Dark Willow watched the battle between the two Buffy's dispassionately. There were emotions about the situation before, but it all seemed so in consequential. Tara might be alive in this world, but she was not her Tara and never would be, no matter what Dark Willow could do. She understood that. Her entire existence here was the result of the proverbial monkey's paw. She had no desire to fight Buffy, either of them, ever again. She understood how everything she had dedicated herself to was superfluous to the greater good, something she has tried to dedicate herself to so many years before.

Now, she watched as Buffy fought Buffy. She watched as copies of herself and her friends were ready to break in, but scared about what the other Buffy would do. Xander and Cordelia still dating. Dark Willow remembered those days. She watched as the Initiative. There would be no ADAM in this world; Maggie Walsh was no longer involved. Riley Finn would never become Buffy's lover. And this other person, this Drizzt, was interesting. Not human, but not a demon, something else. And he was trusted. And then she saw herself. Younger, still in high school. Not yet glimpsing the consequences of dabbling in dark magics. Her magic was different. Cleaner. She was still pure, innocent and naive.

The thought disturbed the Dark Willow, flying high above the city of Sunnydale, masking herself from radar and visual detection. 'Was this what I could have been?' she asked herself. 'Did I do this to myself or was I a victim of fate?'

The Question became 'how do I change my fate?'

The Answer was not lost.

In her old world, Dark Willow had killed the man who shot her lover, her beloved. She understood exactly what she had done. She knew this Tara would never be able to accept her, knowing what she had done, and this Tara knew. The passage of thought had passed both ways. Where Dark Willow had explored the recesses of Tara's mind, so had Tara explored hers. And so Dark Willow had looked at herself through the eyes of another.

And decided this world was worth saving.

Rack was the first to be taken care of. The sorcerer was easily drained and left a husk. She deposited the door way to the hidden realm in a wall in the Initiative. The Hollow would remain, and perhaps one day, they would find a better use for it. She could feel the magical auras of artifacts discovered in her past, but not here. The Ring of Amara, the Glove of Myhnegon, and others she was unfamiliar with. She could feel the magic in the air, in the land, and in the water. Everything was connected.

Absently, in the midst of all this, Dark Willow considered the possibility that she might well be insane. It was certainly probable.

And so she took the magic that permeated all things and wove it around herself, around the Willow of this world and around Sunnydale and around her friends and, especially, around Tara. There was no redemption for her, but there may be for others. This Weave was easy to manipulate, so permeable. So alive. It was then, after all that, everything that Dark Willow had done, everything that had happened, from the first floating of her pencil to the complete destruction of Warren Mears, only then did Dark Willow understand. Magic was alive. Magic had a name.

Mystra.

Dark Willow spoke to the Magic and Magic spoke to Willow.

Buffy and Copy-Buffy were hand in hand, their weapons discarded and their faces twisted in rage. Buffy could see so much of herself in this other Buffy. So much of what could have been. A creature who killed for the sake of killing.

"You make me sick," Copy-Buffy snarled as she kicked at Buffy's legs. The blond jumped up, letting the kick miss well beneath her. "You are a dirty little demon lover."

"Hey!" Buffy snapped, but then cocked her head as she thought about the statement. "It wasn't really that dirty. It was kinda nice until the morning after...and the next couple of months…when he killed Ms. Calendar…and then he tortured Giles…and then I had to sorta-kinda kill him…"

Her copy rebutted the statement with a fist to her cheek. There were a few quips here and there, but the fight was brutal than most Buffy had against vampires. This was not a cat fight. This was a battle. As they trampled old Mrs. Wentworth's hydrangeas and kicked up the Harrison's corn, the two Slayers saw themselves in the mirror. The disgust was mutual.

"How could you possibly sleep with a demon? A Vamp? Some dead thing crawling around for blood," Copy Buffy continued. "And I've been cleaning up your mess all day. I took out the floppy thing and the spiny creatures. And here I find out you are actually letting them live as humans? You people make me want to hurl."

"Hey! They have rights too!" Buffy struck out with a fist, catching the other Slayer right on a tire track. She was in luck, because the pain was still fresh and Copy-Buffy doubled over in pain. Instead of attacking again, Buffy stood in triumph. This was a mistake.

