Note: Fun little story time. Many moons ago, I published Chapter 66 of Poison. You remember the one: where I revealed Winter got her brain cut out and Weiss almost died in the God's Arm. Fun times. Apparently, most of my viewership didn't think so, because it was after that chapter I got numerous complaints about the quality of my work, how dark it was, and how my readers were going to quit because of the overwhelming misery. I had to take the chapter down and apologize and everything. Now, here we are at Chapter 66 of Flames, and I'm writing goofy fluff in the middle of a saucy and silly beach vacation arc. Oh, and Winter's brain is back to normal. It's funny how that turns out. Hopefully, the reception to this chapter is better than the reception to the last 66th chapter I wrote. Enjoy.


Pyrrha felt really good.

She felt sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo good.

She couldn't stop giggling. Her face had turned beet red and her cheeks were sore from how much she was smiling. She had barely touched her second course, a hearty stew of beef and greens that gradually turned cold from the nearby ocean breeze. Her glass of grape juice never left her hand. She weaved up and down like a wave, following the flow of conversation, eyes squinted but bright and invigorated. Jaune was much the same at the other side of the table, though he kept engaged by the strings of a story he told his eager guest.

"I have no problem wearing a dress," he insisted, a long pause between each of his words. "I would… make it look amazing."

"You wouldn't fit in my dress," Pyrrha laughed.

"No, no… I totally could."

"No, you couldn't."

"No, I could."

"Noooooooooo, you couldn't."

"I…" Jaune slammed his fist against the table. "I am hot."

Pyrrha cracked up. "You are five sizes bigger than me. Maybe."

"I would make it work. I would… squeeze in there. I'd fill it out, but I'd make it work."

Pyrrha shook her head. "Waitwaitwaitwaitwait."

"What?"

"Wait."

"I'm waiting."

"Wait. If I got my armor… right now…"

"Yes. I'd fit in it."

"How?"

"I would look so good. I would rock it."

"That's not my question. How?"

"I have so many sisters," Jaune explained. "I have worn… all their clothes."

"Have you?"

"Yes. No."

"If you could fit in my clothes, I would…" A host of inappropriate thoughts raced through Pyrrha's head, and instead of explaining any of them, she just let out a breathless wheeze. Jaune cackled in response, the delirium spreading between them.

"Look, I got a question," he mumbled. "When you chose your… your armor… why midriff?"

Pyrrha shook her head. "It's not midriff."

"Yes, it is."

"It's a sliver of skin. A teeeeeeeensy, tiiiiiiiiiny, little bit." Pyrrha pinched her fingers together, then pinched them repeatedly, tapping her index finger to her thumb ten times a second.

"And thigh. You have thigh."

"I have thigh?" Pyrrha laughed. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Thigh and stomach," Jaune exclaimed. "You are going to get stabbed."

"I'll be fine. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You fight in jeans," Pyrrha said accusingly. "How could you have any flexibility in jeans?"

"Hey, I…" Jaune swung his fist through the air with confidence. "I like jeans."

"You are going to fall over. You need… here, watch this."

Pyrrha suddenly stood up from the table. She wandered to a wider section of the patio, barely keeping one foot in front of the other. Jaune took another sip of juice as he watched Pyrrha sturdy herself. She held out her arms, finding her balance, before taking a deep breath and lifting one of her legs behind her. She grabbed onto her heel and pulled upward, and, despite being way too fucking drunk somehow, she managed to lift her foot up and over her head, balancing deftly on one foot. Her dress rode up on her thighs, and if this were any other hour of any other day, she would have covered herself for modesty. Right now, all she cared about was showing up Jaune. He didn't even seem to notice, his gaze transfixed on Pyrrha's heeled foot as it hovered over her crimson hair. After a few seconds, she lowered her leg, and after stopping herself from stumbling and adjusting her dress, she bowed.

"Ta-da!"

