Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf. I only own my characters and plot. If you recognize it, I don't own it.

The Unexpected

Chapter Six: Oozing, Slimy, Crimson Blood


The last time Cara was in this jeep, she never would have thought she would end up here, in this moment. That this boy, who she never could have found herself even being friends with, would be questioning her like this. Making her decide between giving the truth and knowing the truth. Giving her an ultimatum. Especially after he kept something so big, so bizarre, so confusing, from her. She doesn't even know what this is about. Drugs? A gang? She didn't know. But, she wasn't about to let him turn this around on her. Sure, she kept things from Stiles, but they weren't things like this. No, she wasn't going to let him off easy.

Fuck. That.

"Okay, sure, I don't exactly tell you and Scott every single thing that's going on in my fucked up life. And yeah, I've lied to you. But that night in the rain, you didn't ask. You didn't ask about why I was there or why I wasn't going anywhere. And I thought that was our silent agreement, that you would let me have that. That you wouldn't ask. And I did the same for you. But right now, there's a man with a bullet inside of him sitting in your passenger seat and I would like to know what the hell is going on!" She nearly screeched. Adrenaline pushed through her veins, surging to thrum in her ear drums. Stiles' mouth was parted slightly, he wasn't expecting that. Heat started building in his ears and cheeks and he wished he wouldn't have said anything. At least he wished he wouldn't have said it the way he did.

Derek pretended he wasn't in the passenger seat of this car, that he wasn't hearing this right now. That he hadn't heard what she said. For the first time since he was shot, he focused on the pain rather than what was going on around him.

"I-I," Stiles stuttered. It was silent for a moment. All that was heard was Cara's and Derek's heavy breathing. Hers in anger, his in pain. Until there was a honk from behind them, making Stiles hurry to step on the gas, causing Cara to jolt back slightly. But her grip on the seats in front of her made it nearly impossible to even jostle her a little bit. "I'm sorry."

"No, okay. You had no right to say any of that. I don't tell you what's going on with me because I don't want to. I don't want you and Scott to feel sorry for me. I don't want you guys to pity me. I can take care of myself fine." Heat started building up on the back of Cara's neck from the excitement. She leaned back to strip off her sweatshirt, revealing a grey tank top. And she figured, while I'm back here might as well fix my goddamn hair too. She pulled the tie from her hair to readjust the placement of her wildly curly locks so they weren't resting against her hot neck.

"I know you can take care of yourself, trust me, I know." He shook his head, rubbing a hand up the side of his face. "I-I just, I don't know. Thought that you needed help. Or-god-I don't know. I just hatedseeing you so upset all the time. And I hate asking you what's wrong and hearing you lie right to my face. L-Like I'm good enough to know what's going on in the life of Cara Rodgers."

"Oh, give me a break, Stiles." Cara scoffed, leaning more over the console to argue with Stiles. "You think I'm not hurt that you haven't told me about what's going on right now? That you are dragging me to wherever we're going and you aren't telling me anything. You can't just make me tag along and then not tell me what's going on." Her eyes were locked on the side of his face, watching his jaw clench and un-clench. Clenched. Un-clenched. Clenched. Un-clenched. Clenched. Un-clenched. And then:

"Scott's a werewolf." He blurted. Cara blinked. And blinked again. And again. A werewolf? Like... Like Lon Chaney Jr? Like freaking Larry Talbot. Is he shitting me? She took a few deep breaths. Counted to ten. So many rated R words were shooting around her mind, she was afraid they would burst out of her ears. All she wanted was the truth.

"Stop the car."

"Whoa, whoa. What, why?" Stiles burbled, looking back at Cara in panic. Afraid something was wrong.

"If you're gonna joke around when there is a man sitting in your passenger seat, who was shot, than I don't want to be in this car with you." Stiles sighed, pulling the jeep over to rest on the shoulder of the road. Cara sat up, hoodie in hand, ready to run when Stiles moved his seat.

"I'm not joking, Cara." He said, resting both his hands on the steering wheel, balled up in fists. "Okay? I know it's hard to believe and I know you're probably going to want nothing to do with me. But just listen to me for a second. Scott's a werewolf and Derek's a werewolf and-"

"Who's Derek?" The man in the passenger seat raised his uninjured hand, silently wincing.

