The Human Stain: Chapter 10

And that road rolls out like a welcome mat
I don't know where it goes but it beats where we're at
We always said some day some how
Were gonna get away, gonna blow this town

-Emerson Drive, What About Now

They drove northeast on 93 the very next morning, towards the Hoover Dam. From there they would curl north, and drive the remaining leg of the journey. Before any of this occurred, Claire had convinced Smokescreen to stop by her house so she might pack a few things and grab her purse. He had reluctantly relented. There was a shared buzz between Miguel and Claire the whole while, something intangible but definitely detectable. Despite the grisly circumstances that had forced them into the impromptu road trip, there was an air of excitement that lifted their spirits. An adventure had begun to unfold, something that both paint store employees had been long denied. Their long, tedious days at Ashbury Paints had dulled their exteriors. It was only now that they felt rejuvenated, as if there had truly been a point to their seemingly pointless lives. Nothing seemed to be able to hold them back – until the thermometer climbed.

The sun glared down upon the world below with its usual intensity, heating up Subaru's two occupants. They had long since passed the Hoover Dam, and were nearing the Mission City limits. Both the driver and passenger side windows were all the way down, leaving it very difficult to communicate. Miguel had refused the air conditioning Smokescreen offered, leaving Claire on the verge of homicidal urges.

"I do not understand your refusal." Smokescreen's disembodied voice filled the car, which in turn made Miguel shudder. "…But if you will not take advantage of the air conditioning, it is of no consequence to me."

Claire shot Miguel a grouchy look while fanning her face with one hand. She had opted to take the driver's seat, but she wasn't steering the car. "It's 98 degrees outside. Could you please bag your marbles and think straight?"

Miguel shook his head and stuck his face further out the passenger-side window like a dog. "No way, Claire."

"But why?"

"It's… it's just… don't you see? It would be like him breathing on me for the entire ride."

The car fell silent.

Claire snickered. Soon, the tittering gave way to full-blown laughter. "Oh man, oh man," the woman chortled, wiping at corners of her eyes with a thumb. "That was rich. Got any other snippets of wisdom? I bet you do."

Miguel looked sullen.

"What else is there… oh, I suppose sitting in that seat right there qualifies as a massive hand cupping your butt too."

Both humans felt the Subaru's engine choke. It sputtered several times as if failing, caught itself, and then resumed its steady hum.

The tanned man gave the woman next to him a startled look, as if the thought hadn't yet crossed his mind. "Wh-what?!" he blustered. Miguel raised himself off the leather seat so that his back supported the full force of his weight. There was now a good three inches beneath him, enough to give him some small comfort from Claire's observation. One hand was braced on the car's center console, the other on the door.

Smokescreen was strangely silent, and Claire was enjoying herself immensely. Her sniggering had subsided, but one corner of her mouth was cocked into a half-grin.

"Did you know," she began innocently, "that touching the console here is like resting your hand on his thigh?"

Miguel ripped his hand away, but lost the support he needed to keep his body above the seat. He promptly plopped down upon the leather again, flinching as he did so.

Claire broke out into more howls of laughter.

Miguel's eyebrow twitched.

Smokescreen finally spoke. His voice was cool. "I understand your plight, Miguel."

Claire's coworker looked both uncomfortable and murderous. He leaned on one thigh closer to the window, and popped his head out again. The rush of the air whistling by his ears proved to lesson the peal of mirth from the huckster sitting beside him. He came to a conclusion not much later, and he stood by it one hundred percent. Real or not, women were terrible creatures.

"I would like to clarify one thing, however," Smokescreen said, continuing from where he had paused. His tone was level and calm, as if he were merely making a remark about the weather. "If any one of the two seats you are both occupying were in any way 'massive hands', I would find no joy out of 'cupping' the passenger side."

Miguel looked somewhat relieved, until the full weight of insinuation settled in the minds of both humans. Claire jerked like she had been stung like a bee. Gray eyes flicked to Miguel's brown ones, and the two shared their sudden knowledge in different ways.

Miguel looked triumphant; Claire looked trumped.

"PERVERT!"

