Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Chapter Seventeen:

Richard "Dick" Simmons was currently out jogging through the streets of Chorus. He hadn't been able to do one of his favorite pastimes for a while on account of the increase of foot and vehicular traffic thanks to the mercenaries and Hargrove's men, but things had finally gotten into a normal enough routine where he could again.

Truthfully, the redhead was grateful for the opportunity to go for a solo run, as being on his own for a little while helped him to put things into perspective. As such, jogging at the moment was the best way for Simmons to inwardly process the influx of information from the last couple of days.

The alien Artificial Intelligence known as Santa had been shocking enough. Then there was the fact that Donald Doyle of all people received an energy sword like Tucker's. Not to mention finding out about Grif's past connections to the Insurrection, the group that was currently threatening their home…

Well, to be fair, Simmons had already known about some of that already. It wasn't as if any of the Reds or Blues had been quiet about their pasts on purpose. Knowing that the past wasn't a topic that Grif particularly enjoyed talking about, Simmons never pressed him on it even when there had been chances aplenty to do so.

The cyborg could relate to the chubby man's hesitancy to go in-depth on his personal history, honestly. Besides, it wasn't like someone from the cyborg's own past hadn't entered into the fray recently too, so he wasn't one to judge.

He had already told Grif years ago that if he needed to talk to him about anything, the orange-armored soldier could do so. Back then, Grif had smiled gratefully in a way that had made Simmons' heart ache and told him thanks.

So, that was where they stood currently on the subject of their pasts. It was the same place they had stood for years on the subject: with the door always open should the need arise. Simmons supposed he had to be content with that for now, as he had been for a long while.

Simmons looked around the jogging route, trying to gauge the distance he had traveled so far. At the moment, he was close by the warehouse, heading back towards the apartments.

Naturally, that's when it happened. Yet again.

The lights on the street, just beginning to turn on as the later afternoon hours rolled by, flickered. He didn't even have time to curse at the events that followed before finding himself face first on the ground.

Shit, would he have loved to curse because that fucking hurt. Tears were already starting to well up in his human eye. At least no one had been around to see him fall, so the pale-skinned man's pride wasn't too hurt as he struggled to pull himself up with lagging, unresponsive limbs.

"Ow, my head!" Simmons muttered to himself, although he wasn't sure if he said the words out loud or not.

"Are you all right?"

Simmons froze at the recently oddly familiar voice that spoke just then, especially since he had heard it on what he had been fairly certain was an empty street. Finally on his knees, the cyborg glanced upwards to see a floating red figure in the air.

He had heard right. The voice had belonged to the alien Artificial Intelligence, Santa. When the A.I. wasn't hanging around Caboose and Freckles, he could be seen throughout Chorus.

It figured Santa would catch Simmons' latest pitfall. He could feel his face burning in embarrassment.

"I—I'm fine." He managed to choke out, again trying to lift his body off the road with minimal success, "Just a…backlash."

"To the power outages that have been plaguing this city, correct?" Santa asked, seemingly genuinely curious at what the human was referring to.

Simmons nodded in response, finally getting his body in tow and pulling himself fully up off the ground.

"The Virtual Intelligence that Caboose calls Freckles has them as well." The tiny hologram informed Simmons, glancing over at the redhead, "Though his backlashes, as you call them, are different from yours."

"Probably because he's a full V.I. while I am a cyborg." Simmons stated, feeling a bit odd talking about the situation so rationally even though he knew that Santa's observation was correct. Simmons hated how much more unresponsive and pained his body got with each new one.

Both he and Church reacted to the power outages differently from the Virtual Intelligences, although they were all directly impacted by them all the same. After all, the outages were still occurring despite the efforts of both Chorus and Hargrove's men to stop them.

"I see. Yes, that would make the most logical sense." Santa nodded his head in agreement.

Now that he thought about it, seeing Santa floating there gave Simmons pause. It seemed as if the newcomer wasn't experiencing any of the effects that he and the others were.

"Hey, Santa," he began, trying his best to be as conversational as possible to an alien tech that was who-knows how old in reality, "Why aren't you being affected by the power outages? You are an A.I., aren't you?"

"That is correct, though I am a far bit different from your own Artificial Intelligences." Santa looked as thoughtful as an alien hologram could get as he considered Simmons' question, "I suppose whatever is attacking the networks of this city is specifically designed for human technology."