"That would be me, bleeding out. Shot. Dying. No big deal, take your time. Sort this out." Cara's frantic eyes shot to Stiles, lightly pushing his seat to convey how badly she wanted out of this suddenly confining jeep.

"B-Bleeding out? As in you're bleeding?" She asked, a scared undertone sneaking into her speech. "Like, you're bleeding right now?" Cara's hands began to shake, but she didn't realize it. The only thing on her mind was: blood, blood, blood, blood.

"Yes, that's the exact definition of bleeding out." Derek deadpanned, feeling the look of disdain on Stiles face. Cara didn't even notice his sarcasm. Blood. Oozing. Blood. Slimy. Blood. Crimson. Blood.

"Hey, okay, alright. Let's just take it down a few notches, take a few deep breaths." Stiles said, slowly stepping on the gas pedal while reaching into his pocket for his phone. "I'm gonna call Scott. See if he found your magic bullet yet." Cara's shaking hands moved to cradle her stomach. She could smell the coppery, rusty smell and feel the sliminess all over her hands and she could picture what a bullet wound looks like on real human skin, up close and personal. And thought about how the man sitting in front of her has an open wound, blood probably running down his arm, red and thick. All of a sudden, she started to feel really queasy.

"Sti-"

"Hang on, I'm gonna text him." Stiles declared after Scott didn't answer his phone the first few times he tried. Stiles knew exactly what Scott was doing. After all, he was the one who put him up to it. It irked Stiles beyond belief that Scott was probably groping a boob at this very moment while he was stuck here ruining his and Cara's friendship and dealing with a more sarcastic than usual Derek. He looked down at his phone, using one hand to steer. Need more time. Stiles sighed, throwing his phone to the side.

"Stiles." Cara said, holding her rumbling tummy with one hand and cradling her mouth with the other.

"Yeah?" He asked, his irritation bleeding out.

"I need to get out of the car."

"Look Cara, I know you don't believe me right now but I just need some time to-"

"No, seriously I think I'm gonna be sick." Stiles looked back at Cara, his eyes wide. It only took him a second to take in her sallow face, her sweaty brow, and her trembling hands. His foot was on the break the second he could get it there. He scrambled out to lift his seat up, taking Cara's hand to help her out of the backseat. She bounded to the curb, keeled over, and felt her gut retch. Well, after Stiles sees me puke I don't think I'll be embarrassed about him seeing my trailer, at least. The contents of her lunch: a turkey and cheese sandwich, apple sauce, and a pint of strawberry milk, was dumped from her mouth in a smelly, detest cocktail of pink and brown chunks. Both Stiles and Derek looked away from her, feeling suddenly nauseous at the sight. After all the contents of her stomach were emptied onto the grass patch besides the curb, Cara stood back up. Straight and tall. She might have thrown away all the bile in her stomach, but she didn't throw away her dignity. With her head held high, she walked back over to the jeep, holding a hand out to feel the cold, blue metal on her clammy palm.

"Feeling better now?" Derek snarled, feeling the pain in his arm intensify, taking a deep inhale.

"Hey, will you lay off." Stiles held his arm out towards Derek, as if to deflect the negative vibes he was shooting at Cara.

"Yeah, no, I'm great. Not slowly bleeding to death or anything."

"Just, please don't bleed out on my seats, okay. We're right around the block from the reserve. We'll be to your house in no time."

"What? No, you can't take me there." Derek rasped, thinking about each breath as he takes it.

"I can't take you to your own house?" Stiles asked, incredulously. Derek shook his head.

"Not when I can't protect myself." Stiles rolled his eyes and huffed, stepping closer to the jeep so he could talk out of ear shot of Cara. Although, yelling in frustration didn't make it hard for her to listen in.

"What happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet? Hmm? Are you really dying?"

"Not yet. I have a last resort."

"What do you mean? What last resort?" Stiles demanded, flailing his arms. Derek lifted his shirt sleeve to reveal a bullet hole on his forearm. Pus and blood oozed from the open wound, trailing down his arm and off his hand onto his lap and the floor of the jeep.

"Oh, my, god. What is that?" Stiles heaved, shielding his eyes from the grotesque sight. "Oh, is that contagious?"

