"Cristina! What the hell, we agreed no sex in communal areas!" Callie cried out before she lifted her hands up in front of her face to block the incredibly revealing view in front of her, as Cristina sat on her boyfriend Owen's lap.

Both topless.

And there was a little something-something happening lower – which she hadn't actually witnessed, but she'd seen more than enough of the motions they were making in the three seconds since she walked through the door to know.

Ugh, god, seeing the two of them go at it in the kitchen when they'd first started hooking up would be permanently burned into her memory, and since then the common courtesy rule had been in place.

Which Cristina was currently breaking, hard-core.

But her interruption hadn't cooled the flames, merely granted her a flippant wave, which she took as her roommate telling her to get lost. Despite the fact that she would have to disinfect the couch tomorrow morning, she had no desire to stay to see the remainder of the act, so with a frustrated murmur of, "We're going to have a serious talk about this tomorrow, Yang," she flung her door open, then quickly shut it behind her.

And for a few seconds, she rested her head back against it, because holy hell was she tired. She loved her role in the musical, really. She was grateful for the work, for making a name for herself. She loved the fact that in the three weeks since the show had opened, her name was actually recognizable in reputable sources.

She genuinely enjoyed the songs she sang, the dances she danced, and the well-written storyline that she was portraying as a whole. If she hadn't been in this musical, she wouldn't have become friends with Addison, who in the last month, had proved that her talented obnoxious self was also an endearing friend.

But along with all of those absolutely amazing things – and they were amazing – came certain downsides. One of the highlights of this show was the many intricate dances they'd learned, and while they were crowd pleasers, it was like a constant soreness from the eight show a week performance.

Wednesdays, like today, were the worst, admittedly, because of the two shows a day. At least on Saturday with the two shows, there was only a Sunday matinee to follow.

Tonight had been particularly tiring, as – during a preshow rehearsal – Mark had slipped on a lift, and that had resulted in her landing uncomfortably on her ankle. It bruised and twisted slightly – not badly enough to not go on stage, but… still.

With a deep breath, she pushed herself off the door and tossed her jacket onto her bed before inching the entrance open again and called out to warn her roommate, "I'm running to the kitchen. No antics please!"

By the time she made it back into her room, ice pack in hand, she was quick to shut the door behind her again, because this time not only was she spurred on by Cristina and Owen, but her cell was ringing.

Quickly pulling it from her coat pocket, she noted the caller id, and picked up with a grin, "Well, well, it's not every day that I get a call from Arizona Robbins."

There was a few seconds of a pause before the blonde responded, "What are you talking about? We talk every day, except for that one time."

As her mouth pulled up into a bright smile, she turned to lower herself on the bed and hummed in satisfaction of being off her feet, "I know that, but I'm the one who calls you."

"Ah," Arizona sighed in answer before hesitating for a moment and asking, "Does that bother you?"

She lifted up her foot to the bed, gingerly, as she carefully removed her boot and sock. The bruise looked disgusting, yet somewhat fascinating, and she lightly rotated her foot in a circle, before she considered her friend's question.

And answered honestly, with a thoughtful, "No. I mean, you told me that if you didn't want me to call or something that you would tell me. I thought you liked that I called you," she tacked on absently, grimacing as she turned her ankle the other way, before she thought again about what she'd just said, and shook her head, with her cheeks warming, "Not that – I mean, you did say you liked when we talked, but –"

Arizona's quiet giggle sounded in her ear, effectively cutting her off, but also made her shoulders relax from their sudden tension, "I do, I like talking to you. Clearly. And I like when you call me punctually. Which is kind of why I was calling tonight."

Her forehead wrinkled in confusion before brown eyes wandered towards the small alarm clock on the bedside table – something that Cristina liked to mock her for, but sometimes the alarm on her phone just didn't do it – and noted that it was half past eleven.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize I was late; if you want to go to bed or something, we can talk tomorrow."

She really hoped that wasn't going to be the case; she looked forward to coming home at night and talking to Arizona. She got to tell her all about any little thing in her day – from any sort of fumble or misstep in the show to stories about Cristina or Addison or her cast members to how she fell into a snow drift.

When they'd first started talking, she had thought she was going overboard, but it turned out that Arizona actually liked to hear about her day, about her adventures, even when they were lame.