The trio did not head for the heart of Mission City like Claire expected. They skimmed the outskirts, eventually ending up on a quiet suburban street before a two-story colonial home. They were in the town of Tranquility, an outlying suburb of Mission City. When Smokescreen eventually angled towards the curb and rolled to a stop, Miguel and Claire exchanged looks. It hardly seemed the place they had envisioned. Maybe a secret lair, a back alley or a desolate canyon – not Suburbia. A man in nothing but a brown bathrobe trotted out of one of the houses to retrieve the morning paper. He gave the Subaru a once-over as he made his trek, gave a low whistle, and then fiddled with the contents of his mailbox.

"You're kidding me," Claire muttered. She was sitting as straight as a board with her hands folded in her lap. Smokescreen's remark still ran through her mind, keeping her in a state of preserved alarm.

"…And why did we stop?" Miguel questioned pleasantly. He started humming to himself, feigning obliviousness to Claire's discomfort.

Smokescreen's voice floated up from somewhere ahead of them. If he was enjoying Claire's anxiety, his tone did not betray it. "Bumblebee is here."

Claire momentarily forgot her paranoia long enough to ask, "What is Bumblebee?"

"You shall see." The doors on either side of the car clicked and swung aside. Both humans took it as an indication to exit and did so. Claire appeared especially thankful to be out of the car, and was out before Miguel. The engine made a sound somewhere between a rattle and a purr.

"You had better not be laughing," Claire said accusingly.

"Never," Smokescreen replied.

Her eyes narrowed, and she turned away. Stupid, lecherous cars.

She blinked. Did she just think that? She shook her head. Never.

The man at the mailbox had long since returned to the confines of his home. The house right next to his, the one in whose shadow they stood, seemed in no way special.

Well, that is if you didn't count the sunny yellow Camaro sitting in the open garage. Not only was it a Camaro, it was a new Camaro.

Claire was getting yet another sneaking suspicion. "Let me guess, it's not what it appears to be."

The Subaru said nothing.

The door to the house opened then, and an awkward youth emerged. He had brown hair, large eyes and a gangly walk that carried him to them.

He held out his hand to Miguel first. "Hey. I'm Sam… Samuel James Witwicky. I was told you'd be coming."

Miguel shook the kid's hand, a bit lost. "Who… you knew?"

The teen did not get the chance to reply. A flurry of tiny feet and spastic yaps diverted the attention of all three humans, alarming them to the fact that a tiny dog garbed in a pink poncho was rapidly approaching.

"Oh, no, no, no!" Sam cried, pivoting around the tiny Chihuahua. The dog danced just out of his reach, making a mockery of the boy. "Bad, Mojo! Get inside!"

"Is that thing wearing a poncho?" Miguel said in disbelief.

Claire was watching the dog thoughtfully, and her mind wandered back to 1997. She couldn't help it – every time she saw a canine, even a cross-dressing one, she had flashbacks.

"Uh, yeah, my mom…" Sam said, attempting to explain while dodging for the dog. "It's really embarrassing, but she uh…" He faked a quick step to the left, which shifted the dog to the right. Lunging to the right, Sam snatched up his errant dog just in the nick of time. The Chihuahua was panting heavily, and Claire noticed that a collar of diamonds was fastened around its neck.

Ha, his dog has bling.

Mojo whimpered as if asking for forgiveness now that he was in Sam's arms. Sam shifted his hold on the dog, transferring it to the crook of his left elbow.

"So… your mom dresses your dog up?" Miguel asked awkwardly.

"Uh… yeah."

"Sorry, man."

"I've gotten used to it, I guess," Sam sighed. He stroked Mojo absently, then questioned it. "How did you get out?"

Mojo whined.

"Sam!" A voice rang across the front yard from the house. A balding, middle-aged man with a portly constitution was occupying the crack in a partially opened doorjamb. He was scanning the strangers in front of his house, confused by their presence. "Did you see Mojo? He got out the back when your mom opened the door to work in the garden." The man, presumably Sam's father, bumbled across the sidewalk and down the driveway while purposely avoiding the grass. "Who are they?"

Once the older man reached him, Sam handed the deviant dog off. "Uh, just friends."

Claire felt the man's eyes on her. "Just friends? Aren't they a little old?"

"Hey!" Claire cried, a bit taken aback.

"No, uh, they… went to my school. Three grades ahead of me. I'm just, uh… preparing for college!" He snapped his fingers in the air, creating a sharp sound. "Getting tips and all."

"That's my boy," Sam's father remarked approvingly. He readjusted Mojo against his plaid button-down shirt and held out a freehand to Miguel. "I'm Ron. Ron Witwicky, Sam's dad. Which college are you attending?"