"Get in, both of you." Derek rasped, his eyes flashing blue again. Stiles looked back at Cara, and then back at Derek's arm. Sighing and ignoring the halfhearted protests, Stiles led Cara to the backseat of the jeep and hopped in himself. "Start the car, now."

"Okay, wait, I don't think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay? In fact, I think if I wanted to, I could drag your little werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead."

"Start the car," Derek started, taking a breath. "Or I'm gonna rip your throat out. With my teeth."

"Oh, god." Cara muttered as Stiles reluctantly looked back to the road in front of him. Between the grogginess from throwing up, the confusion from everything Stiles said before throwing up, and the heat in the jeep, Cara was a hot mess. Emphasis on hot. It was boiling, at least to Cara, it was. Stiles started the jeep. "St-Stiles, please put the windows down or something." She breathed. Stiles looked behind him at Cara, and for the second time, noticed how terribly sick she truly was.

"Cara are you feeling alright?" He asked, but Cara didn't hear him. Darkness was swallowing up her eyesight and before she completely passed out, her head fell against the glass of the window on her left.


"Cara! Stop running in the house!" Susan yelled, swatting her bleached blonde bangs from her forehead while also trying to balance the land line between her shoulder and her cheek. The pots on the stove steamed and whistled over the red hot burners. Cara and a cousin she rarely ever hears from anymore ran around the living room fighting over who got to be Tinkerbell in their game of Peter Pan: how the movie should have gone. It was a typical Sunday in the Locke/Rodgers household. "Yeah mom, I know I know. Just hurry up, dinner's gonna be done by the time you get here."

"It's not my fault traffic is a bitch, Suse. There's a detour or something, I feel like I'm in rush hour. How's the chicken doing?"

"Alright, I think. I don't know what golden brown is supposed to look like on a chicken. How dark should it be? Cause if what I'm thinking of is right, the chicken's done."

"Well, when did you put it in?" Loise asked her daughter, making Susan scrunch her eyebrows and peer up at the clock.

"About 45 minutes ago, I think, maybe"

"The chicken's definitely not done," A sigh was heard through the receiver. "Just wait 'till I get there."

"Whatever mom."

"Don't you whatever me ,Susan Marie. You're not too old to be smacked by your mother." Susan stifled her laugh, stirring a pot that contained milk, half and half, chicken stock, potato chunks, and other herbs and spices, clueless.

"Sorry mother."

"I'm hanging up now."

"Love you,"

"Oh shut up," The line went dead and Susan reached over to put the phone back on the hook on the wall. Thundering feet rumbling through the house were heard, making the cups and plates on the counter rattle.

"Cara I swear to god! Stop that running! I'm not gonna tell you again!" She yelled, slamming her hand on the counter. Wow, I need a smoke. The feet stopped for only a minute before the girls couldn't stay put any longer. They ran from room to room, chasing each other all throughout the house. "For heavens sake!"

"Suse, stop yelling at the poor kids." Zach told her, walking in from having a smoke break outside. "They're just having fun." She looked over at Zach from the stove and sighed, rubbing her forehead with the back of the hand that was holding her lucky wooden spoon.

"I know, I know. But the constant running is making me tired." Zach smiled, walking over to wrap his arms around his disheveled girlfriend, who might as well be his wife. He just never popped the question. Didn't think he had to. A wedding wouldn't make them a family, Cara already did that for them.

"They're kids, babe."

"I know that, I just wish I could ship them outside like my mom used to do to me."

"We agreed that we weren't gonna be like our parents." He reminded her, gently. The day Susan found out she was pregnant, that she was going to be a mother, she vowed to never be like her own mom. Zach agreed to do the same for hus parents. Both of them didn't have really have "parents". Susan has never met her father, but is told by her mom that he was a disgusting excuse of a man. Always drunk, high, and addicted to gambling. As far as Loise is concerned, Susan didn't need him in her life. But her mom on the other hand, always seemed to be there. Whether it was to tell her she was doing something wrong, tell her she was a screw up, or to just stand over her shoulder to criticize every decision she made. And if she wasn't there, she was out scouring the town to find a new husband and father. Bringing home men at all hours of the night, and day. Admittedly, she never put up with their bullshit, and wasn't afraid to kick them to the curb if they made a wrong move, that didn't stop Loise from making Susan meet every single man that passed the threshold.