But Arizona was quick to shut that thought out, "No, I – well, yes, I don't want to stay up very late tonight, but I have time to chat for a while. I meant that I got kind of…" she trailed off, her voice getting quiet, which piqued Callie's curiosity, before she finished with, "Worried."

It had been so long since she'd had someone who was there at the end of the day, not just physically, like Cristina, but someone who cared. And in some way, not only did she had someone, but she found Arizona? It felt like she was beating the odds.

And god, her eyes were feeling teary at the blonde's quiet confession over the phone – clearly a sign that she was exhausted, she thought. But there hadn't been anyone who worried about her being late or not coming home or checking in, in what felt like forever.

She brought her other hand up to rub at her eyes, not realizing she hadn't answered her for a long moment, until Arizona seemed to take her silence the wrong way.

Which made Arizona backpedal, "I mean – not like you have to call every night at eleven unless you've been mugged or something, but you have been calling every night at that time, so I just thought that something might be wrong. New York City is a dangerous place, walking home alone late at night for a young woman isn't the safest thing in the world. So I was worried," she repeated – somewhat defended, Callie thought – before Arizona groaned, "Is that weird?"

She felt a smile take over her face, so big that she felt like it might break her face in half, "Asking if you're being weird is my line," she teased, before she shook her head, "But, no. It's very nice of you to worry about me, though," her voice was quiet, and she closed her eyes, "I wasn't mugged. It just took me a little while longer to get home because I twisted my ankle in a dance earlier."

"Well, I'm glad you weren't mugged, but the ankle is rough. How bad is it?" the blonde asked, and Callie could practically hear the concerned frown on her face.

She enjoyed it.

But she still dug her teeth painfully into her bottom lip as she surveyed her ankle again, once more twisting it in a few directions, "It's sore, but not very swollen. The bruising is probably the worst, honestly. I think I'll be well enough to go on tomorrow as planned."

"Alternate hot and cold compresses, and stay off it for the next twelve hours," Arizona commanded, and the serious sound of it made Callie bark out a laugh.

She did as she was told, though, settling back onto the bed, and lifting her foot up, with the ice now pressed onto it, "What are you, a doctor?"

The scoff she got in response made her laugh, "Callie, I may not be a doctor, but I've been in cheerleading since I was fourteen. I've dealt with my fair share of choreographic incidents."

"All right, all right. I trust you," she sighed, and settled back, pulling her pillow up behind her head, "How was your day? Did you talk to your mock-trial team about that case?"

Arizona wasn't typically as loquacious as she was on their phone calls, not by a long shot. Callie had learned very soon into their nightly chats that while Arizona shared stories and seemed to be fairly unguarded with her, she also seemed to be sure not to share too much.

But Callie didn't push.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that," her voice was suddenly questioning, before she rushed to say, "Not about my mock-trial, which, I'll tell you about in a minute, but my day. My day tomorrow, actually. I, uh, I'm in the midst of applying for grad schools, you know."

She did know; Arizona had informed her of this information… a little while ago, "Mhmm?" she prompted.

Arizona paused for a few beats, and Callie wondered what she did during these pauses in conversation. Did she lick her lips? Did she tap her fingers on something?

Then she cleared her throat, "Well, I have an interview in a couple of days. It's at Columbia, which, as you might know, is somewhere in your area," Arizona paused for a few seconds, as Callie sat up excitedly in her bed, "My interview is at noon, and I have to be on the train back to school by three, for cheerleading practice. But that does provide a window for a coffee, or something."

Callie felt her heart start to beat quickly in her chest, excitement coiling inside of her, "Are you kidding?"

The way Arizona's laugh came, somewhat nervous, made Callie's excitement grow even more, "No, not kidding. So, are you interested?"

"Uh, are you kidding?" she repeated, kicking her feet out before yelping in pain – she'd forgotten about her ankle, and kicked the ice off the bed, "Of course I'm interested! We've been talking for months, I think it's time we get to meet. Face-to-face."

Face-to-face, with Arizona! With the person that she was clearly fated to know!

Before either of them could say anything else, she heard fighting from Arizona's end, before a long suffering sigh, as Arizona groaned, "Sorry, something came up here. I'll text you."

The line was disconnected quickly thereafter.

No matter, though, because her enthusiasm couldn't be tempered down. Even with her ankle annoyingly in pain, she quickly took a shower, washed her face, and by the time she got back to her room, her phone had lit up with a new message.