"Uhhhh…." Miguel blundered. He glanced at Claire first, seeking aide, but found none. "Uh, I'm… going to MCCC."

"Mission City Community College? I've heard of it." Claire was next to fall victim to Ron Witwicky's scrutiny. "What about you?"

Unlike Miguel, she could at least be partly truthful. "Santa Clara University," she answered piously.

The older man's eyes narrowed. "Isn't that in California?"

"I'm… on spring break."

There was another uncertain pause, and Claire had a bad moment when she feared she would be called on her lie. But, luckily for them all, Sam's father was a firm believer in a normal, orderly world. He was one of the vast majorities of American citizens who wholeheartedly took the government's explanation of the events at Mission City without missing a beat. He made his own conclusions to the scene unfolding before him, and flowed with them.

"Oh, so you must be here to visit your boyfriend!" the man exclaimed, motioning to Miguel in a good-natured manner.

"Uh, actually…" Claire froze, and a rush of heat filled her face. Miguel and herself? Dating?

Miguel also appeared plainly uncomfortable with Ron Witwicky's comment. He shifted from one foot to the other, and turned his gaze down the street, where he wished he could be.

"Yeah, uh, those two crazy kids!" It was Sam. He was flicking nervous looks between Claire and Miguel, ushering them to play along.

Claire finally just gave a defeated nod.

Miguel looked back. "Uh, yeah, she's here to visit me."

He nodded robustly, "It's hard to keep together when you attend different schools, but Sam's mother and I made it through the exact same predicament. You guys will be fine."

Claire blanched. "Thanks."

"I didn't catch your names? I'm always interested in Sam's friends. He hardly brings any over, except Miles."

Sam lifted in eyebrow and appeared embarrassed. Claire mused that that was just one of Ron Witwicky's powers – subtle mortification upon all he crossed. "I have lots of friends," Sam protested.

Ron used his freehand to clap his son on the shoulder. "If you say so. I just wanted you to know that your mother and I really thought that girl you brought by was very nice. You should bring her over to dinner sometime."

If Sam could dig himself a hole to China, he would have gladly accepted a shovel.

"Well, I better get back inside before your mother gets even more worried. Nice to meet you two. What did you say your names were?"

"Claire," the blonde woman answered.

"Miguel," the dark-haired man seconded.

Mojo growled.

Sam's father nodded and stroked the dog on the back as if to reassure it. "Well, like I said, nice to meet you. I'm glad to see some of these friends Sam claims to have showing up. He really keeps too much to himself."

"Uh, dad, we're going to go out for awhile. I have a few questions for them about… entrance exams and stuff."

"Sounds good. Call home if you're going to be late." The large man turned away, cradling the Chihuahua in front of him like a football. He emitted a wave over his shoulder, and then climbed up the driveway. He was halfway to the front door of his house when he stopped. Curving around, he gave one last parting shot. "Hey, Sam! Remember to tell them about the grass." Satisfied, Ron Witwicky continued on his way and vanished into the dwelling before him.

"Oh, right," Sam muttered quietly, "stay off the grass. He gets picky about that."

"No problem, man." Miguel looked like he was going through shell shock. His voice escaped him meekly, leaving Claire to believe that meeting the teenager's father had perhaps been a bit too much at once.

"So, anyways," Sam said, switching the subject as he rubbed the back of his head, "I was told you were on your way by the other Autobots. I haven't had the time to meet Smokescreen." He motioned half-heartedly towards the Subaru. "He recently arrived and was given orders by Optimus to find you." Sam's face was now staring in Claire's direction.

"Um, that's all well and good, but who is Optimus?"

"He didn't tell you?" Sam seemed surprised by this. Smokescreen, for his part, continued to play the part of a car. He said nothing.

"Optimus is the leader of the Autobots," the kid stated proudly.

Miguel was muttering in Spanish to himself. Claire picked up something that sounded like 'No mames güey', but she could not fathom the meaning. Her Spanish was very poor, even thought she had grown up surrounded by many ethnicities in the melting pot of the Bay Area. Upon moving to Nevada, she was surrounded by even more diversity. She chalked up her lack of Spanish to keeping to a small, homogenous group of friends in school and then keeping to herself later.

"They have a leader?" Miguel reverted back to English again. Claire envied the ease he had in juggling the two languages.

