Chapter 14

It was pitch black with a few snores, mostly from the sage, in the background. Wolfram was still in the bed with the double black—legs wrapped around Yuuri's waist and arms resting on his shoulders, slender fingers laced together behind a warm neck. Wolfram's soft sobs had disappeared five minutes ago. But he continued to hold on with his cheek resting lightly against Yuuri's. It was a comfort.

"I'm glad you agree, Maou," Wolfram whispered to him. "It's a relief, actually…" His body relaxed a little and Yuuri turned to look at him. The room was dark. He didn't know why he did it. It just seemed natural to want to look at him. Instead of a silhouette catching his eye, it was his nose that brought his attention to something—light perfume. The scent, which was a mixture of shampoo, sandalwood soap, and a soft, male musk, made him want to hold onto Wolfram even more.

Wolfram could feel wide palms caressing his back. The blond smiled, casting his mind back to another time when he felt wanted, desired. "I had only one other lover in my life. She'd make promises to me, many of them—like this—alone in the dark, but they never really happened in the cold light of dawn." He shrugged a little awkwardly at the end, as though it had been his fault. Maybe, it was.

Yuuri's eyes widened. Was this how lovers spoke to each other? Did they share their histories? When he thought of "lovers," the only thing that came to mind was sex: bring on the hearts and flowers, grind into each other, pant a lot, and take a bath afterwards. Rinse. Lather. Repeat.

"She promised a lot…and pursued me…until I accepted her feelings…"

Yuuri bit the inside of his cheek. He had to stop himself from saying something—and revealing that he was, indeed, himself and not The Maou. Some part of him kept wondering if The Maou would come out and spoil everything. Another part knew that Wolfram would be crushed beyond all hope, feeling duped, if he knew the truth—that he was confessing all of this to Yuuri. Now, unlike the times when The Maou took over, he would remember every word. But, somewhere inside of him, the double black could tell that The Maou was listening, and he was giving him a chance to make a decision about their future—one with the blond and one without it. Wolfram, nevertheless, had his own plan in mind. But it was too horrible for Yuuri to accept. So, as usual, he chose to ignore it.

He tucked a blond head under his chin. Yuuri's mouth was a thin line now. He had to admit to himself that it was more than just The Maou or even the fact that the three of them wanted different things. He had expected Wolfram to have always been alone. At least, that was the impression he got from Wolfram's reputation as an immature, loud-mouthed brat. But, reflecting on it now, it seemed ridiculous to assume that someone as beautiful as Wolfram would be without a lover. Even now, in this battered and beaten form, nobles and commoners alike would probably crawl over each other to be with him.

"She was like that…" he mused, his dull, green eyes turning to the past. "Of course, we buried Tasha two days after the humans raided her cousin's castle, chased her down…stabbing her with swords all the way… They killed her in the garden. Though, the humans didn't want it to be a quick death because they thought a woman would be easy prey. They were wrong about her…so very…very…wrong…" He tried not to sigh because it had been over and done with long ago. He told himself that it didn't hurt anymore. He didn't know at the time. Nobody did. The bold attack was a total surprise and shocked all of Shin Makoku. But, sometimes, in the inky-blue early summer mornings, Wolfram could almost hear her calling his name in that shrill voice—nagging him to go to the farmer's market with her, to go shopping for vegetables. She'd promise to buy something that he would be willing to eat for dinner, and she'd promise that wrapping his arm around her waist along the way wouldn't get him anywhere, no lovemaking for him—not at all. With an unenthusiastic shrug, he'd go along because being with her kept the suitors at bay, and because it was better than being alone. Plus, Wolfram remembered with a sad smile, Tasha's promises never panned out. She'd just make new ones to replace the ones she'd easily broken. But, a beautiful girl can do that… And we never really forget our 'first,' do we?

"Even knowing that it was hopeless, she didn't go down without a fight." His voice had a thread of pride in it when he said the words. "She kept her honor as a von Dauer, fought to the last drop of her blood, and took three of them with her to the afterlife—thanks to her earth wielding."

This happened to the person Wolfram was with? Yuuri didn't know what to think. In all the years they'd been together, Wolfram never spoke of his past—especially one like this. And the way Tasha died, while Wolfram respected it, sounded absolutely horrific.