So, I should be free by 1. Does that work for you?

1 is perfect! Do you have somewhere specifically you want to meet?

You're the New Yorker.

Fine, fine. There's a coffee shop that I really like, and I know you'll be able to get there. It's right around the corner from the bookstore.

The fated bookstore, she quickly added, with a grin.

Fate discussion aside, I know the place. So, coffee? 1?

I'll be there with a rose in my lapel.

… Callie, please don't appear in public with a rose in your lapel.

How else will you know it's me?!

Dark hair, dark eyes. I got it.

Yes, I will be the only dark haired, dark eyed woman in NYC. Red rose, in lapel.

If you're wearing the boutoneirre, should I wear a corsage?

YES! That's perfect.

I was KIDDING.

I wasn't! See you then, corsage and all. Have a good night, Arizona!

Callie woke up the next morning with a weight pressing down against her side, an unfamiliar weight, and she frowned before opening her eyes. Cristina's MO was less of a sit next to her approach and more of a wake-the-hell up approach.

When she did open her eyes, she was nearly immersed in red hair, and for a few shocking moments, she quickly pushed herself up and away, "What the hell?"

And it took her beating heart a few calming seconds before she grasped her surroundings enough to recognize who exactly it was, and she sat up quickly. Blearily blinking her eyes open, she squinted at the redhead, "Addison? What are you doing here? In my apartment? In my bed?"

Addison lifted her eyebrows and glanced around the room, "You have an interesting place here, Torres."

A glance at her phone told her that it was already past ten, and she groaned, pulling her pillow up and putting it on top of her face, "You live in a Brownstone in Brooklyn. Please tell me you didn't come here to shit on my little apartment."

She couldn't see her face, but she knew the smirk the redhead wore, "Why would I shit on your apartment when I actively left mine this morning to seek yours out? And I said it was interesting; I didn't say anything bad!"

Callie knew that she hadn't, but she also knew that tone. Addison was already burgeoningly successful in her own right, let alone coming from a wealthy family. And after coming from her own wealthy family, she knew the tonal inflection well enough. But she sighed, "Right. That doesn't explain what you're doing here."

Wait. Sliding the pillow to the side, one of her eyes opened as she looked up at her friend suspiciously, "How do you even know where I live, creep?"

Addison just shrugged, and took a bite of one of the poptarts that Cristina kept stocked in their kitchen. When she caught Callie's eye, she shrugged, "So I poked around a little bit before I came to see you. Poking around in this place took like two minutes, tops. And, hello, I have Richard on speed dial; I can find out any information I want about you in two seconds. Oh, and your roommate is a peach, she was leaving when I arrived. She just let me right up; you two should have a better security system."

She gestured over her shoulder toward her baseball bat, "That's our security system. Can you please tell me what you're doing here? Otherwise I'm going to assume you've developed your own Sapphic vibes, and this is your less than subtle come on."

For a second, she was extremely concerned her jibe actually hit the nail on the head because Addison bit her lip, and remained silent. Then she closed her eyes and burst out, "I slept with Mark!"

Callie was legitimately speechless, and all she managed to sputter out after a few seconds of stunned silence was, "What?"

Now Addison copied her position, pulling the other pillow up and over her face, "I had sex with Mark, last night. After the play."

Callie, now fully awake, sat up and reached over to grab the pillow and pull it up, repeating, "What? Are you two… I thought you were still with Derek?"

The grin Addison gave her was somehow devious, guilty, and playful all at once, "I am. But he's cheating on me, and we never see each other as it is, maybe five minutes a day, if that."

They'd discussed her engagement with Derek several times, and Callie had decided to let Addison handle her own affairs – no pun intended – long before this. So she wasn't even going to step into the morality of cheating, and she chose her words carefully. It wasn't difficult, as she still had no idea what to even say, "I – but… Mark. Mark Sloan?"

Addison's look was entirely unamused, "How many Marks do we mutually know, Callie? Of course Mark Sloan. And the rumors about him are really, really right."

"I'd imagine. He knows how to kiss, for sure," at Addison's stare, she blushed, but quickly added, "So do you! I kiss both of you eight times a week for a profession. Jeez."