Copy-Buffy grinned, flipping the stone of the sidewalk up with one hand, tripping Buffy. Copy-Buffy took the advantage and kicked Buffy in the chest. Lifting up the chunk of sidewalk, Copy-Buffy bludgeoned her opponent until she heard the familiar snap of bone.

"Who's right now? You run me over with a car, you beat me to a bloody pulp, and I still win! Who's laughing now, bitch?" Buffy rolled over on the ground, holding her wounded hand, and snapped the bone back into place. She somersaulted around and grabbed the other slayer by the feet. The doppelganger slayer was cut off in mid taunt.

"Might makes right? Is that what you're saying?" Buffy held her hand close to her side, but wiped the blood from her lip. One of the punches had split her lip, but she couldn't remember which one. "Shut the hell up with that medieval crap."

Buffy was pretty sure that was when might made right, but she wasn't sure exactly.

She still let Copy-Buffy get back up. In their brief pause, both took inventory of their injuries. Buffy knew she was limited with a broken hand, but she was still better off than her opponent. Copy-Buffy was clearly worse off. Getting hit by a car had to hurt, even to a Slayer. Buffy noticed her opponent glance to her left. Buffy realized her copy was glancing at the knife that had been discarded earlier in the fight. Buffy looked at Copy Buffy. Buffy looked at the knife. Copy-Buffy looked into the original's eyes and then back at the knife.

And then Xander grabbed the knife and ran back towards the car. Copy-Buffy tried to follow, but was stopped by a quick punch to the chin from Buffy's good arm. Xander jumped in the passenger seat and Cordy slammed on the gas, peeling rubber as they got out of the fight. Willow watched from the back seat as she saw her friend and her doppelganger in a new light. Both were beings of magic and were the most beautiful beings she had ever seen.

Buffy glanced up to see them drive off, she turned back only to see empty space where her copy was supposed to be.

Copy Buffy had taken the distraction to escape. She knew she was loosing. There was no way she could have won against an opponent like that after the day she'd had. So she had slipped into the access tunnels that had not flooded and made her way along through the darkness. It wasn't long before she saw two glowing red eyes ahead of her.

The dark elf in front of her grinned. It was about time. He watched as the human struck out with a fist. He blocked with his scimitar, cutting the tendons and relished in the scream it provoked. He liked screams. This blonde might not be the challenge he hoped for, but she could be fun.

Above ground, not so far away, Drizzt and the Initiative agents had just come out of the forest passage. Drizzt watched as Riley gave orders to his teams. Drizzt sighed inwardly.

"Riley," the Drow said simply. "You're not going to catch him that way."

"Why not? He has to go somewhere," Riley said, a little confused at the dark elf's comment.

"You think like a human," Drizzt said in a tone one would use with a child who refused to understand the meaning of "no." He looked the taller man in the eyes for a moment before explaining. "You will never find him when you think as a human. He is a Drow which means far more than you can understand right now. I'm the only one who can find him and stop him."

"Because you're a Drow?" Forest was clearly not convinced.

"Yes," Drizzt replied simply.

"You already got your ass kicked twice by the guy," Graham reminded. Drizzt unconsciously touched the back of his head. It still smarted.

"But now I know what to expect," Drizzt said. "I thought he was just like me. He isn't. He's a mage as well, and possibly a thief, but that's not a problem. I can do this."

"So what are we supposed to do?" Riley said, not really wanting to send a kid out alone.

"Keep watch over any known place where the access tunnels reach the surface," Drizzt said as he pulled his Initiative vest on. "He's not coming up during the day. It hurts our eyes and keeps us nearly blind."

"So what are you going to do?" Forest asked the young elf.

"I'm going to find him," Drizzt said, stepping into the shadows and nearly vanishing from sight.

"Are you going to kill him?" Riley asked, but there was no response. Drizzt was already gone.

In the tunnels, Drizzt ran, careful to move as quietly as possible. He avoided puddles and debris. This was a section that still connected to the largely flooded sewers. He had seen plans for the city. Not all the tunnels were mapped out for what parts were flooded and which weren't but he had a guess. The graveyards and the University campus were perched on higher ground so their tunnels only flooded at the lowest levels. This was especially important for a clandestine base like the Initiative.