Jaune gave a slow clap. "That's good. Very good."

"Can't do that in jeans," Pyrrha teased him as she wandered back to her seat. She ungracefully collapsed into the chair, beaming proudly at her worthless accomplishment.

"But I could do that if I wore your dress," Jaune stated. "Hence… my point."

"Was that your point?" Pyrrha asked him. Honestly, she couldn't remember what they were talking about, or how long they had been talking. Everything just seemed to blur together into a big, warm, tingly miasma. She wouldn't mind if the evening extended like this forever and ever and ever. Jaune didn't quite respond. He shrugged and took a large mouthful of beef shank, which was quite tasty and did not deserve to be neglected. He was not anticipating this evening going this smoothly. Normally, he had the social skills of a used napkin. The mere thought of a woman actually being interested in him was something out of a childlike fantasy. Now, the most powerful, talented, and brilliant Huntress of a generation was chatting him up a storm, admiring him, and seemingly, flirting with him. That was weird. Very weird. Not bad. Just weird. If the grape juice hadn't given him so much confidence, he wouldn't know how to behave.

Neither of them was able to dwell on their feelings, as their intrepid waiter returned to their table. Her smile had gotten shakier since the last time they saw her, though perhaps that was a figment of their collective imaginations. The mustachioed maître d' clasped her hands behind her back and was greeted with laughter.

"Everything going all right out here?" Nora asked, trying to hide her worry.

"It's going so well," Pyrrha told her enthusiastically. She held up her glass. "This stuff is soooooooo gooooood. Can we get another bottle?"

"Yes! Another bottle!" Jaune said with equal cheer.

"Oh. That. Um…" Nora put on a fake grin. "I'm afraid we are all out of that. Yep! Totally gone."

Pyrrha frowned. "What? Can't you check?"

"Already checked!" Nora said quickly. "Checked up and down and in all the other cardinal directions."

Jaune processed the claim momentarily. "East and west?"

"Yep, those are the other two!" Nora nodded. "Afraid we only got plain ole water from here on out! Would you like some water? A nice cooling glass of beverage?"

Pyrrha hummed. "Ooooh, water."

"Yes, water," Nora repeated.

"I really want to go for a swim."

Pyrrha stood, eyes on the pool, and immediately went to unzip her dress. Nora gasped and grabbed onto her wrists before she did anything unwise.

"Nope! Pool's off-limits for you!" she insisted, sitting Pyrrha back down in her chair. The prodigal Huntress grimaced.

"Come on, Nora. Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Nope! Nu-uh! Hey, look over here!" Nora quickly pointed down to the bowl in front of Pyrrha's face. "Look at that! Yummy yummy. You should focus on eating all of that up, and not moving from this chair for any reason." She turned and snapped at Jaune. "You too, lover boy!"

While the two wannabe lovers pouted, Nora grabbed the empty bottle of wine from the table and swiftly left them. Well, not left them. She had been watching their antics carefully from behind the glass patio door, her eyes sharp like a hawk. She couldn't leave them entirely; the Lord knew that if she took her eyes off them for a second, they would both do something terribly embarrassing that they would never be able to live down. Like, ten seconds ago, Pyrrha basically flashed herself at Jaune doing that leg thing. Who did that? Not the leg over the head, but the flashing of the underwear on the first date. Certainly not someone as classy as Pyrrha Nikos—though, honestly, it was pretty impressive how flexible she was, and it was a pretty good pair of underwear. Wait, why did Pyrrha even have fancy panties in the first place? Was she planning on showing them off? That harlot! And she said she wasn't in this for the sex. Or maybe she just happened to have them already. Pyrrha did not strike her as the fancy underwear type. Actually, when they first met, Nora suspected she didn't wear underwear beneath that armor. She didn't know why, but that was the feeling she got. She never asked about it though, and she wasn't one to stare at Pyrrha while she was changing. She was no pervert. Actually, now that she thought about it, the whole concept of the co-ed dorm rooms was pretty messed up. How many peeping toms were able to take advantage of that situation? She already knew that Beacon and Atlas were screwed-up, surveillance-ridden hellscapes. Ozpin and Ironwood demonstrated that. She never considered the implications of students screwing with other students though. She was never more grateful to be partnered with such sweet boys. Ren would never look at her changing—unless she wanted him to. And god, did she sometimes want him to. Would it hurt the boy to show some interest in the opposite sex once in a while? Like, it'd be super messed up, but on some kind of kinky, romantic level, she wouldn't mind if he happened to turn around in the midst of her taking off her—