But the redhead's stare quickly smoothed out and she looked up to Callie's ceiling, "Well, we both know what we're doing, and it was really, really great. Great in his dressing room –"

With a groan, she shut her eyes, "That's enough."

Addison paid no mind, "Great in the orchestra –"

Now she couldn't help but gag, "Addison, stop. The orchestra?"

"And great twice in my bedroom," she finished with a flourish of her hands.

And Callie couldn't help but gape, "You took him to you and Derek's bedroom? Are you insane?"

As she pushed herself up onto her elbow, Addison rolled her eyes, "Derek is never there. Out having his own affair, remember? And I'm not the insane one; Mark was the one who tried to pull some crazy shit about staying the night! Is he kidding me? I thought he was supposed to fuck and leave?"

The idea that it was Addison and not Mark who had gone about their affair as a hit it and quit it deal made her laugh, "I don't even… why Mark? You hate like him!"

Addison just quirked an eyebrow, "Hate is a strong word, Callie. And I think the passion fueled our sex. Besides. It's not… a thing. It was just a thing." She shrugged, as if to say, no big deal, "Anyway, I wasn't in the mood to see Derek this morning, so I skipped out, and found my way here."

"You're unbelievable," she muttered, playfully pushing Addison's elbow out from under her, and causing her to fall onto her back.

"Yep," the redhead agreed, before turning on her side and pulling out the top drawer on Callie's bedside table, "Do you have any aspirin in here? I – are these the letters?"

In a flash, Callie felt herself start to blush and quickly rolled over, trying to somehow shove the drawer shut without catching Addison's hand in it. She had no problem discussing Arizona with Addison, but it felt like an invasion of privacy – both she and Arizona's – to let Addison read their letters.

She didn't manage to do that, but she did easily pluck them away from inquiring hands, "They are, and reading mail that isn't addressed to you is a felony."

Addison's snort of laughter was enough to make her start to chuckle herself, as she placed the letters back where they belonged, "I think that only applies to opening someone else's mail, but okay."

The mention of Arizona was like a jolt of caffeine, and she quickly sat up, pushing her head back, "Oh my god."

Addison looked marginally less enthralled than Callie, "What's your issue?"

"Arizona and I – on the phone last night, we agreed to meet tomorrow for coffee!"

The hurried way her friend pushed herself up to mirror her position was enough to make her turn her head fast enough she nearly fell off the side of her bed, "You and Arizona are meeting?!"

"I feel like you just got more excited than I am," she quipped, though, admittedly, it would be more difficult to be more excited than she was.

Her friend was already out of the bed, quickly eating the rest of the poptart before whipping open Callie's closet, "God, how do you fit all of these clothes in here? I feel like it's about to be an avalanche." Without waiting for Callie's answer, she started digging through, "What outfit are you going to wear? What's the protocol for dressing to meet your pen pal turned close friend, whom you are fated to be with?"

Brown eyes rolled at her last comment because Addison still hadn't given up on her tirade about "Sapphic vibes" but she didn't say anything other than, "I have no idea. But I need to get a boutoneirre!"

That slowed Addison down enough to stare at her, before she broke out in laughter, "A boutoneirre? We really do need to work on your game."

Callie was now a different kind of nervous than she had been on the opening night of the play. A kind of nervous as in she was going to meet Arizona! For real meet, and she had no idea what to even expect.

It seemed like a surreal experience, she thought, as she walked down the street, quickly approaching the café. She'd already stopped by the theater and dropped off her bag with all of the items she brought for the show every night, just in case she didn't have enough time after hanging out with Arizona to make it back to her apartment before pre-show preparations.

It was good to be prepared, she thought, with a nervous tug to her jacket.

After Addison had practically decimated everything she had in her closet and tossed it over the seeable surface area of Callie's bedroom, they ended up settling on just a pair of jeans and one of Callie's favorite black sweaters. Addison had deemed it first date appropriate because it showed off her ass, but was also casual.

She deemed it first meeting appropriate because it was casual and she wasn't a wacko like her friend was.

Feet seemed to drag a bit as she drew closer to the café, because she'd spent the better part of her time unsure as to how exactly this was going to be happening. Would it be awkward? They talked nightly, but talking was one thing, and seeing each other and talking in person was another entirely.

Or wasn't it?

As she rounded the corner, she stopped where she stood, and simultaneously rolled her eyes and laughed. Because Addison was standing outside of the window of the café, looking completely conspicuous, as she peered inside.