"So something of your caliber wouldn't be affected." Simmons concluded, feeling a bit jealous and a little bit insecure. Damn it! He couldn't even be on par with ancient alien technology!

Santa inclined his head slightly to indicate a nod, seemingly content with no more conversation. Deciding it would be best to get out of the street, Simmons couldn't hide the wince he made as he turned towards the direction of the warehouse.

"Are you sure that you're all right?" Santa inquired after him, "Should I call for assistance?"

Simmons shook his head at the politely worded offer, "No need. I'm heading straight to the warehouse and clinic."

"I see. A rational choice." Santa began flickering out of sight, no doubt to explore some more of the human settlement that he found so fascinating, "Good day, then."

Just like that, Simmons was on his own once more. He sighed, making his way over to the warehouse. A small bundle of teal raced over to the redhead to collide with his already shaky knees once the large building's double doors opened to admit him.

"Whoa there!" Simmons couldn't help but smile at Junior's affectionate tackle despite how it nearly put him on the ground again, returning the hug awkwardly, "How's it going, Junior?"

Junior looked up at the maroon-wearing adult, a knowing look in his blue eyes and a frown growing on his face. No doubt the boy was well-aware that another power outage had occurred.

"Hey now," Simmons gave his shoulders a reassuring squeeze, "Everything's okay, Junior."

A doubtful look still lingered on the boy's features, but seeing Simmons try to encourage him caused Junior to smile all the same. Slowly, he disentangled himself from around the cyborg's legs.

"Hello, Simmons." Sheila spoke up not a second later, obviously having watched the exchange between himself and Tucker's child.

The cyborg turned to the side to see both Sheila and Lopez standing in the doorway. Her tone was as cordial as ever, but he caught on to the undercurrent of worry in it all the same. The fact that Lopez's arm was draped over her shoulders reassuringly was not lost on him.

"Hey, Sheila. Hey, Lopez." He greeted, swallowing nervously.

"Bueno. Ya que estás aquí, puede hacerse cargo de niñera por un rato." {"Good. Since you're here, you can take over babysitting for a little while."}

He wasn't sure what Lopez had said, but the brown-armored robot sounded rather lethargic. Or, at least as lethargic-sounding as an electronically-voiced robot could get. Knowing that the power outages basically forced the two Virtual Intelligences to boot back up, as well as the strain that put on their systems, he figured maybe taking over Junior-watching duties would be a nice gesture on his part.

"You missed the others, I'm afraid." Sheila informed him, "They went out a while ago."

Simmons sighed in relief. He had been hoping that was the case. He didn't know if his anxious nerves could have handled a lot of people being in the warehouse at the moment.

With all that had happened, he had almost forgotten that Grif and the others had another scavenging mission earlier today. There was no doubt that Carolina would want to see how it had gone personally by greeting the returning scavengers. Some of the others would probably tag along to just get out of the warehouse for a bit.

Truthfully, Simmons had been avoiding Grif a bit due to knowing that the genetically engineered man was probably getting close to his time for "release" again.

"That's fine. I just came here because…" The redhead's voice trailed off when he saw Lopez's arm tighten protectively around Sheila. No need to mention what they were all already aware of.

"Estos cortes son un dolor en el culo." {"These outages are a pain in the ass."}

Sheila nodded her head in agreement to whatever it was that Lopez had said just then before turning back to face Simmons. "This time it took a bit longer to get back online." She informed the cyborg, looking regretfully at Junior, "We must have scared him terribly."

Junior's eyes widened, and the boy vehemently shook his head before racing over to the two robots and hugging both of them in reassurance. Sheila patted his shoulder fondly and even Lopez ruffled his black head of hair gently, the two robots silently looking at one another with a whole lot of meaning as they did so.

"I think Junior wants you both to know he's more concerned for you." Simmons muttered, Junior smiling and nodding his head in agreement.

Sheila's tone was touched as she stated, "Thank you, Junior."

"Buen niño." {"Good kid."}

Sheila turned to Simmons again then, "Perhaps you should rest in the clinic for a moment until we are certain another outage isn't in the works?" She suggested, sounding concerned.

The lanky man nodded, the pain in his skull having not quite vanished, "That sounds like a good idea, actually."