Wait, what the hell was she doing? Where was she going?

She stopped in her tracks and looked around. She had somehow wandered all the way into her bedroom, wine still in hand. Force of habit. Then, the realization hit her like a bolt of lightning.

"Jaune! Pyrrha!"

Nora sprinted out of her room, heading back downstairs. She placed the bottle of wine on the counter and ran past Ren, who was in the midst of preparing the final course. Cake. Delicious, strawberry cake. Nora ran almost face-first into the glass patio door, skidding to a stop just in time to press her nose against the glass and spy once more on the date. Fortunately, Pyrrha and Jaune had done exactly what they were told. Their butts remained planted in their seats, and they were eating the food that they had previously ignored. Nora breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She swore to god if those two started getting hot and heavy on that table…

Jaune took a bite of his dinner. Pyrrha had gone somewhat quiet since being denied the pool, though he wasn't sure if her mood dwindled. She did seem calmer, and that gave him the courage to ask a question that had been weighing him down for quite some time.

"So, um…" he started, his words less slurred than before. "Why me?"

Pyrrha perked up, pausing mid-forkful. "Hmm?"

"Like… why me… for this? I guess," Jaune said awkwardly. "I mean, I know why here and now, because there aren't many options, but like… come on. There's gotta be other people, right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Pyrrha admitted, barely keeping herself straight. Jaune struggled to find the right words as they tumbled through his drunken mind.

"I mean… this is, like… a date date, right? Is it? Or did I misread that?"

He held his breath. Maybe keeping his suspicions quiet would have let him escape. He wouldn't have to confront the change that was staring him right in the face. He could pretend, for just a few moments longer, that his life wasn't about to take on a new and terrifying responsibility. Pyrrha would have liked to pretend that too. Unfortunately, the alcohol had watered down all of her inhibitions, and she didn't see the point in resisting the call of fate.

"Yeah, that was…" She shrugged. "That was the goal."

Jaune gulped, processing that news carefully. "Okay, then. But… why me?"

Pyrrha smiled sweetly. "Because… you're nice to me. And it feels like you understand me when most of the people in my life didn't. And also…" Pyrrha started snickering again, the sheer absurdity of her bluntness getting to her. She bowed her head, almost hiding her face within her entrée. "…ithinkyourecute."

Jaune leaned forward. "What was that?"

Pyrrha laughed, flicking him away. "Shut up! This is so embarrassing!"

"Well, I wanna know!" Jaune tried to pout, but another fit of laughter came over him as well. Pyrrha's cheeks had somehow turned even redder.

"Well… you ain't gonna!" she announced. "You are gonna sit there and… eat beef! You shaggy… shaggy thing, you…"

Jaune and Pyrrha both stared at each other for a long moment and then burst into outrageous laughter. They weren't even sure at what anymore. They fell onto the table, rupturing at the seams, so wasted they could barely separate their cardinal directions. It took a long time to finish their second course, but again, they didn't seem to mind that it had gotten cold.


"Okay, so that isn't everything, but it's enough."

Coco sat cross-legged on the bed, eyes wearily tracing the lines of Yang's face. The dragon was lying on her bed as if in one of her therapy sessions—and god, did it seem like Coco had been dragged into a therapy session. She had been hit by revelation after revelation, and though the list of trauma had been carefully cultivated by Yang to avoid releasing any highly personal information, it was enough to paint Coco a clear picture of the drama in front of her.