Now she couldn't help herself from speeding up, because Addison was getting all of the glory. As soon as she was in the appropriate distance, she made sure to keep her voice down, "Okay, seriously, I feel like you are too invested."

Addison turned to look at her before rolling her eyes, "Callie, you know that I am grossly, unhealthily fascinated with your relationship with Arizona. And besides," her eyes sparked with mischief, "I'm meeting Mark at the theater soon, and this was on the way. I figured why not stop and take a peek."

And then she turned again to peer through the window area that wasn't painted over from the inside, clicking her tongue, "She's hot."

Now Callie's stomach twisted and she bounced onto the balls of her feet, and she tried to bump Addison with her shoulder, because she couldn't see, "She's here? How do you know?"

Now blue eyes rolled toward her, disdainfully looking at the red rose that she had tucked into her jacket, "Because apparently you're here to pick her up for prom. I didn't imagine that there would be anyone else here wearing a corsage."

At that, Callie grinned brightly, and nearly clapped her hands with excitement, "She really wore it? Get out of the way, Addison, let me see."

Using her shoulder, she forcefully moved against Addison, which made her slide a little on the slush-covered ice on the sidewalk, but it was effective, and Callie managed to see into the café.

And then she nearly fell over herself, her eyes widening almost comically, because she scanned over the patrons inside for Arizona's physical descriptor – blonde hair, blue eyes, great body – and where her eyes landed couldn't be correct. It honestly couldn't be.

"No way," she whispered, and her voice came out sounding mystified to her own ears.

Granted, she couldn't exactly see her body, as the blonde haired, blue eyed woman was sitting down, body hidden behind a table. But she was sitting there by herself, sipping quietly on a mug of coffee – ever so often looking around – and there was a red corsage on her wrist. There was no possible way that she was mistaking this.

Addison was trying to peek in again, "What? What is it?"

Without taking her eyes off of the woman inside – because she honestly couldn't – she whispered, "That's the girl! That's the girl, with the coffee thing outside of the bookstore a few weeks ago, on opening night. And from the club!"

"No way!" Addison repeated her, but in a much louder exclamation than Callie used, "I fucking knew there were Sapphic vibes!"

But Callie had no idea how to respond to this. Because there had been Sapphic vibes between she and the cute blonde who she'd run in to – twice. But… she'd never really thought there were vibes between her and Arizona.

If Arizona was the blonde, what did that mean? God, this feeling in her stomach was definitely unsettling.

Still, she reached up to clamp her hand over Addison's mouth to keep her from shouting again, "No. There aren't vibes, so just… calm down, okay?"

She could barely calm down. Okay – this didn't change anything, did it? She'd met the blonde before she knew it was Arizona, and they got along well. Now that it was actually Arizona, it just meant that it didn't have to be awkward the way her mind had been making their meeting out to be, right?

Addison's shoulder bumped insistently with hers, "I want to see again, Cal."

But she refused to be moved yet, and the redhead knocked into her again, and it almost knocked her feet out from under her, as she slipped. Grabbing Addison's arm, she gripped so that they didn't fall, even as they both slammed against the window.

And out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blonde head look up toward the window, and she felt herself blush, just as they made eye contact.

Which got her in gear, allowing her to find her footing and jerk away from the window to glare at Addison, who was already laughing, "You should probably get in there before you make more of a commotion of yourself."

"Me? I –" with a deep breath, she cut herself off, and managed to send her friend one last glare, as she pressed her cool hands to her heated cheeks – she didn't want to look like a complete idiot when she walked up to Arizona inside. "Okay. I can do this. It's just Arizona."

Then she felt Addison slap her ass, making her jump, and propelled her to the door, "That's the spirit! I expect details later, Torres." And then she was just a fast walking blur blending into the rest of the people on the sidewalk.

Callie took another step towards the door, keeping her hands over her cheeks – she could do this. It wasn't a big thing. It didn't change anything that she and Arizona had met before, right? It didn't have to be awkward if they didn't make it awkward.

Maybe Arizona wouldn't even remember that they'd bumped into each other. The thought made her frown, because she didn't know if that would be better or worse.

Reaching her hand out, she pulled open the door, murmuring to herself once more, "It's just Arizona."