"…Of course, all of that happened four years before Yuuri came…before you came…to us, Maou." Pale fingers stroked Yuuri's cheek, almost worshipping the face. The skin was smooth, flawless, soft… "Forgive me," Wolfram said in a gentle tone, caressing the neck and the shoulder down. "I've been alone for so long, I've almost forgotten what it's like to hold someone this way."

He found Yuuri's hand and clutched it. "You know…" the blond said quietly, "after all of that, and with Tasha gone…Mother didn't wait long to 'encourage' me to see other people…in that flirty way. You know how she is… When I tried to ignore it, she began to tease me—saying that I was what 'all of the handsome men wanted.' The truth is, I think Mother believed that I could never replace Tasha in my heart. So, instead, I should just pursue the other gender. And it wasn't like some of them didn't notice me from the start." Wolfram chuckled a little at that. It was so stupid now that he said it out loud. "The truth is, I never had an interest in any man—in anyone—until Yuuri took over as king. And, even then, it was not love at first sight." Wolfram rested his head against Yuuri's shoulder. The double black could feel his breath in light puffs. "I'm not very trusting, I suppose…" That admission was slightly embarrassing no matter how honest it was. Hiding a little, he smiled wryly into Yuui's warm neck and then pressed his lips there. "I remember overhearing Gwendal once talking to Conrad about me. He said that I 'trusted rarely and never completely.' And, maybe, that is true…"

Yuuri could feel the blond shift against him and a soft kiss tickled behind his ear. He closed his eyes, drinking the sensation in.

"So, I apologize for the times you've told me that you've wanted me…but I was not…" His voice trailed away when the sage snorted a bit in his sleep, woke up a little, flopped down and pulled the blanket over his head. The blond wanted to laugh at that. Murata now seemed to be a mummy—all wrapped up in the bed covers.

"But, I was not…" He cocked his head at the shadowy figure before him. "…Maybe, I'm still not…" he said almost to himself. Wolfram took the sharp edge of the double black's chin and turned the face completely toward him. "I know that you've said you want me…and I am yours… But, please, think about it again," Wolfram urged quietly. Even without seeing the details of his face, the blond could tell it was unmoving in his hand. And the stare made him a little nervous. He let go and lowered his head. "Are you certain you still desire someone as imperfect…as guarded on the inside… as I am? You could still walk away…and be free of me. It's an offer I never gave Yuuri."

A hand touched the blond's chin, tilting the face up. Their lips drew nearer. "I'm 'Little Lord Brat' and I have a temper." The tone was sad, but also rich, sensuous. Wolfram said, "I could give you passion to match your own…or make your life a living Hell. Don't let this pretty blond thing you brought back from the edge of death fool you…force you …to be by his side."

Wolfram waited a beat to see if the Maou would leave him. He half expected him to. But that was his nature now that his soul had been chipped and splintered, and he'd just given The Demon King a way out of this mess by making himself sound unappealing…by repeating the things that others were always saying about him.

Wolfram could almost see eyes shining. Tears? Never. This was the king, the monarch… of Shin Makoku. It was a mistake…a trick of shadows, of the dark.

The soft lips were there, hovering before him. Wolfram bridged the small gap and gave a gentle kiss but then reminded himself that a new lover would probably hunger for something more, something passionate. He could certainly comply with that. In the next second, Wolfram gently bit down on Yuuri's lower lip—which got him a very pleasurable gasp—followed by a heated kiss that melted the double black to the core. Even when trying to be quiet, Wolfram could make some delicious sounds. And the blond felt, with a touch of pride, the strong form in his arms kissing him in return with a hum of pleasure.

The make out was fun, but not nearly long enough. Still, the blond was certain that he pleased The Maou with his performance—especially when the king grabbed a fist-full of blond hair, tilted the head to the side, and ravaged the neck. Wolfram made a mental note that The Maou liked it when he took his open palm, pressed it to his lips, and kissed openly with a flick of the tongue. It was just a hunch that he'd have sensitive palms—most water wielders did.

Before things got out of hand, though, Wolfram could feel The Maou placing a finger against his lips with a low "Shush." Wolfram decided that he was right, of course. They weren't alone, after all. And he would be dead, mortified beyond all recognition, should his older brother or the sage catch him at this.