"So… wow…" Coco was hardly able to muster any further response.

"What should I do?" Yang asked hopelessly. "I mean, it feels like every time I try to make progress, I just fall flat on my face. I want to fix this, but I'm terrified of making another mistake."

"This girl is refusing to see a psychiatrist, right? Like, she doesn't want to do that?"

"Actually, she has been seeing Dr. Noetal as of late. At least once."

"Did she get prescribed anything?"

"Probably not."

"Yeah, maybe that's a good idea," Coco mused. Yang frowned, and Coco realized her snark wasn't helping matters. She sighed, trying to reign in her disbelief over how much drama a single teenage relationship could bring. "Let me try to get this straight: You are madly in love with this woman, and she also has feelings for you. She probably doesn't want to have feelings for you, because that opens up the chance of you two entering a relationship. She doesn't want a relationship, because the last time you two dated, you were super toxic and almost… killed each other?"

"Something like that," Yang groaned. "And we've both been getting better, but she still doesn't want to take any steps towards mending it. That's the part that's infuriating me the most. She recognizes there's a problem, and she knows it's going to cause trouble, but she just wants to ignore it. Do you have any idea how much prodding it took for me to get her into therapy?"

"Sounds like she doesn't like help," Coco reasoned.

"But she needs help!" Yang pushed herself up on her elbows. "She can't handle all of this by herself. I've tried telling her this, but it just goes nowhere. She needs people who she can rely on."

"And that person is you?"

"Who else?" Yang realized she sounded selfish, and quickly tried to backpedal. "I mean… not for that. But, I mean… we only have each other. It's Team RWBY, and then there's everyone else. No offense but I don't think she's going to open up to any of you. She doesn't have family she can turn to. Even Ruby and Weiss are more interested in each other than helping her. So, that leaves me, right? If I'm not the one supporting her, then no one else is. I don't want to see her fall any harder than she already has."

Coco scratched her chin. She noticed the pain in Yang's face and understood her sincerity, but she was more closely studying her words. A particular phrase caught her attention that she needed to unpack.

"Are you sure she needs any of that?"

Yang shook her head. "What? Support? Of course."

"No, not support. I mean, yes, support, but not that kind of support," Coco explained. "Can I do a bit of psychoanalyzing here? Stop me if I got this totally wrong, because I don't know Blake like you do, but this is what I'm seeing. Blake is a Faunus. She grew up on an island with an authoritarian government that strictly controlled everything she did. Her opinions were discarded because her race was inherently seen as inferior. She put her trust in some other Faunus to keep her safe, and they couldn't. Then she leaves and meets her boyfriend, Andrew—"

"Adam."

"Okay, Adam. She meets Adam. And you said he was a dick?"

"Yeah."

"A controlling dick?"

Yang chose her words carefully. "Yes."

"Okay, now consider this. How many terrible mistakes has Blake made?"

Yang didn't have to think hard about that. Running away from home. Sleeping with Ilia. Sleeping with her. Blowing up Beacon. Trying to kill Ruby. Shooting Goodwitch. Fucking up her meeting with Sienna—twice. Removing her Faunus traits. Hell, she was probably forgetting half of them. She only had a few seconds to respond, and she was certain she could dive deeper. She simply pursed her lips and answered quietly. "She's made a lot. Too many."

"Okay, so we've got these two factors," Coco said, holding out her hands in front of her to demonstrate. "On one side, Blake has this horrible disdain for authority. She hates it when people tell her what to do and how they belittle her. She doesn't like the sensation of anyone controlling her because it renders her helpless. But on the other side, she has zero confidence in her own decisions. Not only has she consistently been told how worthless her opinions are, but every time had the chance to prove them wrong, she couldn't. So you have this individual who, at the end of the day, is extremely distrustful of any guidance in her life, is deeply resistant to putting her wellbeing in other's hands… but just as crucially, doesn't have any faith in herself to fix her problems either."