Somewhere, his sharp elven ears picked up the sound of screaming. As he sprinted forward, he realized it was Buffy. Or a Buffy. Either way, he knew the sadist in his counterpart couldn't resist. He had said as much. Turning a corner he sprinted. Turning another, he sprinted again. He was getting closer and closer to the source. Soon he heard his own voice cackle in a way he never did. Slowing down, he peered around a corner and noticed his double torturing Buffy in ways intended to hurt, but not wound. It was a trap. For him.

"You might as well come out now," his evil twin said. "It took you longer than I expected."

Drizzt stepped out. There was little normal light in the tunnels, but with infravision he could see the entire scene. Buffy's wounded body, his evil twin and the blood that dripped on the flood and quickly cooled to blue and then to black. The ambient heat lit up the walls with a faint blue. And he could see as his twin's swords cut through Buffy's neck. She slid lifelessly off the blades a moment later. She would still be warm for some time, but Drizzt knew she was dead.

"Are you finally ready?" The tone was that musical sadist tone he had heard so often growing up. Beautiful and deadly.

"Yes."

Drizzt looked at his double for a long moment. Ever so slowly, he moved his hand back so it was disguised by his body heat.

"You know, years ago, I would have never even considered a place like this," evil Drizzt said, waving his arm about. "It's a city that seems designed for two worlds, one on the surface and one below. You wouldn't believe some of the places I found. Places of Power. For a mage like myself, it's an incredible city. After you're dead, it might be well worth it taking this place for all I can."

"Impressive delusions of grandeur there," Drizzt said, inching his hand back farther, making sure to keep it too close to his body to discern well.

"It's funny really, me, you, here," The Evil Drizzt commented. "Two sides of the same coin. A choice here and a choice there. You are a traitor to your people, trash of the lowest kind. Me? I'm a national treasure. In one generation I moved my House from the lowliest of noble houses to the Second House, absorbing the resources of all below it. I instigated wars between houses and Do'Urden would come in to clean up the pieces, taking over both at once. House Baenre actually praised Matron Malice for keeping the peace of Menzoberranzan."

"You come from a sick world," Drizzt said.

"In my world, I am the hero, the good guy," Evil Drizzt said with a smirk. He brought up his swords to attack. "In this world, you are the bad guy. So when are you going to actually try to kill me?"

Drizzt said nothing as he reached back, drawing the blaster he had been given by Riley in one motion. He trained the weapon on his doppelganger and fired all in one motion. The energy shot out, knocking the Drow out cold.

"Good, Bad, I'm the elf with the gun," Drizzt said. He heard cheering from behind him and realized they were not alone.

"Good pop-culturely usage," Buffy said giving him a thumbs up. There was enough light so she could see with her slayer sight and she had just arrived, having followed the voices. "It's better if you say it when they're still awake."

"Are you sure? I wasn't quite clear on the whole Pop-culture aspect and the quips. You and Xander tried to explain it to me, but it's not me," Drizzt said, automaticly responding to the voice as he looed down at the elf he just shot.

Then he did a double take: "Wait, Buffy? But you're dead!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are! You're body's right over there!"

"What? You killed me!"

"No I didn't! He did!"

"You can't just kill me and blame it on somebody else!"

"Fine, The other me did it."

"Well, that's a little better," Buffy admitted. She was clearly unnerved out by the body wearing her face. "It's really creepy seeing me dead. I'm going to have nightmares for months."

Drizzt glanced back down at the other Buffy. It was strange, but it looked like she hadn't cooled at all. "Buffy, you might not be dead."

"Of course I'm not dead," Buffy said, pointing to her face. "I'm right here."

"Not you-you, her-you," Drizzt explained, pointing to the body. "And he's still alive too."

"Waaait! How do I know you're the real you?"

"You complain about my hair clogging the shower drain," Drizzt said testily.

"Oh, okay," Buffy said as if that explained everything. "But your hair really does clog everything up."

"It does not! I clean it up regularly!" Drizzt rebutted. "In fact, I clean it more than you do!"

As the argument continued, the Initiative agents listening in at the exits to the tunnels had mixed reactions varying from annoyance to amusement. Eventually, Agents Riley, Forest and Graham showed up with a couple of stretchers. "Are you two going to keep this going all day, or are you just waiting for the doppelganger to wake up?"

"Oh, yeah, that," Drizzt glanced down at his evil twin, squinted, and shot him again.

"Don't do that! You might have killed him!"