Zach, on the other hand, had both of his parents in his life. Both, lousy, abusive, and drug addicted parents. His mom and dad cared more about crack cocaine than him, it had always been that way. He can remember one day when he was eight, his parents wouldn't let him come home because their dealer didn't like kids. Zach moved out of his house when he was 15. Was homeless for a few months. Begging at the front desk of any establishment that would let this matted and dirty boy through the door to give him a job. When he finally got a job mowing lawns at a law firm (the owner himself was from an abusive background, and wished someone would have been there for him while he was struggling), and was able to get his GED and rent a crappy apartment. That's when he met Susan.

They met while she was taking two paper bags full of groceries up to the apartment that her and her mother shared. He saw her grappling to hold them and unlock the door at the same time, and couldn't resist helping a damsel in distress. They talked, clicked, and the rest, they say, was history.

"That's exactly why I haven't made them go outside. Besides, they haven't caught that guy yet."

"You are such a worry-wort."

"I won't have my kid, or Ashley, snatched up by some crazy pervert and if that makes me a worry-wort then so be it." Zach smiled at Susan, and leaned in to kiss her. She smiled, turning back to the stove. "Speaking of parents, my mom will be here soo-" A loud obnoxious knocking was heard from the kitchen, inducing a sigh from Susan.

"Speak of the devil."

"Hello? Suse? Zach?" Zach and Susan shared a knowing look before letting out matching sighs. "Where are the fucking parents in this god forsaken house?"

"In here mom!"

"Oh, thank god. You know, I had to take Smith all the way here? Can't take Mills to Jefferson, closed off. Stupid effing city council passed that road repair bullshit. If my Ford can make it over those bumps then their prissy asses can take their goddamn Mazda Miata's over them."

"Nice to see you too, mom." Loise waved her hand as she made her way into the kitchen, dropping her coat and tote bag on a dining chair as she went.

"Yeah, yeah. Now let me see this chicken." Susan moved out from in front of the stove to let her mother take a peek into the oven.

"This is a terrible idea," Zach sang into Susan's ear, pursing his lips. In the door for 30 seconds and Loise already gave him a headache. Susan batted Zach's abdomen lightly, giving him a perilous look.

"So, how's it look mom?" Susan asked, craving a compliment of some kind from her cold mother. She craves them like a heroine addict craves heroine, has since she was a little girl. Her lip was between her teeth in anticipation and she scratched her palm in apprehension.

"Eh, could use a little more seasoning on the top and some more juice in pan. Might come out a little dry, if you ask me." Loise said callously with a shrug. Susan sighed out of her nose, feeling Zach's comforting hand rub her shoulder. Loise looked up at her daughter, noticing the look on her face. "But, it's okay."

"Thanks mom," Susan replied graciously around a breath. Before anyone could say anything else, Cara and Ashley came running animatedly into the kitchen.

"But Tink! I love you, not Wendy! Come back!" Ashley yelled, reaching a stiff hand towards the blonde.

"No, Peter, if you couldn't notice how much cooler and prettier I am than Wendy than you don't deserve to be my friend! Now leave me!" Cara proclaimed, throwing a dramatic hand across her forehead.

"Will you two crazy girls stop talking that gibberish and come give your grandma a hug." Loise said over the carefully scripted rendition of Peter Pan.

"Grandma!" Both girls chimed, forgetting about their game to throw their tiny arms around their grandma's neck.

"I missed you!" Ashley said, giggling. Loise laughed and patted her head.

"I missed you too, Ash." She said, smiling at the small red head girl. Most of the girls on that side of the family have red hair. Susan was shunned for a few months when she decided to bleach it. A red head's hair is never the same after it's bleached. And that red hair was the pride of the family. "And Cara of course."

"Did you bring us what you promised?" Cara asked, not one for foolish babble.

"Hmm, did I bring what I promised?" She muttered, letting go of both girls to walk over to her tote bag. "Did I, did I, did I. Hmm." She dug through it for a moment before pulling out two miniature plush dogs. One was dull white and had course hair sticking out in all different directions, while the other was a rich auburn color, with silky fur swooping down to its feet. The white one was handed to Cara, the auburn one to Ashley. "There you go girls."