"Do you humans not have leaders?" The voice that cut in on Miguel's query was not one that belonged to any human. It was Smokescreen's. It came from the curb, where the Subaru had been almost forgotten. Claire mentally chided herself for forgetting he had been present and listening all along.

Miguel frowned and faced the car. "Hey, I don't appreciate…"

"It was an ignorant assumption."

If Miguel had any small parcel of thought that he had come to an understanding with the robot on the drive over, he was wrong. "I don't like your attitude, man." His voice was lowering in pitch, indicating he was getting testy. "If you got a problem with me…"

"Hey, now." Claire took the opportunity to interrupt, just as Miguel was clenching his hands into fists. Smokescreen had more than once gotten on her bad side, but Miguel wouldn't stand idly by if he were pushed too far. He was already in a stressful situation, and his temper was short. He would not think twice about taking a rock to Smokescreen's window, an action that in turn would reward him with an instant entrance into the next world. "Would you guys calm down? Miguel, I know he's an ass sometimes… but hey, he did save our lives. Let's just get through this step-by-step."

Sam was observing the proceedings with a wary eye. Tension drained from his shoulders when Claire attempted to mollify the two, and he stepped closer to drag everyone's attention to his person. "So… you're Smokescreen? I've heard about you from the others."

"None of it good," Miguel groused, still burned by the Subaru's barbs.

Claire knocked an elbow back into Miguel's ribcage and he grimaced.

Smokescreen appeared to take the higher ground and ignored Miguel. "I have heard about you too, Sam Witwicky. Thank you for your help against Megatron."

'Mega-what?' Claire mouthed silently to Miguel. The entire conversation was flowing like a rapid river over their heads. Miguel just glowered back at her, displeased with the ache in his side that she put there.

A sound turned their eyes to the house. The Camaro roared to life and began to back out of the garage. As the shadows cast by the house peeled away, the sun lit the bright expanse of the yellow sports car. It looked very, very expensive.

Holy crap. That kid drives around in that?! Claire's mind balked.

Honestly, it put Smokescreen's Subaru form to shame. If he had still been disguised as a Datsun, Claire would have not even bothered comparing the two. The Camaro appeared brand-new, as if it should be on display on some showroom floor. The Subaru looked like it was a rally car, meant for speed and work. It was apples and oranges, but Claire would be damned if her eyes weren't first drawn to the sleek red exterior of the apple before they checked out the pebbly surface of the orange.

Clearly, the Camaro was the apple.

"Wow, where did you get that?"

"From a used car lot, my dad bought it for me. He actually found me, though."

"He…?"

"Bumblebee."

"Oh." The switch went on in her head, and she scolded herself for being so slow on the uptake. It was another Autobot, another one of Smokescreen's kind. It drove without a driver, and purred as it rolled backwards out of the driveway. It kept reversing until it came to be parallel with the humans standing along the side of the street, and then gently ceased motion entirely.

"Hello," it said in a cultured voice. Claire blinked. Unlike Smokescreen's dry baritone, this new voice provided the Camaro with an entirely different personality. It was a smooth articulation that seemed both young and pleasant.

Damn, lucky kid. He got a Who and I got the Grinch.

"Uh, hello," Claire said, giving a nervous little wave. Did they even see to the sides while in car form? She had no idea.

"Hey," Miguel added nervously. His eyes darted anxiously between the Subaru and the Camaro, unsure of what to make of the talking cars.

"Well, we'd better get going!" Sam said gaily. He rounded the Camaro, and the door opened for him. "You can follow us, Smokescreen. I need to stop by and pick up Mikaela first, though. I hope you don't mind?"

"Indeed."

"Oh." Both of Sam's eyebrows rose. "You do mind?"

"Are all humans so daft?" The question was meant for Bumblebee. "I meant I did not mind, of course."

Bumblebee did not rise to the bait. In fact, he had no interest whatsoever in engaging in agreement with Smokescreen. "You could be a bit nicer, Smoke."

"Perhaps I would feel more inclined when the boy becomes a brighter bulb."

"Smokescreen," edged the yellow Camaro dangerously, "shift gears and watch what you say."

Claire was delighted. She was absolutely, positively delighted. Smokescreen was being told off by his own kind. He did not seem to take the warnings of humans into much consideration, but perhaps he would listen to another Autobot.

"Go shove it up your exhaust," Smokescreen rejoined simply.