"What does any of this have to do with me?" Yang asked, desperately trying to follow Coco's reasoning.

"Because you keep saying that you need to support her. That she needs to learn to rely on you," Coco stated. "But that's the exact same type of relationship that's been screwing her over her entire life. When she hears that you want to support her, her mind translates that as, you are trying to fix her. No wonder she resists you."

"But I'm not trying to—"

"It doesn't matter if you are trying to. What matters is how she perceives it. Blake doesn't need someone she can trust her life with. She's never going to accept that. What I think Blake really needs right now is to be told that she's making the right decision."

Yang sat up straight. Coco had managed to pierce at the heart of something, but she couldn't quite accept that, not yet. "But she's not making the right decisions. The right thing to do is to get help, and she doesn't want to do that."

"Okay, okay, maybe not that exactly," Coco reasoned. "Let me rephrase that. You don't have to tell her she's making the right decision. You don't have to agree with her, either. But what Blake needs to hear right now is that you respect her decision. I mean, what is the one person that Blake has never had in her life? Ever?"

A powerful realization came over Yang. Her lips became dry as the answer became clear. "Someone that trusts her."

Coco snapped her fingers. "Exactly! No wonder the girl is so resistant to compliments. No one has ever told her, 'Yes, great idea, Blake,' or, 'Whatever you choose to do, I'll stand by you'. Again, you don't have to blow smoke up her ass or anything. But you need to stop trying to guide her to what you want her to be. She needs to build up the confidence to trust herself, and then once she knows she'll have someone listen to her, that's when she'll be willing to make changes."

Yang couldn't believe it. Was that really the answer to her problems? It seemed so counterintuitive on the surface, and she never would have trusted Coco of all people to understand what Blake was going through. The two barely knew each other and seemed so far apart in so many ways, but it was that distance that gave Coco clarity. Blake was hurt. She had been hurting for a long time, and all Yang wanted to do was make that pain go away. She had failed to realize how her insistences were feeding right into Blake's trauma. She felt like a damn fool for not seeing it any sooner. It would take time, yes, and constant effort. She would have to learn to keep her mouth shut and have more control over her emotions than ever.

But now, she had a path forward. Finally, she saw a way to help her friend.

"I… I need to go find Blake and apologize," Yang said, quickly rising to her feet. "Coco, you're a genius. I don't know how to thank you enough."

"I'm sure you'll find a way," Coco shrugged. Solving other people's problems with her infinite wisdom? That was merely the Coco Adel way. She was always willing to lend a hand.

"I promise, if I fix this—when I fix this," Yang said, hurrying toward the door. "Maybe we can try this again. Hopefully, I won't screw things up."

"Yeah. Maybe," Coco laughed. She was always willing to lend a hand… but she preferred helping the hot ones. "Oh, and don't mention to Blake that I helped you. I mean, you can if you want, but she'll probably be happier if she thinks it's your idea."

"That's a really good point," Yang noted. She had another realization: that Coco Adel was perhaps the greatest wingman in Human history. Sometime, when they were both sober and untroubled, they really would have to try this again. Or, perhaps not. At the moment, sex didn't seem all that important.

Yang left Coco's room and hurried to find Blake. She knew just where to look. As dinner had come and gone, and given Blake's anti-social tendencies, she certainly retired to her room for the evening. Yang wasn't even thinking as she raced through the halls. She wasn't preparing for what she going to say. In some ways, she didn't want to. Overthinking her problems wasn't going to help her. She needed to speak from the heart, in the most honest way she could. When she stopped in front of Blake's room, she pounded on the door furiously. She heard an annoyed grunt from the other side, and in the few moments before Blake answered, she straightened herself out, trying not to seem like the slightly drunken mess she was.