At those words, Junior raced back to Simmons' side to grab his hand tightly.

Simmons couldn't help but smile at the gesture, "Are you still worried?" he asked.

The boy nodded slightly, a frown on his face again.

Simmons squeezed Junior's hand reassuringly, "So am I, but hopefully we have no reason to be." He told the child despite the pain still flaring in his skull.

The slow, trudging pace by which they were heading back to Chorus did not, in Lavernius Tucker's oh-so-very-humble opinion, help the mood any.

Not that he could blame anyone on the scavenging mission for not feeling like celebrating just then. After all, they had stumbled upon yet another reclamation site only to find it picked clean before they had even arrived—a scorch mark on the ground to let them know who exactly had beat them to the punch.

Seriously, this was like…what? The sixth fucking time this week? It was enough to get anyone down in the dumps, particularly since they needed the materials from these runs now more than ever. The ongoing repairs to Chorus weren't going to fix themselves, although it'd be pretty fucking sweet if they did.

Tucker must have groaned out loud because Washington, who had been walking right beside the teal-armored soldier without him having realized it for quite some time, cast a gray-eyed glance in his direction.

"It looks as though they have switched their strategy to beating us to the punch." The former Freelancer said plainly while stating the obvious.

Tucker rolled his eyes, "Gee, you think?" He muttered under his breath.

Wash ignored him, "In a way, it's a sound strategy…"

"Cut off the enemy's supply line, and they will be less of a threat to you."

Tucker couldn't help but shudder slightly at the garbled, electronic voice of Locus cutting into what he thought had been a private conversation. He had honestly almost forgotten that the mercenary was there, which was alarming considering that Locus' large figure tended to be intimidating even when he was just standing silently.

Washington sighed, "Exactly." He agreed with Locus' assessment of what was occurring, no doubt about to say the same thing before the steel and green-armored mercenary had cut in.

"So we just have to figure out a way to beat them to it ourselves." Tucker deduced, hoping to dispel some of the doom and gloom that was hanging around yet another journey home empty-handed.

"That's going to be easier said than done, Tucker." Wash told him, almost gently.

"I know, I know." Tucker gritted his teeth, "But it just pisses me the fuck off that we can't do more."

He glanced around his surroundings to the rest of the scavenging mission party. From nearby, Grif said nothing. To be honest, his friend's mind had been elsewhere since they had started this mission. Tucker knew he was probably getting close to his need for "release" soon.

Plus, being reminded of how an old friend of his was currently fucking over any chance they had to help Simmons and the others probably wasn't helping matters. That, and the heavy labored breathing indicated that the fat-ass was walking too much to be able to talk at the same time without passing out.

Caboose was also surprisingly quiet, but Tucker chalked that up to him having picked up on the general mood of the group. He noticed that his blond blue-armored teammate was clutching onto Freckles tighter than usual.

Behind them all, the lieutenants trudged along at a slow pace. This most recent failure was having an exceptionally disheartening effect on the rookies. Not that Tucker could blame them. After all, all of them had joined the army specifically to help protect Chorus.

"Tucker's right." Felix noted, letting out a sigh of his own, "It's really fucking frustrating that we haven't been able to get the resources needed to help speed up repairs."

Tucker glanced over at the mercenary, surprised at the sincerity in his voice just then. He was still a little uneasy around Felix due to his questions regarding his son before, but maybe he had been overreacting to things like an overprotective parent?

"It especially sucks that we haven't found any more cool alien swag like those swords either." The orange and steel-armored mercenary noted disappointedly, vanishing Tucker's doubts.

Obviously, he had been giving Felix too much credit there. Momentary illusion shattered, Tucker rolled his eyes and glanced back at the lieutenants.

Matthews and Bitters were practically walking shoulder to shoulder, though they were so downcast that they probably didn't even realize they were doing so. Jensen and Palomo were discussing something quietly together, shoulders sagged in lingering disappointment. Andersmith and Volleyball were both looking off into the "dead zone," but he could tell their hearts weren't into it.

The sight of everyone so forlorn made him lament the fact that Kai was training with Bones again. The younger Grif sibling always knew how to be the mood maker for a crowd.

"They're really down, huh?" Tucker whispered over to Washington, leaning in close so that the Freelancer could hear him.

