm happy for him, but pissed that I am once again alone.

-yay, have fun. details tomorrow or STFU!

Tweak Bros is open all night, and I really am hungry, so I sit down and start to search through my bag for my wallet. Makeup bag, notebook, PSP, Scott Pilgrim graphic novel…where the hell is it? I let out a sharp "Fuck!" as I remember that I left it in my glove box after leaving Village Inn. My damn car is in the resident lot half a mile away…on the opposite side of campus from Tweak Bros. I start to shovel the detritus back in my bag, cursing the fact that I purchased my parking pass so late in the game and got a crappy lot assignment. I'm sliding the book into the side pocket when I feel rather than hear someone approach.

I look up to see a pair of worn black Chucks attached to legs encased in skinny jeans. I keep going, and when my eyes reach the ratty red hoodie, I can't help but smile. I lift my arms in a "help me up" gesture, and Kenny pulls me up directly into a hug.

"I feel like such a douchebag."

"Oh, please, don't even worry about it." My smile is audible; my face still buried in his neck. I know I'm forgiving him too easily, but I don't care.

"I think twelve hours late is some kind of record. I wasn't sure you would even be here, or want to talk to me, but I needed to apologize in person…"he trails off, breaking the hug but running his hands down my arms to twine his fingers with mine. "I'm a dickhead. And I'm sorry. I don't have an excuse."

"Well, you came at the perfect time now, so I forgive you. Come on, we have to go to my car to get my damn wallet so I can hit Tweak Bros. I'm starving."

-XXX-

"I don't think a café mocha with 'a pile of whipped cream' counts as food," Kenny laughs as we leave Tweak Bros. I lick a glob of whipped cream off the top of the fancy coffee and smile.

"Oh, come on…it has sugar, fat, and caffeine. There's not a single other thing I need. Food-wise, anyway."

"I swear, the only thing I have ever seen you eat is about half a slice of French toast, and I'm pretty sure you snuck it when I was in the bathroom, so I really didn't see anything."

"Sorry…I have this…thing about people watching me eat. My brother used to-" I'm cut off by Kenny grabbing my free hand and pulling me into his arms. I have to hold my arm out at a weird angle to keep the sloshing coffee cup from spilling scalding liquid all over my hand. He kisses the top of my head.

"I have an idea," he half-whispers.

"Okay, you are hyper. Did you drink a whole pot of Tweak's Black Eye blend before you came to see me?" Kenny's ADD act is so endearing that it makes my heart race; I realize that I haven't stopped smiling since I looked up to see him standing before me in the hallway.

"No, this is called being happy. Come on, there's something I want to show you."

-XXX-

The moonlight glints off the lake as fog rises from the surface, giving it a haunted appearance. The whole area is surrounded by evergreens, and a rickety wooden sign that has seen better days declares the area to be "Stark's Pond."

Kenny takes my hand and tugs gently. "Come on," he says with an impatient smile.

We skirt the lake until we are directly across from where we stood moments ago. The evergreens are thicker here, but we cut through them, coming to a stop at the base of what looks like a bigtooth maple. I tilt my head back and look up; a small structure among the branches catches my eye and my pulse quickens as I realize what it is.

I turn my attention back to Kenny and cock my head. "You know about my tree-climbing obsession? Or was this just a lucky guess?"

He shyly looks down at the ground and bounces on his toes. "I just…remembered that night we first met…" He looks up at me and grins. "You did jump down from out of that tree, so…I figured you wouldn't be opposed to checking out the old treehouse."

"You are officially, 100% forgiven for…whatever kept you from going with us today." I don't let him know that all it really took was him showing up to apologize, no matter how late he was.

From the treehouse, we can see the entire lake. The structure only has three actual walls, so I sit facing the open space and let my feet dangle over the edge. Fog ghosts dance restlessly across the water as the trees stand sentry. The air is so still, I can hear mine and Kenny's breathing. He breaks the silence.

"What were you doing out in the hallway anyway, when I came to find you?"

"Oh, that…ugh, when we got home from Village Inn, I found a note from my roommate, who finally decided tonight was the night for her first actual stay in the room. With a guy. She left a scrunchie on the door and everything. So Stan and Kyle invited me to stay with them, but when I dozed off they…" I wave my hand in the air to indicate that the rest is best left to his imagination. He laughs.