"Nah, he was waking up anyway," Buffy said. "Wait a minute, where's my body?"

The three Initiative agents glanced at each other in surprise.

"You're wearing it?" asked Graham, a little confused.

"Not MY, my body, Her my body," Buffy explained.

"Kid, that makes no sense at all," Forest stated flatly.

"But I'm gone!"

"I think she means the body of her doppelganger," Drizzt said. "The body which is right behind her…and isn't cooling."

"Is that strange?" Riley asked as he cuffed Drizzt's double.

"For a dead body, yeah," Drizzt said.

"Well, she's not dead, but she's not in good shape," Forest said, checking Copy-Buffy over. "Looks like had some cuts on her neck. Deep, but they look like old scars."

"They aren't old, it happened like ten minutes ago," Buffy said. She shivered at the sight of her own body dead in a heap.

"She must have regenerated the skin before she died," Drizzt suggested with a shrug.

"Graham, take them out, Forest take the dopple-Drizzt or whatever we're calling him," Riley commanded. "Team 2, I want those in holding cells. Strip them, check for suicide pills and the like and get the…girl to medical. Buffy, Drizzt, let's go." He turned back to the other two. "Why don't we head back to the Initiative and see if we can sort this all out."

The meeting at the Initiative included everyone involved in the mess from General Hennessey to the ambassadors involved. The quick response from the dwarven cleric had saved Kellindil's life, but it was a close call. He was being kept in bed, but they had set up a phone conference so his family could join in from his bedside. Alternate Xander had been moved to an Initiative cell for the time being. Elven Giles had chosen to participate, but people were not trusting of him when considering the actions of the others.

"What is the current situation with the doubles not accounted for," Hennessey asked with a grim tone.

"We don't know exactly," Giles began. "We are unable to find Willow's doppelganger. She seems to have simply vanished from the face of the earth."

"And mine is still at large," Cordelia said proudly.

"Cordy, we don't even know if you've got one," Willow said.

"Of course I have one! I'm part of the gang!" the brunette protested. Xander, in a remarkable show of restraint held back the snide comment that popped into his head, choosing instead to simply rest a calming hand on her arm.

"Cordy, why don't we find out where she went after the meeting?" he said diplomatically. She appeared to be mollified by the suggestion.

"Getting back to business," the general prompted, hiding his amusement with a huff. "What about the others?"

"As you can see, my double is right here, and Xander's is currently in his cell," Giles explained. "Drizzt's doppelganger is sedated and locked away in a private cell in chains."

"That might not keep him. I recommend a guard make rounds every five minutes and constant visual observation," Drizzt said.

"Are you really that dangerous?" Riley asked. "He's unarmed, he's alone and he's being kept in bright light to block his vision."

"He is not me. I can only cast the most rudimentary spells," Drizzt explained. "He is an accomplished wizard, fighter and I suspect, thief. You have to be prepared for anything. Your people might be trained to deal with some demons, but my people are worse than most demons. He," Drizzt emphasized the word strongly, "has potential to be VERY dangerous."

Riley simply nodded and glanced at an agent. "Do it." The agent ran off to make sure everything was completed.

"What about Ms. Summers' copy?" inquired General Hennessey.

"Her regenerative abilities were able to stop the neck wound, but the damage was already done. Blood loss is not something someone can simply ignore and regeneration does not replace it, only time can. She is currently brain dead, but her body is in remarkably healthy condition," Dr. Chung explained. "She should have died even without the neck wound. She had suffered massive trauma repeatedly; realistically, she should not have been able to move like that. She was either ignoring the pain, or kept fighting in spite of it. The truth is, I do not know enough about the physiological aspects of Ms. Summers Slayer abilities to really determine her reactions."

"No matter, we shall still give her a proper burial," Giles said. "Now what should we do with the matter of Willow's double. We understand she attacked young woman in town. However…"

"However we don't know where she is or even how to contain her," Riley finished for him. "We need magical training."

"Yes, I am making that a priority," Giles said quietly.

"If you don't mind, would it be possible for me to get sent back to my world?" the Alternate Giles asked, raising his hand. "I have obligations that I must attend to."

"We shall see what we can do," Giles said. The other Giles bowed his head slightly in thanks. The Real Giles glanced around at the table. "Perhaps we should discuss the future of this facility while we are here."