Wolfram was back to resting his cheek on Yuuri's shoulder and he was half dozing now. Yuuri could just imagine the cute image of the blond snoozing against him with pinkish well-kissed lips open slightly. And the little snorts told him that the blond was well on his way to the usual "kick boxing" kind of sleep that the Mazoku was famous for.

I can't believe I'm doing this, Yuuri thought while stroking blond hair. Worse yet, I'm content.

"Wolfram?" Yuuri whispered.

"Hm?" The blond groaned back sleepily. He hugged his maou like a teddy bear. He would not let this dream embrace leave him so easily. Who knew when he'd get The Maou back?

The double black's hand pulled the rest of the covers down a little.

"Lie down," he ordered in a harsh whisper.

Wolfram unwrapped his legs from around Yuuri's waist and crawled to the second pillow. "Of course, Maou," he said with a yawn coming to him. "Sleep next to me?"

"Not tonight."

"I understand. Just let me know should you need anything." The blond yawned again, but managed to cover it with his right hand. "You're always welcome in my…I mean 'our'… bed at the castle."

Inside of Yuuri, he could feel The Maou stir a little. He seemed pleased but not entirely satisfied, almost suspicious of Yuuri. Yuuri shook his head at that and started to move away when a hand trapped his, holding it tightly. It caught him off guard.

"W-Wolfram?" Yuuri tried to say it in a deeper tone to match The Maou.

"I was just thinking…" he began hesitantly, trying not to make his new lover angry.

"Well…?"

"I think… tomorrow could be difficult for Yuuri…if something goes wrong at the shrine." The words were still tired, but it seemed that the blond was awake enough to say what was on his mind. He rubbed his eye sleepily. "Please don't be angry with me for saying that. No disrespect intended."

He stroked Yuuri's hand softly with his thumb.

The double black shook his head at Wolfram's words. Absolutely nothing was going to go wrong at the shrine. Tra'va was leaving for good, and he'd be overjoyed with that.

"Keep Yuuri company, okay?" Wolfram asked kindly, pulling the covers around himself with his other hand. "If the worst happens, he'll probably miss me a little…but not the same way that I missed Tasha."

Not the same way as a lover…

The double black felt a sincere squeeze of his hand. "I'm one of your soldiers. And it's a comfort to know that I will probably die before you, Maou. So, I'll never know a future without you in it." Then, just as quickly, the hand was released. He murmured, "I couldn't live through that a second time."

Yuuri crawled into his own bed and flung the edge of the covers onto himself. What Wolfram just said was painful. And it was just too much to think about right now. Instead, he would focus on the next few hours. He told himself that they were going home—all of them—to Blood Pledge Castle. He'd do everything in his power to make it happen. Following that, he had plans for a new project. Yuuri wanted to work on something—together—that Wolfram claimed he wasn't good at—trust.

The double black turned to watch Wolfram snoozing in the bed next to him.

A part of him felt lonely and wanted the blond in his arms; to take Wolfram up on that offer to sleep next to each other. They'd done it so many times over the years. But, that offer was given to The Maou, not him.

The silhouette turned and flopped—a pale hand draped over the edge of the bed. Yuuri reached out and took hold. Instinctively, the thin fingers wrapped around his.

"M-Maou…" A sleepy sigh followed it up with a soft snore.

Yuuri let go, feeling a little heart sore at it.

Then, Yuuri tugged at the "sage is-still-wrapped-up-tight-as-a-mummy" blankets and fought for his share of them because a small corner just wasn't enough. But, pull as he might, he knew that it was a lost cause.

Once again, Yuuri couldn't sleep. And, once again, it was his own fault.

"I feel sick," Wolfram admitted reluctantly. "It's not like being onboard a ship…in open waters… It's worse." He was lying back in the bed with his right arm bent, shielding his eyes. Maybe, if he pretended to be seasick, he might actually feel better than what he was right at the moment.

"Wolfram?" Conrad said, approaching the bed without his trademark smile. He sat on the edge, as close as possible to his little brother. In a way, it felt like the old days when Wolfram was very young and still depended on him for everything. "Then, tell me where it hurts. Is it a stomach ache? You didn't eat anything last night, remember?" A large, gentle hand stroked back strands of blond hair.

Boy, that sounded childish and condescending! Wolfram's mouth pruned up at the words. And he refused to answer.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the room. Both Murata and Yuuri sweat dropped at the narrow looks that Conrad was giving Wolfram. And, when Yuuri really thought about it, Conrad could be quite scary when there was something he needed to know and he was determined to hear about it right now.