Since their helmets were on, he didn't see the blush that appeared on Wash's face at his sudden proximity.

The older man covered up his sudden flush by glancing over at the lieutenants as he nodded in response, "I think some extra training when we get back should help take their minds off of things."

Tucker frowned, "Damn. You really don't take a fucking break. Are you sure you aren't pushing them too hard?"

Wash turned his gaze to Tucker then, "The extra training's for you too."

"What? Why only me?" Tucker glanced over at his two Red and Blue scavenging teammates, neither of whom seemed to be paying the conversation any attention in the slightest.

"Because you are frustrated by what's been happening as well and need a diversion." The blond noted, "Grif doesn't appear to be feeling well, so he'd just skip it anyways and Caboose would just distract the lieutenants."

Tucker frowned, not really able to argue with that sound of logic.

"Besides, you working alongside them would be a great morale boost."

Again, Wash's logic was fucking foolproof. Tucker was fucking amazing like that.

So, Tucker did the only thing he could do then and rubbed the back of his helmet in a resigned fashion, "Aw, fuckberries."

Nearby, Felix whistled lowly in amusement, "Glad it wasn't me."

The unlikely retinue of Carolina, Church, Doc, and Donut were waiting for the scavenging mission party at the gate by the time they arrived back in Chorus.

One look at how even more haggard-looking than normal Church appeared to be said all that Dexter Grif needed to know about what had most likely happened while they were away. Regardless, he glanced at the Freelancer in cyan questioningly since he figured she wouldn't waste time with pleasantries.

Carolina nodded briskly, "There was another power outage." She explained.

Grif felt his stomach drop as his mind went immediately to Simmons and then the others. The news had an already disappointed group coming back emptyhanded even more crestfallen.

"Oh, no!"

It was Caboose of all people who reacted first, racing over to where Church stood and enveloping the dark-haired cyborg in a suffocating bear hug, "Church! Church, are you all right?"

Church coughed and groaned, "I was—until you squeezed the fucking life out of me." He mumbled, though he awkwardly patted the younger man's back all the same.

"He should be fine with plenty of rest and orange juice, Caboose." Doc reassured the Blue Team member.

"Okay, then I will go find some!" With that, Caboose ran off in a hurry towards the direction of the entertainment district.

"I'm going to have to drink a gallon of that shit when he comes back, aren't I?" Church asked, sounding both worried and resigned all at once.

Carolina regarded her sibling in amusement, "Most likely." She informed him wryly.

"Aw, fuck it." He glared over at the purple medic, "Thanks for that, Doc."

"You're welcome, Church!" Doc did not seem to pick up on the sarcasm in Church's tone just then, his smile as large as ever.

As amusing as all of this was turning out to be, Grif had a certain red-headed cyborg that he needed to find. He was just about to break his apathetic reputation by heading off to find Simmons, but Wash beat the tan-skinned man to making himself scarce by informing Carolina of what had happened earlier when they had found a whole lot of nothing on their retrieval mission.

"I suspect that they are trying to actively undermine our repairs to Chorus now." Washington concluded, his hands made into frustrating fists at his sides.

The red-haired woman frowned, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently, "It certainly seems that way." She muttered in response.

Grif remembered the scorch marks at each of the recent sites and frowned. To think that Terrence was doing this now. He wondered what had happened to the cheerful, big brother figure that he had last seen before he had met up with the Reds and Blues.

"I would love to investigate them further to figure out their exact motives." Carolina turned her attention to the chubbier man in their midst, "Are you sure you don't know anything else, Grif?" She asked him.

Grif shook his head, "I've already told you everything. That was such a fucking long time ago and—!"

He stopped short as a wave of heat washed over him, causing him to stumble slightly on his feet as his vision blurred. Shit. Not now…!

"Are you all right?" Carolina asked, gripping Grif's arm in a death-like vice to keep him from crashing to the ground.

Weirdly, the "tingle" that usually came with someone else's physical touch wasn't there. He frowned, having noticed that lack of a reaction recently. It was odd, but he had other things on his mind. Maybe he'd get it checked out later, if he wasn't being his usual lazy self.

"I'm fine." Grif managed to get out through gritted teeth, face turning slightly red, "I'm just getting close to my time, I guess."