Suggestions and possibilities were tossed around deep into the night.

That night, far to the south along the Delimbyr River, one werewolf and three vampires prepared to leave the temple of Selune. They had packed new supplies which included waterskins of blood enchanted with an anticoagulation spell. Why there was an anticoagulation spell, none of them knew, but they managed to pick up a few scrolls for later use. Just as they were about to leave, they were summoned into the main chamber by a lesser priestess.

"So, what's with this? I thought we were leaving," Spike said, rubbing a wound on his neck. He had attempted to get a midday snack, but that particular priestess had simply tapped him with her holy symbol. Hours later, the mark still burned.

"She would like to speak with you once more," said an Initiate. "This way please."

The four arrived in the central prayer room for the second time. The head priestess was sitting on a throne in the middle of the room. The entire priesthood stood together, flanking her on either side. Each one wore plate armor that seemed to sparkle with moonlight. Oz was impressed; Angel felt intimidated; Spike was pissed and Drusilla, well, Drusilla simply skipped and clapped her hands in giddiness.

"I am most displeased," the priest said from her throne. "William, despite my warning you attacked an initiate. For that you shall be punished. From now until I deem otherwise, my mark will burn you whenever you harm an innocent. It shall feel like the pain of a thousand suns on your skin."

"Like Hell, you bloody-Aaargh!" Spike clutched his neck and struggled to stand. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"Uh, as much as Spike is an idiot, why are we here?" Angel asked, pointing to Oz, Drusilla and himself.

"I have seen your actions and chosen to act upon them," the woman said. "I know of what you seek. Both of you. Serve me and you shall be rewarded."

"What about Dru?" Angel glanced at the maddened vampire who seemed pumped up on fangirl drugs. "She's not the most stable of people."

"As an Oracle, Drusilla already serves me," the woman said. "How say you?"

"Cool," said Oz. "I'm in."

"I guess I will agree to it," Angel said, still unconvinced. The woman smiled and strode over to them. She suddenly seemed much taller than that morning. She seemed to shimmer. She pressed a hand to Oz's chest and a cool power seemed to flow into him. As she lifted her hand away, Oz suddenly realize he had been holding his breath. He sucked in a new chest full of air and released it, feeling clean as if he had bathed for the first time in months.

The woman moved to Angel. With a sad smile on her face, she did the same to the vampire with a soul. There was no cool power. Instead was a moonlit night with the agonies of everything he had ever done as Angelus: the torture, the murders, the mental corruptions, the twisted artistic nature of his demon; and called up the shame of everything he did as a human: the debauchery, the drunkenness, the disregard for his family, every sin flashed before him in an instant. Her hand felt like burning ice on his chest. She stepped away from them and smiled. "You have my blessing, go."

What happened next was one of the most remarkable sights anyof them had ever seen. The sky opened up through the ceiling clearing the clouds from the moon, bathing the room in pale moonlight that seemed to sparkle like silver on the armor of the priestesses. The four monsters looked to the moon and back at the clergy as the priestesses shed their mortal disguises and transformed into the Shards of the Moon, semidivine protectors of the Moon Maiden. Their wings snapped out as one and they took to the sky. Their wings sounded like thunder in the room that suddenly seemed too small. Selune looked upon them for a long moment before fading into a moonbeam and returned home.

Angel looked at Oz, then at Spike and then at Drusilla. "How long have you two known?" he asked, pointing to Oz and Dru.

"Since she started quoting Shakespeare," Oz replied.

"Since the Stars first whispered to me," was all Drusilla would say. She never took her eyes off the moon.

"And you didn't tell me?"

Still deep beneath the surface, another group was meeting in conference. Bregan D'aerthe scouts had reported another dead end.

"That is the third one in the area," Dinnin Do'Urden cursed. Jarlaxle looked on in amusement. "Why can't this infernal trek be over?"

"Brother, you should have more faith," his sister cautioned from behind him. The male quickly came to attention at the sound of her voice. "I was correct. This is the way, however, it was clear when I last communed. Someone has made a concerted effort to impede my progress. Have faith, Brother." With that, she turned and wandered back to the main camp. Dinnin spun, looking at his boss with complete confusion.

"Did you see that? She is insane!" the former second boy of House Do'Urden said in a hissed whisper. "Why are we still on this quest?"