"Look at me," Conrad said in a deeper tone. "Explain." He leaned in with serious brown eyes.

Yozak suddenly decided to watch a wolf spider scuttle across the ceiling.

"As I said, I feel sick…but… It's not just that," the blond answered distractedly. Tra'va had been whispering to him in his head while Conrad was talking. Try as he might, he just couldn't have two conversations at once.

"What, then?" Yuuri said, joining in.

Wolfram removed his arm long enough to give Yuuri a tired glare and, with a slight moan, flopped the arm over his eyes again to block out the light.

"Wolfram?" Conrad said in a tone that edged on anger.

The blond opened his mouth and then shut it again. He shook his head no. "I'm not a wimp. I can handle this."

"We never said you couldn't," Yuuuri countered. "So, tell us."

The blond huffed a little with annoyance, but decided to give the laundry list of symptoms—if only to get them off his back. "Last night, I got muscle cramps. Now, I don't feel very strong…like it takes effort to move. Dizzy. My stomach's upset." Wolfram had to stop there for a second. Just talking about his nausea made him want to dry heave.

"You could be pregnant," the sage joked, buttoning down the white shirt he was changing into before this conversation started.

"Sure I am," Wolfram shot back with venom, "and you're the father. Don't you remember that night of passion you showed me?" He moved the arm from his glassy eyes and stared at Murata evenly. But then his face broke into a cruel grin. "Sage or not, you do realize what Gwendal is going to do to you for knocking me up? Right?" He imagined various tortures in his head that involved whips, chains, and the odd turnip.

Wait! Did Trouble…and Murata find time to actually…? Yuuri gave a worried glance to his godfather. "Men in this world can't have…babies…can they?"

Wolfram's retort was a snort.

Yozak's eyes bulged at Yuuri.

Conrad laughed openly, letting go of the frustration that he was feeling for Wolfram. He shook his head "no." But a brotherly part of him decided to remember this and to have a quiet word with Günter about making Yuuri take "Mazoku Sex Ed 101" studies in the next few weeks. It would be quite embarrassing if the kingdom found out that Yuuri entertained the thought, if even for one second, that men could conceive and expel an infant from some sort of unnamed orifice. But, still, the expression on Yuuri's face was priceless.

Murata grinned widely and nervously. "If he feels well enough to joke with me…"

"And I'm too warm…almost burning," Wolfram interrupted. "On the inside, I mean. I'm uncomfortable. And that's saying a lot coming from a fire wielder." Wolfram lifted a hand. "I feel really warm…from here…to here…" Wolfram ran his fingers down the buttons on the center of his pajama top.

No! Losing all mirth, Yozak quickly sidestepped Yuuri and stood at the foot of the bed. His face drained of color. "Did you just say that you're 'burning…inside'?"

He got a nod.

The orange haired man could feel his heart picking up speed, and he had a flash of memory—going back to what Tra'va had told him when she handed him the dagger. His worried sky blue eyes fell on Conrad. Yes, they had discussed what to do if Wolfram should start showing signs like this. Yozak saw the pain in Conrad's eyes and bit down on his lower lip.

The sage, sensing something between them said, "von Bielefeld, I'm going to do something that will really annoy you. For your sake, tolerate it…and don't set me on fire."

Dull green eyes blinked up at him innocently.

Before he knew it, Wolfram found the buttons on his pajama top unfastened and pushed back—exposing his bare chest to the cool air. Having everyone gawk at him for a second made him want to squirm under their stares. Unceremoniously, the sage had his hands pressed against Wolfram's sternum with a very serious expression.

"He's hot," Murata said.

Wolfram lifted his head up to see what was going on only to have the sage place a hand over his face and push his whole head back down onto the pillow. The blond made a cute little "ufff" sound.

Hot? Yuuri'd heard that line before when topless Tra'va had been smooching with the sage. He folded his arms. "Stop being pervy. Joke time's over," Yuuri grumbled and was half inclined to shove Murata away from Wolfram.