"But these aren't real, grandma!" Cara said, looking up at her graying grandmother with disdain. "You promised they were gonna be real!" Susan looked back from where her and Zach were standing by the stove.

"You said you were going to get them dogs, Mom?" Susan asked in disbelief. Zach reached over to rub her arm.

"Oh, shut up Suse. I wasn't really gonna." Loise reasured, waving her hand carelessly. Susan's eyes widened, running the thin digits of her left hand through her course blonde hair.

"Mom!"

"Oh my gosh!"

"What?"

"Oh my god, are you kidding me?"

"Mom what are you-"

"Goddammit."


"Goddammit." Stiles said, throwing his phone on the floor again. Cara tried to shake off the dream. Shake off the feeling of nostalgia and longing. Longing to have that life again. Longing to have her dad again. Longing for a time when her mom hadn't turned into grandma Loise. Because those were pipe dreams that she would never have. Cara looked around. At first, she was confused as to why she was sitting in the backseat of a mysterious car. But she sat up, and took in the two people sitting in front of her. And sighed in relief. It was dark outside and it wasn't as hot as when she fell asleep and it smelt like death. She coughed, making Stiles look back at her.

"Cara! Hey, you're awake. Have a nice nap?"

"Hmm. What the hell is that smell?"

"Ha, um, that would be the decaying werewolf in my passenger seat." Cara rubbed her eyes, wishing to dispel what Stiles just said from entering her ears. He's still on that?

"Where are we?" She asked then, looking around at the trees and grass around them. No landmarks that would tell her where they are, idling on the side of the road.

"Sitting on the shoulder of Carlton. Waiting for Scott to stop being such an idiot." Just as he said that, his phone lit up from the floor, vibrating and blaring some stupid ringtone that made Cara's foggy head hurt.

"Scott! Scott, Scott, Scott. Thank you for finally dragging your sorry ass away from your beautiful girlfriend to freaking call me!" Stiles said, sitting up straighter at attention while holding his phone to his left ear.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. How's Derek?" Cara could hear Scott ask.

"Awful. What am I supposed to do with him?" Stiles asked right back, not ready to take any of Scott's shit. Derek felt like a kid in a custody disagreement, being carted from parent to parent. Having no say in what happens to him.

"Take him somewhere. Anywhere." Scott sounded anxious, scared. Stiles sighed.

"And by the way, he's starting to smell." Cara could drink to that.

"L-Like what?"

"Like death!" Cara called into the phone behind Stiles ear. Stiles had to use all his willpower not to shiver after feeling her hot breath on his red earlobe.

"W-Who was that? Was that Cara?" Scott hissed.

"Yeah?" Stiles replied unsure, shrugging. Cara leaned her head against the seat and closed her eyes.

"She's still with you?! What the hell, why didn't you take her home?" Scott sounded even more anxious.

"She got sick and passed out! I'm not a telepath, Scott." The sound of a deep sigh crackled through the phone.

"Oh my- okay okay, just," He paused. "Take Derek to the animal clinic."

"What about your boss?"

"He's gone by now; there's a spare key in the box behind the dumpster." Exhaling a deep breath of warm air, Stiles passed his phone off to Derek.

"You're not gonna believe where he's telling me to take you." Derek took the phone and felt the cool plastic screen against his hot cheek.

"Did you find it?" Derek inquired, feeling his breath scratch against his throat as he took each demanding breath.

"How am I supposed to find one bullet?" Scott said, beseeching. "They have a million. This house is like the freaking Wal-Mart of guns."

"Look, if you don't find it then I'm dead, alright?"

"Starting to think that wouldn't be such a bad thing." Scott proclaimed, making Cara chuckled. Derek wasn't exactly the cuddly teddy bear type. And after the attitude he's given her today, she wouldn't mind watching him sweat this out.

"Then think about this," Derek started, breathing deeply. "The alpha called you out against your will. And he's gonna do it again. Next time, you either kill with him, or you get killed. So if you wanna stay alive then you need me." Cara shut her eyes tightly, pretending she didn't hear what she just heard. What the hell does he mean by alpha? Why does he want Scott to kill? Why will he kill Scott if he doesn't kill with him? What does any of this mean? And more importantly, why the hell am I buying into it? "Find the bullet." Derek tapped the end button with a shaky hand and handed it carelessly back to Stiles.