Bumblebee revved his engine. He was positioned just ahead of the Subaru, and used the location to his advantage. Sam had by then clambered inside the Camaro's cab. As the door slammed shut behind him, the Camaro peeled away.

"I'd rather you smell it first!" laughed the Camaro.

The stench of used gas hit Claire's nose, marking Bumblebee's words. A black cloud of noxious fumes spilled from Bumblebee's exhaust pipe and into the air around Smokescreen, truly creating a 'smokescreen' so thick around the Subaru that Claire could barely make him out. Both Miguel and Claire leaped back, incidentally landing on Ron Witwicky's perfect stretch of manicured lawn. A strangled cry erupted through an open window of the house behind them, and Claire knew they were in trouble.

Grabbing Miguel by the arm, she put her arm against her mouth and pulled her coworker into Smokescreen via the passenger door. She slammed it behind them, echoing the sound from the Witwicky's front door as Sam's father came striding out in an angry jaunt.

Smokescreen was furious. "In, in!" he was shouting. "Slaggin' tough-bot." His normally correct and arrogant way of speaking had gone to hell. His voice was laced with impatience, and he was cursing Bumblebee with words Claire had no earthly lexicon for.

The moment they were inside, several things happened at once. Ron Witwicky was nearly upon them, pumping his fist in rage, and then Smokescreen peeled away. Miguel and Claire were thrown backwards from the force of the momentum, causing Claire to squeak in surprise and Miguel to shower the Subaru with Spanish 'pleasantries'.

Still, despite the ruckus, Claire had to hand it to Bumblebee. He had managed to do something she had not - he had successfully pushed Smokescreen's buttons.

She was impressed.

Once out of the residential maze of streets and cul-de-sacs, the two transformers and their human occupants hit a two-lane highway that opened up into a more commercial area. Fast food joints lined the streets along with grocery stores and other shopping venues. Smokescreen had done all in his power (short of breaking the speed limit too much) to catch up to the Camaro.

Miguel felt like a teenager again. He didn't particularly like Smokescreen, but the way he handled on the road was unlike anything he ever knew. The way the car swerved cleanly around other cars showed the expertise behind the steering. Like the drive there, he did not know where they were going or what they were going to do when they got there. The last he heard, they were to pick up some girl named Mikaela. If he had any intuition at all, it was the Anglo kid's girlfriend.

They traveled for about five minutes, and several times the two cars hit stoplights. They would gun their motors, taunting and goading each other. When the light turned green, the Camaro and Subaru would be off like a shot, blowing smoke out their rears and dusting the windshields of the cars behind them. Claire had her seatbelt on and was clutching the sides of her seat with a death grip, but Miguel was enjoying himself. The square of asphalt before each crosswalk they encountered was bequeathed with skid marks, he was sure of it.

Eventually they pulled into a small trailer court community. The trailers were shabby and dilapidated, constructed with aluminum and other cheap materials. Miguel had never lived in a trailer court, but he had had friends that did. They were nothing new to him. Claire, on the other hand, was looking around like they had discovered some strange new world.

"This is just getting weirder and weirder," she stated quietly.

"Yeah," he said distantly, wondering if she was looking down her nose at the trailers. Probably.

The screen door to one of the trailers swung aside, and a petite brunette jogged down a few wooden steps that had been rigged to the side of the dwelling. The makeshift steps shook, which reverberated down the side of the trailer. She saw Sam in the yellow Camaro and smiled. After giving him a small wave, she swept her gaze over to the Subaru beyond the first car. A frown fell upon her visage, and she crept nearer to the Camaro. Miguel saw her making a few gestures that were flung in his direction, and he figured Sam was explaining the situation to the girl.

She was rather pretty, but she didn't have enough meat on her bones to rouse any attraction in him. After much back and forth, the girl climbed into the Bumblebee creature and they were on their way once more.

They pulled out of town, back into the open desert, but they didn't go far. The cars began to ascend into the painted mountains, to a point that overlooked the sprawling city below. The road they took was narrow, and seemed seldom used. Crags and boulders whizzed by, and soon the climb tapered off enough that they rolled onto relatively level ground. The two cars rolled to a stop, and that's when Miguel's mouth ran dry.

Through the windshield, he could make out other vehicles. The dust kicked up by their rides was just beginning to settle – they were no longer on a paved road. The first one that took his attention was a yellow hummer. The second was a dark GMC truck, and the last… why hadn't he noticed it first?