"Oh, wow, I am so sorry, if I had known-"

"No more apologies!" I hold my hands up in a "stop it" gesture. I try on an evil smirk. "You did miss a lot, though. Butters gave himself a sort of makeover, and Village Inn will probably never let us back in after the mess we made. Cartman left with Wendy, and I'm pretty sure Butters and Tweek are in Butters' room now." I pause. "And we missed you." Well, I missed you, I silently add.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm-" Bravery possesses me and I make a move, tackling the blonde boy and shutting him up with a kiss. When I pull away, he smiles. "Is that what happens when I apologize? Because I can-" I cut him off again, just because I can. If he is shocked by my audacity, it doesn't show. I move even closer, thrilled at the idea of making out in a treehouse, but a Star Wars lightsaber sound effect intrudes upon the moment. Text message.

"Hold that thought," I say, reaching out and upending my bag to find the interrupting piece of technology. It's Kyle.

- you ok? *embarrassed*

I respond:

-treehouse with Kenny. more than ok. talk tomorrow.

When I look up from my phone, Kenny is holding a sheet of paper, studying it in the moonlight. "What's this?" he asks.

I take it from his hands. It takes me a moment to recognize it, but when I do, I laugh. "It's from orientation at the dorm. It's a list of some icebreaker games they wanted us to play. One's a bunch of sentence stems; you're supposed to prompt the other person to complete them. And then this one is 'Two Truths and a Lie,' where you list off….well, two true things and one lie, and your partner has to guess which one is bullshit. Nobody did it though. I can't believe I still had that in my bag." I absentmindedly pass it back to Kenny, a bit put off by the sudden change in his priorities.

"Yeah." He pauses to finish reading the paper, then looks back at me. "Here…finish this one: 'I'm better than most people at…'"

I sigh in resignation; this is silly but I play along; the combination of caffeine and dopamine dancing my brain means I'd probably do anything for this boy right now. "Well…I guess I could say Karate. I'm a brown belt. So there. Your turn. You answer it."

"I guess…I'm better than most people at playing guitar." I smile. Okay, this is actually fun when it isn't forced on us by Mr. M'kay Mackey. I grab the paper, scanning for a good one.

"Okay. Finish this. 'I never…'"

Kenny laughs. "I never wake up on time."

I look down at my skirt and knee socks. "I never wear pants." We both realize what I've said at the same time, and break into laughter. I pass the sheet back to Kenny again.

"Why don't you tell me 'Two Truths and a Lie' now?"

I throw my head back and sigh in mock exasperation. "Fine." I look at him and think. "Okay. I'm going to chiropractic school after I graduate, I have a Thanatos tattoo on my lower back, I was born in a convent in Scotland."

"Well, you'd better show me the tattoo and give me a back rub, because there's no way-"

"Actually, the tattoo was the lie. I want it, I just haven't gotten around to it yet. But yeah, I'll give you a back rub…but you do know a chiropractor is totally different from a massage therapist…right?"

Kenny looks at me with wide eyes. "A convent? Really?"

I sigh. "Yes. A real convent. Do you really want to hear this?" He nods, never taking his eyes from mine. "Okay. I was born in a convent in Scotland. In Dumfries, to be exact. I was the product of a 40-year old married Irish woman. I was not the product of she and her husband. See where this is going? The conservative family sent her to a convent to deliver the baby, me, and made up some story about an illness, to avoid a scandal. Reputation, you know? I lived there until I was almost four years old. When my parents came to adopt me, I thought they were aliens. Until that day, I guess I assumed that everyone on Earth was either a nun or a priest. It took me a while to adjust to life in the States. I remember everything being…average. We lived in an average town, in an average house, and had an average lifestyle. It was gloriously average, until both my parents died in a car accident when I was eight. CPS put me in foster care, and I was only there a month when my biological half-brother, then 26, showed up from overseas, demanding legal guardianship. After all the legal stuff was complete, we moved to Alaska of all places and stayed there until he got a job in Portland. And then right before my eighteenth birthday, he died. The day I turned eighteen, I took possession of…an inheritance, and after I graduated I moved here. I came here because it sounded quaint and easy…I'm kind of under the impression that that may not be the case." I smile. "And honestly, I'm kind of surprised I shared all that…that must be the most fucked-up thing you've ever heard." It's official. I'm possessed, or obsessed, or some other word that may or may not rhyme but means "this guy is like a drug, like some mix of ecstasy and truth serum."