"So, what are we-"

"Drive."

"Okay."


"Can I please just stay in the car?" Cara asked Stiles as he reached behind a big green dumpster, sensing that Derek was going to let his open wound out to breath, and she wanted to be as far away as possible. "Please?"

"Cara, I'm not leaving you out here by yourself. Just come on, I'll take you home as soon as Derek is all sorted out." He replied after pulling out a small, metal, forest green box.

"By sorted out do you mean not dying?" Stiles gave Derek a look before opening the box to retrieve a single key.

"So, are you guys seriously gonna keep to this whole werewolf story?" Cara inquired, watching Stiles unlock a large sliding door in the far back of the building. "Because I might have been distracted by puking and passing out earlier but now you guys are just freaking me out." Derek looked at the blonde from the wall he was gaining support from and snarled.

"Look, I know it's hard to swallow and everything but I don't have time to listen to you wine. There is a wolfsbane bullet lodged in my forearm and if Scott isn't here soon with that bullet you and your spastic BFF are going to be dragging a dead werewolf out to the reserve to bury. So please, shut up." Derek sucked in a ragged breath, clutching his arm painfully.

"Alright, alright, shut it, both of you." Stiles intervened, looking regretfully at Cara."Let's just get inside and worry about everything else when this is over." Stiles bent down to unlock the padlock holding the door closed and lifted it up. There was a small room behind it that had various different types of animal foods and cages, and there was another door than presumably led to the actual clinic. Derek barreled in and collapsed against the far wall, on top of a pile of sacks of animal food, breathing raggedly. Cara followed behind unsure, holding her arms across her chest. "Does Nordic Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?" Stiles directed at Derek, reading off his phone.

"It's a rare form of wolfsbane." Derek said, breathing between each syllable. "He has to bring me the bullet."

"Why?"

"Cause I'm gonna die without it." Derek and Stiles shared a look for a moment before Stiles turned quickly to open the door into the clinic. Stiles guided Derek through the halls and past the waiting room and into the operating room, Cara following behind, much less urgent.

"Kay, okay." Stiles said, turning the overhead lights on. Derek already had his shirt off(showing off his impressive torso), and had his injured arm up on the cold, metal table.

"You know that really doesn't look like anything some Echinacea and a good night sleep couldn't fix." Stiles stammered. Cara turned from her inspecting of the line of animal x-rays hanging on the light panel.

"Oh- holy shit." Cara exclaimed, turning away from the vision of blood and pus oozing from an inch wide hole that was surrounded by thick, black veins drawing a spurs diagram of lines all along his arm.

"You don't like blood?" Derek asked her, clenching and un-clenching his hand to every thrum of pain.

"Nope." She said, feeling a warm coppery smell invade her nostrils. Not again.

"Well then you're really not gonna like this." Derek said, turning to look through the drawers located all around the room. "When the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me."

"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles asked, watching the back of Cara's head to make sure she doesn't turn around.

"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time," Derek grunted. "Last resort."

"Which is?" Derek looked back at Stiles, just as Cara turned back around to see what Derek was doing, he held up an electric bone saw.

"You're gonna cut off my arm."

Cara passed out. Again.


A/N

Oops, I put up the chapter a day early. My bad. And I figured that since the last few chapters have been so short I'd give you guys a break and actually write something I'm proud of.
School started for me about three weeks ago and it's been hitting me pretty hard. I'm in a thing called NTHS, which gives me opportunities to find colleges right for me(and requires monthly meetings) and I'm in my school's French Club. Very exciting. But, unfortunately, that means that I'm not at home as much as I used to be. Mark my words, though, I will not let this story fade away. I have worked far too hard to do that. I will do my absolute best to keep the the schedule I have now (which is updating every Saturday, in case you didn't know).
Make sure you go to my tumblr (stilesofassgard) to check out the sneak peek for the next chapter. That should be up very, very soon. Plus, if I'm behind on an update, you can find out first there. Or you can contact me through tumblr to get an immediate response to a question or concern, versus waiting for me to go on here and manually look at my PM's, which will take longer.
Thank you to everyone who has read up to this point. Thank you to the 34 favorite-ers and the 64 followers. Thank you to the 13 people who have reviewed. I appreciate everything so much.

-blahicantthinkofaname xoxo