"After what we saw? An Avatar destroyed Houses because House Baenre ignored her missive. Should I just go back and say 'oops, it was too hard and by the way, Lloth's favored priestess is a few scrolls short of a spellbook.' Is that what you're thinking?" the mercenary leader said with amusement. He snorted and sported a feral grin. "I'm sure you could march home and tell them for me. I'll stay here and wait for you to come back."

"Very funny," Dinnin muttered as he sat on a rock. He took his boss' offered flask and took a swig. "Any other priestess would have flayed the skin off my back and let me braid it myself after what I said. And what does she do? 'Have faith Brother' I have a real bad-"

"Do not finish that sentence," Jarlaxle cautioned. "There is no need to make this any worse."

"So what are we to do? Blast our way out? Hike on the surface? Neither sound like a good solution to me," Dinnin said as he passed the flask back. "Why do we need to find the little terror, anyway?"

"Lloth's will is Lloth's will," intoned the mercenary mysteriously.

Far above the city of Sunnydale, long after the sun had set, Dark Willow felt her counterpart fall asleep. She could feel everything, it was all connected.

Watching with magic, Dark Willow had seen Drizzt's evil twin kill Buffy's copy. She had seen everything. Magic was everywhere and so, in a way, Willow could be everywhere.

"Yee have a fine city, lass," said a man's voice from next to her. She glanced over to see a white-bearded man hovering next to her, his robes flapping in the strong wind. Puffing on his pipe, he grinned at her. "You aren't surprised to see me, are yee, lass?"

"No." The magic had let her know his approach.

"Not surprised, one of your power, and so young too," The older man said. "There has not been one like yerself in some time, or so I hear. The last one was long before my time."

"There will be another," Dark Willow said, her voice a little numb.

"No, lass. There already is another," Elminster commented, pointing at the town with his pipe. "The little one knows it not for now, but she shall soon."

Dark Willow said nothing.

"The Chosen." He said it like the words explained everything. "She Chose ye today. I'm here to explain what that means."

"I don't deserve it," Dark Willow said, the emotion strong in her voice.

"If that is how ye feel, then it is good She is the one who Chooses and not yerself," the old mage said with a chuckle.

"And Chosen means something quite different in Sunnydale," Dark Willow. "You should be more careful of your words. I know of at least one person living in that town who would take exception to them."

"Ah, the Slayer, yes, we've met, though I doubt she would remember," he said as if laughing at some private joke. "She has gods fighting over her already. I doubt she would approve."

"She never did like destiny or prophesy," Dark Willow said a slight smile tugging at her mouth.

"Few do, lass, few do."

"So, what does a Chosen do, exactly?"

"That's what I'm here to explain," Elminster said with a grin.

In another part of Sunnydale, a man in a suit walked into a crypt. He grinned as he bypassed the illusion disguising the entrance to the Master's hovel. Recognizing him, the guarding vampires hissed and quickly stepped out of the way. The man straightened his coat and walked boldly up to the cambion who had taken residence in the cave.

"Knock, knock, anyone home?" Richard Wilkins III asked. The Tiefling and sucubi hissed in surprise at the sound of a human's voice in the crypt.

"Interesting, how did you get past the guards?" the cambion asked, concerned about his own wellbeing.

"Bah! They have been around long enough to know who really runs this town," Wilkins said with a grin. He held out a hand to the fiend. "And that would be me: Richard Wilkins, Mayor of Sunnydale."

"Kaanyr Vhok, the Sceptered One, formerly leader of the Scoured Legion," the cambion said, taking the proffered hand. The mayor had a good grip, almost too good for a normal human.

"A pleasure to meet you," the Mayor said. "I have been making an effort to connect with all our new arrivals. You are a hard man to track down. Very nice misdirection spell on the cave here, but that doesn't really work on people who know it's here."

"I will have to keep that in mind," the cambion said, offering a glass of wine to the man. "What can I do for the illustrious Mayor of Sunnydale?"

"Actually, I wanted to offer you a job," the Mayor said with a grin. The fiend raised an intrigued eyebrow and saluted the mayor before taking a sip of his wine.

"Well, forgive me, if I had known this would be an interview, I would have worn something more appropriate," the cambion commented before motioning the man to sit down.

"I am truly impressed, hospitality is so rare these days," the Mayor said, the grin widening.