"Remind me someday to tell you the story of Cartman's paternity. Now there is a fucked-up story." Kenny squeezes my hand. It startles me; I can't remember how we got back to holding hands.

"Why am I not surprised?" Nothing about Cartman could be anything less than fucked-up.

"How did he…your brother…?"

"Overdose." The one-word answer is enough. He pulls me closer; I close my eyes. It's the first time I've said those words aloud to anyone who wasn't a doctor or a lawyer or funeral director or some other suit who made it his official business to know how Malcolm died.

"So…Thanatos. The personification of death…the death drive." I wonder for a moment at how I'm able to keep up with Kenny's constant changing of subjects, but the thought is laughable at best; I'm absolutely guilty of the same exact thing. I'm not entirely surprised he gets the reference; I know he's taking philosophy and psychology classes. "Yeah. I mean, I guess I have a dark side, but…I'm fascinated. At this point, it's almost like…death defines me. I have no idea who I really am. Anybody who ever had a real clue is gone. Like, permanently." I ache to change the subject, so I say nothing. I'll leave it to Kenny to move the conversation in another direction.

His face gets serious. "I wrote my college entrance essay about the effects that death can have on a child." I raise my eyebrows; Kenny smiles. "It's, ah…well, I mean, I got in, didn't I?"

College entrance essay? Suddenly, all I want is to get into his head, to learn things that he hasn't yet told me, and I'm impatient. I give my head a slight shake, willing myself to live in this moment. "You next, " I say, trying to clear my mind of the thoughts that are assaulting me. "Tell me about growing up in South Park."

Kenny leans back on his elbows and looks out and up at the sky. "Well, I know Cartman's fat ass likes to make fun and call me "trailer boy" but…" He trails off and ends with a shrug. "The funny thing is, I've never even lived in a trailer. Honestly, my family was probably too broke to even own one." I turn toward him a bit and watch his face as he speaks. He takes a breath and continues.

"Growing up, my family had nothing. I mean…nothing. We lived on food stamps and the occasional cash my dad made doing some odd job because he never had a regular one. As a kid, I used to take fucked-up dares for even just a dollar. I never knew anything else, never have known anything else, so yeah, being ridiculed all the time sucked but I never really bothered to compare myself to my friends or anything. I was a happy kid when my drunk-ass parents weren't fighting, even though I did get sick a lot. Then when my dad ran off with a Raisins girl three years ago, I kind of had to take over. My brother Kevin landed himself in jail and my little sister practically lives with her boyfriend—he's practically twice her age. So now…yeah, it's not much easier. I work part-time at the bookstore, but I give all my money to my mom. She cleaned up when my dad left; she's trying to get through cosmetology school. She's basically still just a kid. She was fourteen—fourteen when she had my brother, and got stuck with my dad. She was seventeen when she had me, and then Karen, my sister, came right after. It's like…not too late for her to start over at all." He glances at me, as if to gauge my reaction, flicking his eyes immediately back to the sky. When I don't say anything, he turns toward me completely. I don't know if I'm shocked or sad for him or just happy to be here. Or just thankful that for once, I don't feel like my strange upbringing automatically makes me a freak. A thousand different emotions well up inside me until I let loose an outburst of laughter. It's completely inappropriate, but I can't help it. It seems like ages pass before Kenny starts to laugh with me, and even though nothing was really funny, I get the feeling that we both "get it."

When my hysterics calm, I let out a shuddering sigh. I close the distance between us once more, and rest my head on his shoulder. I don't want this night to end, but it must be really late by now, and I'm starting to freeze.

"Ren, you're shivering. Here, take this." Kenny starts to remove his parka.

"No! Then you'll freeze! I'm fine," I respond. His offer reminds me that I still have a new parka for him in my car. "But…"

"You still don't have a home tonight, do you?"

"Ah, no. I have a car though," I say, half joking. Hell, at least it has heat.

"I have an idea, but…" He shakes his head as if to clear a thought. "Don't be silly. Let's go to my place. It's probably not even as fancy as the dorm, but it beats a car."

-XXX-

Kenny's house is a shabby-yet-clean two-story rental on the outskirts of South Park. In the dark I can see the identical homes on either side, their lawns littered with barbeque pits, children's toys, and random junk. I make sure to grab the Patagonia bag from my trunk before locking my car.