"Oh." Carolina seemed nonplussed by the admission, but she and Washington had no doubt encountered all sorts of genetically engineered humans on their top secret military exercises, "You should get that situation under control as quickly as possible."

He ignored the "Bow-Chicka-Bow-Wow!" that he heard from Tucker just then, accompanied by an exclamation of pain as Wash elbowed the teal-wearing man for good measure.

"I know." Grif remarked, though he knew that would be easier said than done with how "on the fritz" his sense of touch seemed to be right now. Around this time, he should be super-sensitive but recently that wasn't really the case right now. He shook his head again, "If you want to ask someone else about the Insurrection from back then, I'd try Cass."

"Oh, I could talk to her about it, ma'am!" Andersmith eagerly volunteered, much to the snickering of the other lieutenants and his own reddening face as he realized how that must have appeared.

"Yeah, I bet you could!" Palomo joked out, getting an elbow to the chest plate from a smiling Jensen a second later.

While everyone was momentarily distracted, Grif excused himself by stealthily sneaking away from the group like a badass maverick. Or, he simply just walked away like a dude who didn't want to bother standing around and talking about work shit anymore. He wasn't able to sneak away entirely unseen, however (damn his still being slow and tired from all the walking earlier! Exercise was fucking evil).

Donut, with a way too knowing look in his brown eyes, passed him the repaired plushy as he tried to make his escape. Grif quickly nodded his thanks for the toy and stored it in his armor storage, ignoring the wink the dirty blond gave him and the secretive smile the pink-wearing soldier shared with Doc just then.

The orange-wearing soldier decided to say "Fuck it!" and brush Donut and Doc's gossipy tendencies aside like he did everything else he didn't want to deal with.

After all, Grif had a nerd to check in on.

After dropping by his apartment to get into some everyday clothes, Grif remembered to put the stuffed doggie that Donut had repaired for him into the container where he kept the others. While doing so, the chubby man figured that finding Simmons would be as easy as heading to where the workaholic nerd could usually be found at this time of day. He didn't even need to check Simmons' time table schedule for it.

So, that's why Grif headed to the familiar, almost comforting sight of the warehouse. It seemed his assumption as to where Simmons was happened to be correct when a polite Sheila and a bored-as-always Lopez directed him to the clinic. The dark-haired man rushed over there and was honestly only surprised to find both Junior and Hargrove sitting next to a resting Simmons.

Though Simmons seemed somewhat embarrassed at being found by Grif yet again in Doctor Grey's clinic of all places, both the redhead and Junior smiled at the orange-wearing man's appearance as Hargrove merely lifted an eyebrow in mild amusement.

Junior dropped the crayons and paper that he had been drawing with to run over to Grif, the larger man ruffling his dark head of hair affectionately, "Hey, little man! You been watching over the nerd for me?" he joked as he did so.

Junior grinned, nodding his head emphatically.

"Your dad should be on his way to collect you soon. Probably with Washington." Grif noted how Junior's eyes, already bright because of Tucker's impending arrival, smiled even more at the mention of the Freelancer.

"Why don't you go and play with Lopez for a bit before he gets here, Junior?" Simmons, clearly noticing that Grif wanted to see if he was okay, asked the boy.

Junior seemed pleased with the idea, grabbing his drawing utensils and papers with a final, reassuring nod to everyone in the room before he disappeared to find his favorite robotic babysitter.

"The two of you are excellent with him." Hargrove commented as Grif walked further into the clinic space, "Are you considering children of your own?"

All the fucking time. But, Grif wasn't about to say that to Hargrove of all people. He had to bite his tongue about the chairman even being here as it was. For some reason, the older man got under his skin in more ways than he could count.

Simmons spluttered at the question, eyes inadvertently going to Grif for some reason that nearly gave the other man a hopeful pause before his face turned a brilliant shade of red that Sarge would have probably paid good money to see.

Finally, because he didn't like Hargrove asking such personal questions in the first place, Grif took pity on Simmons, "I heard there was another power outage." He stated, ignoring Hargrove's question entirely, "You all right, Simmons?"

Simmons looked beyond relieved at the change of subject, nodding his head vigorously, "Y—yes. Doctor Grey looked me over, and I was just about to leave when Chairman Hargrove came by to talk about old times again."

"I see." Grif figured keeping his mouth shut on what he thought about that particular scenario was better for everyone in the long run. Plus, he was too fucking lazy to start a fight right now.