It was a blue-on-red semi-truck with painted flames blazing across its sides. Even more noticeable was its size – it was enormous. All three vehicles faced the new arrivals, completely immobile. Miguel began to feel his heart accelerate, and he stole a glance over to Claire. Her lips were half-parted, and her hands had folded over themselves in her lap. She seemed engrossed by the view in front of her, and only snapped out of her stupor when he shook her shoulder.

His coworker gave him a startled acknowledgment, and then swallowed slowly.

The sound of grinding gears stole their attention away from one another. Both of Smokescreen's doors opened, and Miguel and Claire reluctantly took the cue to exit the car. As they did so, their eyes saw what their minds could not believe.

The sibilant slide of metal on metal resonated through the air. Both Claire and Miguel had their mouths open, jaws slack, and were so wrapped up in the moment that they hadn't noticed Sam and Mikaela were also standing nearby.

The three vehicles ahead shifted, twisted,and inverted in ways Miguel's mind could not follow. It was like watching knots come loose on their own, following a route only they knew to take in order to come away undone.

They fell away from a form, temporarily lost one, and then reformed. They stretched upward, moving ever towards the skies.

Claire gasped.

Miguel started shivering, a fine tremor that started in his fingertips and streaked through his entire body. It was so unlike him, so unfitting, but he was helpless to stop it. The vehicles were no longer that – they were mechanical monsters that towered above the four humans. Behind them, vents hissed and the resounding clamor of metallic elements groaning under a great weight got their attention.

Claire was the first to wheel around, and skittered backwards several steps when she saw that Smokescreen and Bumblebee had transformed too.

They were surrounded. Miguel's mind flashed back to the memory of the bartender and his rifle, standing so bravely on the ruined foundation of his livelihood while El Diablo leered overhead. It was the epic of David and Goliath all over again. The contrast between the sizes he saw in his mind's eye filled him with a fear incomparable to anything he had ever experienced. He was now the bartender, standing on a remote speck of land while a circle of alien leviathans penned him in and advanced closer.

…And he didn't even have a weapon.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. All recognizable characters are the property of HasTak. All original characters are mine.

A/N:Wow, 40,000 words with this insertion. Yikes! I was also very, very touched! So many people gave me feedback for that last chapter. I really love getting it, so I want to thank each one of you!

Soului: I know what you mean about those 'update' reviews. It seems easier to just write out, "Update plz" or "Good story, update soon". It doesn't get to the nitty-gritty. I want to know what people think, and I thank you for the time you took to write that review!

dandyparakeet: Yeah, Miguel might be in trouble later… or not. I can't decide what I want his denial to do to him. We'll see as he tells me! And yes, Smokescreen is getting nicer. Not to everyone else, note, but maybe he'll start easing up some on Claire…

Kia: Thanks for the review! I am trying to keep this fic real, as much as possible anyways. I want the humans in the story to react as humans would if they were truly presented with this set of circumstances. A lot of stories gloss over the surprise and terror that this would do to someone, and pretty soon you have your main character talking smack to Megatron without fear of reprisal.

soaringphoenix: I love that you love that I do that – if that makes sense? LOL. I love selecting those quotes or songs for each chapter, since it lets me dig through a bunch of music in order to find lyrics that will best fit the situation in the chapter. As far as Claire and Smokescreen goes… well, I will be doing a pairing with them in the story as it unfolds (as noted in the summary), but it won't be typical. They have lots to work through, lots of obstacles. There might be some sort of sympathy for each other developing for each other now, but they are still robot and human. That in of itself is a whole story. I can't get into that fully because there is a plot to this fic and that needs the most attention. Buuuut… it is a strong subplot. Their ending is still up in the air, but I'm positive it won't be happily-ever-after. It won't be tragic, but it'll be… well, it'll just be. You'll see. ) Thank you for the support!

Elariel: I really think that this may be a first for this category too. It's kind of cool to think that, at least! I am also endeavoring to keep Claire as far from Mary-Suedom as possible. If she ever gets there, tell me so I can take myself out back and put a gun to my head… okay, kidding. ) Thanks for the review!

Elita One: Well, it does look like you had a good thought… because they just met practically everyone!

Miguel's Translations:

No mames güey: 'You're shitting me, holy fuck.'