"Okay, follow me and try to be quiet. It's late so I don't want to turn any lights on - don't let go of my hand." We creep up the stairs, me silent-laughing at the ridiculous situation. Well, it's ridiculous to me for some reason; I feel stupidly happy and I'm not sure I should be quite so amused. We walk up carpeted stairs; it's some bad early-80s shag that looks okay but it isn't anything I would want to sit on or touch with my bare feet. We enter a room at the end of the hallway, and he closes the door, letting go of my hand to cross the room and flip on a lamp. His floor is weatherbeaten-looking hardwood, clean but in need of finishing. I can still see the small holes left behind by what I assume were staples holding down carpet; the mental image of him ripping up carpet to expose the wood floor makes me feel an odd breed of spastic excitement. I bend down to remove my boots and sit the bag on the floor by the dresser.

"What's in the bag?" I try to play innocent, but my giddy smile ruins that façade. I hold it out, trying to contain my excitement.

"Well, everyone went crazy shopping today…you didn't get to go, so…yeah." I suddenly feel shy. My smile falters as I remember Butters' words. Please don't let him take this the wrong way.

"Is this a…oh, my God…" he sits on the bed, admiring the new parka. I can't tell anything from his facial expression, so I try to make him laugh.

"I mean…orange isn't really your color…" I bite my tongue and wait. I'm rewarded with a half-laugh.

"Why…why are you so nice to me?"

I cock my head and study him for a moment, before crossing the room, extinguishing the lamp on the way. When I reach the bed, I put my hands on his shoulders and lean over so my face is inches from his. "Isn't that obvious?"

Without answering, and before I can form another thought, Kenny pulls me up and onto the bed. I find myself lying on my back, looking up through the darkness into his big blue eyes. He reaches up and brushes a lock of hair away from my face, letting his hand trace my cheek and then my neck before it falls to rest on my shoulder. He is on his hands and knees in such a way that this is the only place our bodies touch. I long to reach up and pull him down to me, bring us together in full-body contact, but I stay still until he leans down and touches his lips to mine. With that gentlest of touches, I get greedy; I wrap my arms around him and pull him closer, not wanting to feel the space between us anymore. He smells like outside and peppermint gum and some spicy boy cologne I can't identify. Our kiss deepens as I run a hand up and down his back, lifting his shirt so that I can touch bare skin. He breaks away for a moment to take it off entirely, and I use the time to discard my sweater, leaving only my camisole and bra. When our bodies meet again, I'm dizzy with desire. I reach up and tangle my hands in his hair, returning his hungry kiss. Feeling audacious, I reach down to unbutton his jeans. Before I can succeed, though, he takes my hand and twines his fingers with mine as he moves it to a place somewhere north of my head. He grabs my other hand and pins me to the bed so I'm trapped. My sigh of pleasure becomes a sound of surprise as he breaks the kiss and sits up so he is looking down at me.

"Hey," I start. "What's wrong?" Fuck. The stupidest question in the world, again.

Kenny runs his hands through his hair and looks down, then back at me. He moves so that his back is against the wall and offers me his hand; I take it and he pulls me into a sitting position. I wrap the blanket around my shoulders to stave off the chill I feel now that we are no longer pressed together. "Nothing's wrong. Everything is…perfect. I just…" He sighs. "I used to be…I used to pretty much sleep with anybody I could find. Guy, girl, didn't matter. I was just in a bad place, I guess, and…well, as I'm sure you've heard, I was known as kind of the male slut of South Park." I start to understand. Once again I remember Wendy's words at Bennigan's, and it begins to make sense. Kenny continues. "I just…I don't want this to be like that. I put all that behind me, and the last thing I want is for you to think that I'm still that person. This isn't just…that to me, you know?"

As wrong as it is, I can't help but feel even more attracted to him as he staggers through his speech. I take a breath to calm myself; what he is saying is probably the sweetest thing any guy has ever said to me, but my body hasn't caught up with that yet. I'm not sure I trust myself with words right now, so I just reach out and pull Kenny into a hug. At first he stiffens, but then relaxes in my arms as if he understands my response. As much as I don't want to let go of his embrace, I'm exhausted. I stretch out on the bed, tugging Kenny's hand in a "lie down with me" gesture. The last thing I remember before giving in to sleep is his lips on my forehead and his voice whispering something I can't quite make out.