The sage's mouth formed a deeper frown. "That's not it, Shibuya. I'm saying that his skin is warm…really, really warm." He glanced at Yuuri with annoyance. Strike up another one for Captain Clueless. I guess, I'll have to demonstrate. "He's like a furnace." The sage took Yuuri's hand in his and pressed the open palm against Wolfram's skin. The blond blushed at the wonderfully cool sensations, and turned his face away. He told himself that the only reason why he'd allow Yuuri's hand on him was because The Maou was inside Yuuri—somewhere.

Searching, the double black moved his hand all over Wolfram's chest, making him blush even deeper. Murata did it, too. And the blond felt both nauseous and, oddly, a little turned on—not that he would have ever admitted it. Tra'va, still weak, was clearly enjoying the attention even though she shared the others' concerns.

"It just seems to be this area…here…" Murata said, feeling the heat radiate, and then he leaned over Wolfram's face. "His face is bright pink, too."

"That can't be good," Yuuri worried, off to the side. "Maybe, I should try to heal him again."

"Do you think it would work?" Conrad asked.

"And if it doesn't…?" Murata wondered out loud. It was insensitive, he knew, but he had to explore every possibility.

"Hold still, Wolfram." Yuuri extended a hand over Wolfram's sternum and concentrated. A few seconds ticked by and then a green glow came to his hand. He closed his eyes in concentration and could feel The Maou taking over his hand and channeling power trough it.

The blond shifted in the bed. "Don't bother," Wolfram grumbled. "It's just a waste. Nothing's happening." Then, his gaze drifted to Yozak. The spy almost flinched at it but, instead, smoothed out his face.

"We could get some ice," Yozak suggested, now feeling restless as well as useless. "In fact, I'll go get some." He got a quick nod from Conrad. Then, thankfully, he left the room in search of it—that "third wheel" vibe getting the better of him. And he still had Wolfram's dagger in his possession. He knew what Tra'va's plans were if the worst should happen. He shook that thought out of his head. To be Wolfram's killer, no matter how merciful it might be, would ostracize him from the others and force Conrad to duel him to the death out of honor. Plus, to kill someone as beautiful as Wolfram, the person he'd just gotten to know—

Yozak's heavy footsteps made for the door. Conrad watched. He could see the turmoil on the handsome face as the door closed. And there was no way he'd allow Wolfram to die by his close friend's hand. It would change him forever. Worse yet, it would change them forever.

Murata's black eyes looked into green ones. "I want to speak to Tra'va."

Wolfram stared back, wondering whether he should try to coax the spirit out or not. He wasn't as angry at Murata anymore. And the sage's concern seemed legitimate. But, still… With anger and resentment, letting go was hard. What if Murata tried to trick him again only to side with Yuuri in the end? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

"Why?" he asked.

Murata rolled his eyes. This would take too long. He should have known better than to try to go through Wolfram. "Tra'va?" he said sternly, ignoring the deep frown that was forming between the blond's eyebrows. "Come to me."

Wolfram's eyes blinked and in the flash of a second, the green irises had dark pink edges to them. The color slowly faded in the left eye to a revolting shade of green mixed with hot pink. The other eye was dull green.

"Sorry," Wolfram's voice whispered. "This is the best I can do." The pale hand reached for Murata's and he gladly took it. "I'm not the woman I once was." She chuckled a little at her own joke, knowing that nobody else found it funny but her. Still, she was satisfied with that because the only opinion she ever truly cared about was her own—hosts and husbands came a distant second and third. At least, that was the lie that she told herself.

"I need to know," the sage said to her, trying to keep his tone even, "are we entering the final stages? Will Wolfram…will you… die if we don't find the shrine soon?"

"I'm already dead, remember?" She winked at him. He needed to lighten up in her opinion. His black eyes, hiding traces of desperation, unnerved her on the inside.

The sage let go of her hand and folded his arms defensively. "You know what I mean."

"Why don't we let Wolfram sleep for an hour longer? He'll feel better if we do," Yuuri suggested, longing to stroke back the damp, blond hair—even if Trouble was the one in control of Wolfram's body at the moment.

"It's what I was thinking, too," Conrad said, actually doing it.

A bead of sweat slowly made its way down, close to Wolfram's ear.

"But it's a bad idea," Tra'va said. "He'll only feel worse in an hour. And, even now, he may have trouble riding a horse. I've been holding off these symptoms for hours. It's only now that Wolfram feels it because, I'm…well…tired."