Arizona, who was dorky in her own way. Arizona, who she already knew liked to talk to her and hear her stories. Who laughed when she told her funny anecdotes.

Arizona, who she'd wondered about what her smile looked like over the phone, and now she knew because she had a gorgeously dimpled smile that Callie hadn't forgotten in the three weeks it had been since their encounters.

Fiddling with the flower, she ignored the anticipation in her stomach and forced herself forward, but had only taken two steps inside of the door before that crazily, intensely blue gaze snapped to hers, and for a second she thought that she froze in place, but apparently she didn't because she found her feet moving her forward towards Arizona's table.

And she could tell by the blatant shock on her face that Arizona recognized her, too. Definitely a relief, she thought, because on some level, she was glad she was just as memorable as "the blonde" had been to her.

When she was at the side of the table, maintaining their eye contact, she had to clear her throat before getting out a quiet, "Hi."

Arizona's eyes were still wide as she stared up at her, "It's you!"

And for some reason, that was what made her nervous crack, and she chuckled, "It's me. And it's you! Just to clarify…" she finally ripped her gaze from the blonde, doing a quick surveillance of the area, before coming back to meet the surprised gaze, "You are Arizona, right?"

Not that she couldn't recognize her voice, now that she'd heard it so much.

There was a sunshine smile that broke through the surprise, and blue eyes twinkled up at her, "Nope, wrong table."

Narrowing her eyes, she shook her head, "Fine, I'll take my pleasurable company elsewhere." But she didn't even mockingly turn to leave because she just couldn't. Her gaze dipped to the corsage on her wrist, and she couldn't help but smile widely, "I really didn't expect you to actually wear that."

Arizona's eyes flickered between the corsage and the red flower tucked into Callie's jacket, "I only did because I did expect you to wear that. And hey, I didn't slip this on until I got here to wait for you. You've been walking the streets wearing that!" she finished with a giggle.

It was the giggle that made Callie's stomach feel all warm and strange, and she ate it up, "I'm not ashamed."

It somehow made Arizona sober just a bit, though her eyes still had that sparkle, "I know you aren't, that's the weird thing." Then she looked over to the window, "Hey, were you just out there spying on me?"

Her damn blush gave her away, she knew it, even as she bit her lip and denied, "Nope! I'm going to get a coffee. I'll be right back."

The few minutes she spent in the coffee line, she used to try to settle her flipping stomach – that hadn't been bad. It hadn't been super weird. For her, at least.

God, Arizona was pretty.

Maybe it was weird, she acknowledged inwardly, with a tilt of her head, but it wasn't uncomfortable weird. Which was good.

By the time she returned to the table, she was met with appraising blue eyes, and she paused before she sat down, tapping her finger against the table, "Uh. Is this weird?" And she cringed at herself, because that was not what she'd wanted to say.

Arizona licked her lips and she looked up at Callie with a thoughtful look, "A little," she answered honestly, "I mean. It's – you. I always thought your voice sounded familiar when we were on the phone. But I could never place it, and I just thought it was something I imagined. But you're you. If my friend April was here, she would be convinced that you purposefully maimed me outside of the bookstore, and that you were some sort of stalker."

Her snort of laughter was out before she could stop it, and she drew the attention of some of the fellow customers, "I purposefully maimed you? Does that mean you purposefully ran into me later, at the club?"

Arizona held up her hands, "Okay, it's a draw." In a move that was so quick Callie almost thought she imagined it, Arizona's eyes swept down her and then back up – honestly, maybe she had imagined it – and it was that easy to make her flush again. She purposefully kept her eyes on her face, not that it was any sort of hardship. The blonde's voice was low and considering as she shook her head, and admitted, "I really can't believe this. What are the odds?" And Callie remembered that she'd asked somewhat of the same question when they'd met that second time that day.

Callie reached down to pull out the seat before sliding into it, with a smug grin in place when Arizona's eyes met hers, which made her stomach to flip flop.

"It's fate."

The groan she got in response only made her smile bigger.

The big meeting! Which will obviously take more precedence in the next chapter, of course.

Please let me know what you think! I love reading all of your feedback, so much. And thank you for reading, as always.

Also, thank you to Victoria, who is incredible awesome. This story really wouldn't even exist without your input and encouragement. I don't thank you enough for reading all of my ideas even when they're weird and crazy, and letting me spoil you, even though you hate spoilers. So, thank you!