"It is troubling that we haven't been able to put a stop to these power outages yet." Hargrove muttered, a contemplative frown crossing over his weathered features.

"Yeah, well, it probably doesn't help matters that the Insurrection is actively trying to sabotage our attempts now." Grif informed them.

Simmons frowned, "Another bust?" he asked, concerned about what was obviously becoming a recurring trend for all of their resource scavenging missions.

Grif wanted to do anything to stop the worry creeping into the cyborg's voice just then, but couldn't help the apathetic helplessness from his response, "Yeah, it's like they know we're coming before we even get to the site." He sat down in the chair that Junior had been in before.

"Interesting." Hargrove was regarding Grif carefully then, "Don't you have ties to the Insurrection, young man?"

Grif stiffened at the question, eyes narrowing at the unvoiced implication that he had something to do with what was going on with the attacks.

"That was a long time ago." Simmons spoke up, thankfully, in his defense.

"I see." Hargrove stood up then, nodding to both of them, "As pleasant as catching up always is, I'm afraid I must be going now."

"Of course. Take care, Chairman." Simmons told the businessman as he left.

Grif remained stock still and silent until the doors to the clinic closed before taking notice of Simmons regarding him in mild concern.

"Grif?" The cyborg asked when he realized he finally had the chubby man's attention.

"He fucking did that on purpose!" Grif seethed, seeing red in his vision.

Simmons blinked at the suddenly vehement response from the usually laidback man, "What? No, he didn't!"

"Really, Simmons?" Grif looked at him in disbelief, "That seemed like just a casual reference to you?"

"Well," Simmons frowned, looking at the ground, "He was just concerned."

"Of fucking me!" Grif shot up from the chair, "Like I'd ever betray anyone here. Like I'd ever hurt you!"

"Grif, I know that, but—!" Simmons looked panicked as he started to get out of bed, a pained wince apparent on his face despite his stubborn refusal to acknowledge it.

"But nothing, Simmons! He's a fucking asshole and I—!"

Simmons stumbled just then, cutting Grif off in mid-rant as the genetically engineered man reached out to steady the redhead's shoulders. Suddenly, in the very second that his hands touched Simmons, the "tingle" was there in full-force.

Only this time it was like a lightning strike. There was a sudden hotness racing through his body that Grif had never before felt so acutely.

Grif couldn't help it as his legs turned to jelly. He actually moaned one of the neediest, desperate sounds that had ever escaped his lips.

Suddenly there was silence in the space between them. Simmons was staring at him with eyes as wide and dilated as saucers, even his artificial one even though that didn't seem physically possible. The cyborg's freckled face suddenly looked as hot as Grif's whole body felt just then. When Simmons finally spoke, it was barely a whisper.

"G—Grif?"

"I…" Grif's brain wasn't working properly as he dropped Simmons' shoulders as if they burned, "I've gotta…gotta go check on…something."

Then the chubby man left the clinic and the warehouse as well as a dumbfounded and weak-kneed Simmons, both men wondering what the fuck had happened.

"This sucks." Tex remarked, leaning against the side of the ship and tapping her foot impatiently on the ground of a seedy district known as Rat's Nest.

"Agreed, but so would crashing from the sky." Four Seven Niner told Tex, "Believe me."

In this particular moment, the pilot couldn't help but relate to the Freelancer. She wanted nothing more than for them to be on their way to Chorus too. Of course, that kind of thinking didn't exactly take into account necessary stops that they had to take for shit like refueling their transport.

Truthfully, Niner just wanted to know that she and her friends were okay, even if she wasn't quite sure what exactly she would say to a certain redheaded woman when they did meet up again.

Tex grunted, stepping away from the transport as she spotted a few figures dressed in familiar steel armor meandering about the area.

"Huh. Think they know anything worthwhile?" She called over her shoulder.

The woman in the wheelchair glanced in the direction of the mercenaries disinterestedly before going back to focus on making sure the refueling was going well, "I suppose you could ask them politely and find out."

Hearing the other woman cracking her knuckles, Four Seven Niner didn't even have to turn around to know that Tex was smirking.

Author's Notes: …Things are starting to heat up, and in more ways than one! :D I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. :)

Thank you for taking the time to read it! :D