-XXX-

Black hair streaked with grey, a spilled glass of red wine, the lingering odor of cigarettes as his hand spiders across my face. I refuse to cry, pretending instead to sleep. Fiona whines insistently from her bed in the corner and I ache to comfort her, but this time, I won't let on that I'm awake. I count my breaths, making sure to exhale a few counts longer than I inhale. This won't go on forever…

I open my eyes in a panic, unsure where I am. The dream surrounds me; I almost expect to see my old dresser across from the bed and Fiona in her corner. When I look to my left, I see Kenny, face obscured by the pillow, and remember. I sigh with relief, but it is short-lived. I have to pee, and I have no idea where the hell the bathroom is. I climb over him carefully, praying that he won't wake up. He murmurs something unintelligible and rolls over, sprawling across the whole bed. Great. The window is still dark; a glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand tells me it is just after 5:00. Once again, I've only been asleep a short time. I pull the door open as quietly as I can, and feel my way into the hallway. My eyes are fairly adjusted to the darkness, and I see an open doorway across the hall and to the left. As I get closer, I see that it is, indeed, a bathroom. I flick the light switch on and close the door behind me.

A scratching sound startles me, and I open the door again, craning my head around to listen. A full minute goes by and the house remains silent. I must be hearing things. I turn to the sink to wash my hands and get a look at myself in the mirror. I have an epic case of "I-just-got-laid" hair, which is funny, since I didn't. I run my hands through it, trying to free the tangles, but I'm met with resistance. I lean over the sink so that I can get a closer look.

Oh, I am going to kill him.

Embedded in my hair, about six inches from my scalp, is a blue mass that is unmistakably peppermint gum. About one-quarter of my hair, one entire side of my head, is tangled up in it. In my half-asleep, sleep-deprived state of mind, I see only one solution. I grab a pair of scissors from the counter and poise them at the ready. I'm pretty sure if I wasn't half asleep and hung over on hormones and dopamine I would not be so okay with this, but I just shrug at my reflection. Unable to watch myself cut off about 18 inches of hair, I close my eyes. It's only hair. It'll grow back. I take a breath and squeeze my eyes tighter, ready to go, when a hand grabs mine. My eyes fly open and I get a glimpse of a tattooed wrist. I drop the scissors and turn to face whoever just stopped me from my impromptu haircut.

The girl before me is dressed in leggings and a red Old 97s baby tee. She is skinny but has a nice set of breasts, and if she is taller than me, it is only because of the two inches added by her black sequin flip-flops. Her red hair is a more orange shade than mine, and it only comes to her shoulders. Short bangs frame perfectly-shaped eyebrows. Her face looks young, but it's an aged young, like she has been through a lot and seen even more. She looks at me with eyes I can only describe as navy blue diluted with mint green, and finally speaks.

"I can only guess how that got there, but I know for sure I can get it out without you losing any of that hair." I'm speechless and confused. "I'm guessing you're Ren, then?" I nod stupidly. She smiles and holds up a finger in a "wait a second" gesture, then turns and walks down the hallway. I turn my back to the sink and lean against it, thinking. This must be Kenny's sister Karen. He mentioned that she practically lived with some guy but didn't really say whether she still stayed here or not. Oh, well.

She returns, toting a jar of generic peanut butter. I look at it suspiciously, wondering what the hell I've gotten myself into. She lets out a soft laugh.

"Trust me." Karen opens the jar and scoops out a small handful of the goopy stuff, and applies it to the wad of gum in my hair. I can't believe my eyes when it starts to just…liquefy and slip right out of the tangles. She repeats this process a few times until the gum is all out, and then closes the jar. I stand rooted to the spot, open-mouthed. "Here, let's rinse that out." She points to the bathtub and I kneel in front of it as she starts the water. I can't help but laugh at the whole situation; as awkward as I feel right now, everything is just too funny. Karen starts to laugh, too, as I bend my head under the stream of water. She stands behind me and leans over to grab the shampoo. I'm enjoying the silly girl-bonding moment; we are a tangle of legs and arms and I'm blinded by my mess of wet, peanut-butter soaked hair. I laugh even harder when I move a wet clump of strands out of the way of my right eye and open it to see Kenny standing in the doorway with a befuddled look on his face. He watches for a moment before speaking.

"Ren? Mom? What are you doing?"

End note: Ha-ha, sort of a cliffhanger, but yeah. Lots of fluff here, but I need to pick up the action so the next few chapters will be full of it. Really. And I know the title is crazy since it isn't really a Friday, but yeah.