The double black's eyes grew large. "Then, let's go!" With determination, Yuuri reached under his bed for Morgif, blew all of the conga dancing dust bunnies off with a single blow, and shined the scabbard a little with his sleeve. He began to arrange his things, getting himself organized, while the others watched him.

"I agree," Trouble chuckled, letting her eyes linger on him with a calm expression.

Yuuri, fastened Morgif to his hip and glanced over at Wolfram's bed. Tra'va was still looking at him with the ugliest left eye he'd ever seen—the pink and green merged together in unappealing swirls now. He tried not to let the revulsion show.

The eyes stared.

"What?" Yuuri said, patting himself down and touching his face. "Do I have something on me? It's a strange look you're giving me." Well, strange in more ways than one…

"Some part of you really does care about Wolfram…a little bit. And that makes me happy." A thin smile followed.

Yuuri frowned at that. He said with a slight blush and a shrug, "It's more than just 'a little bit.'" He brushed the non-existent dust off of his shirt to give himself something to do. He was really feeling put out.

The smile then twitched on the blond's face. "But…it's not love, Yuuri." The head tilted to one side in almost morbid fascination. "You're fooling yourself, then, if you think otherwise."

"Am I?" His face darkened.

Eh? Onyx eyes behind glasses stared. Did Yuuri just admit to having some sort of feelings for Wolfram? Murata was also surprised to hear the resentment in Yuuri's tone.

Wolfram's voice said, "Concern is concern; love is love."

"With Wolfram… and me…it's complicated." Yuuri was trying not to lose his temper. He really was. How can she say that? Some part of her had to have been awake when I was kissing Wolfram last night. She had to have seen…watched through Wolfram's eyes. …Or did she think I was The Maou, too? But, still. He made an angry fist.

Murata looked back and forth—like at a tennis tournament. Obviously, Trouble was baiting Yuuri again. He could see it. But, he just couldn't understand why. At this time, Trouble should be quiet and reserving strength for the journey ahead.

"There's all kinds of love," he continued, taking a step towards the bed. Morgif moaned a soft agreement that really wasn't called for.

Murata realized that the double black was much more defensive than before. The aura of the room changed, too, as though calling upon some of The Maou's powers without actually realizing it.

"Yes, I should know," the fox spirit said. "I can read the hearts of everyone around me." The eyes grew hard, looking at Yuuri now. "But don't confuse love and concern. Or…you'll suffer for it."

That made Murata and Conrad stare. The room suddenly felt very uncomfortable and the temperature dropped—icy. They glanced at Yuuri to see what he'd do.

"Maybe so…" he said back with angry, moist eyes. "Maybe, that was the problem all along."

Wolfram's body relaxed on the bed a little. "It always was." Then, heaving a sigh and folding the arms sloppily across the chest, Tra'va added, "But The Maou really does love Wolfram…deeply. A pair bond."

Conrad's jaw dropped.

Murata pushed his glasses up on his nose smugly.

Inside of Yuuri, he could feel a begrudging acceptance of the fox spirit's words. As much as he didn't like her, he was big enough to admit when she was right. And, in his opinion, she was.

"So," Wolfram's voice went on with Trouble's words behind it all, "I won't be so hard on you like I was when we first met. I won't ask the impossible of you anymore. And I won't punish you for lacking something…something you simply have no capacity for giving. Loving Wolfram, and being in love with him…all of it is simply beyond your abilities." With a toss of the blond bangs, she added, "I think ending the engagement was smart on Wolfram's part. You just don't have the heart."

That was it! He lost his temper and felt the rage inside of him. Maybe, to some extent, it was easier because he was used to arguing with Wolfram back home. How dare she tell me how to feel! Yuuri trudged to the side of the bed, leaned over it, and took the blond face roughly in his hand—turning it fully to him. For a split second, both Murata and Conrad saw elements of The Maou in Yuuri's profile and form.

Tra'va turned the face away, jerking it out of his grasp. Nobody touched her unless she wished it.

"Listen, you!" he said, injecting the rude Japanese form of "you" into the sentence. That alone shocked the others. "We are going to pack you up and take you to that shrine of yours where I plan on saying 'goodbye' for good. Then, the rest of us are going back to the castle!" He leaned in closer. His eyes narrowed to sharp slits. "You can say anything you want to about me. It won't be a surprise to anybody by now…considering that mouth of yours. But, at the end of the day, Wolfram comes home with me. WITH! ME!"