Blake opened the door. If she was surprised at Yang's presence, she didn't show it. She leaned against the frame, preparing to be unimpressed by Yang's words. "Hey."

"Hey," Yang said nervously.

"What's going on? You missed dinner."

"I know."

"Everything all right?"

"Not really."

"You want to come in?"

"That's fine. I just needed to talk to you."

"About?"

"I…" Yang sighed. "I really needed to tell you… I'm sorry for how I acted earlier today. I didn't handle that conversation well at all, and I'm sorry for assuming things, and I'm sorry I was so pushy, and I'm sorry for pretty much everything else I did wrong."

Blake's expression didn't change. She stood there, paying close attention to Yang's sincerity before making her move. For Yang, the few seconds seemed to stretch into an eternity. "I appreciate that."

"You do?"

"Yeah," Blake said with a subtle nod, "and for what it's worth… I didn't handle that any better than you. Let's be honest: Telling your ex to sleep with someone else just so they'll get over you is kind of fucked up."

"A little," Yang admitted. "But actually… I did talk to Coco just now."

"And did you hook up?" Blake tried to remain calm when she asked, but Yang saw a subtle shift behind her eyes. She couldn't tell if it was from relief or guilt.

"No. We just talked," Yang stated. "And she actually made me realize something important. I don't… listen to you enough, Blake. Every time we've talked about us, I just… I've been discarding everything you want to do. I keep thinking that I know better, and that's wrong of me. I never wanted to push you into anything you're uncomfortable with, but I have been. I'm sorry for that, too."

Blake's eyes narrowed. She stood up straighter, no longer supporting herself with the doorway. Her resting sneer pulled back into something more sorrowful.

"This is coming from Coco?" Blake asked suspiciously.

"She just helped me get a different perspective," Yang promised. "She also said she didn't want me to tell you it was her, but… well, it was."

Blake crossed her arms. "Huh."

"Look, I'm not going to agree with everything you want to do," Yang explained, her heart bleeding through every word. "I know I'm not going to get it right. But your growth is yours, and it shouldn't be based on what I want you to do. If you don't want to talk about our relationship anymore, or whatever makes you uncomfortable… that's fine. I won't push you anymore. Whatever you want to do from here on out, I one hundred percent respect and stand by it."

"And why do you think that's a good idea?" Blake asked dully. "Knowing my track record with making wise ideas…"

"It doesn't matter," Yang said softly. "Everyone deserves to have someone in their corner. That kind of support is the least I can give you."

Blake awkwardly looked over her shoulder, as if trying to find an escape. Yang didn't press her any further. She was going to let Blake respond on her own terms. When Blake finally looked back, her eyes were slightly red and moist.

"Um… okay," she muttered under her breath. "Glad we're on the same page."

"Me too," Yang said, her nerves finally calming down. "I'll be here for you no matter what."

"Neat," Blake sighed. She pointed to her bed. "But actually, I was just about to nap, so…"

Yang awkwardly grinned. "Then I will be somewhere else!"

"Cool," Blake smirked. "I might text you tonight. If not, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. See ya."

Blake shut the door on Yang, though before it closed completely, Yang could see her smile grow. She breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time in months, she really felt like she had made progress. It would be hard to break her habits, but she was driven by Coco's words. As she began the trek back to her room, she was filled with confidence. They were going to make this work. She was going to make this right.

While she was on her way, she nearly ran into a drunk couple, leaning on each other and stumbling their way through the hall. She did her best to ignore them. They seemed like they were having plenty of fun without her.

"I wish Ren served ice cream," Pyrrha mumbled. "Ice cream is the best."

"I introduced you to ice cream," Jaune stated. "That makes me the best."

"You are the best," Pyrrha sighed. "You should make your own ice cream. Jaune's ice cream."

"I don't know how to make ice cream. You need an ice cream machine."

"We can buy one. We're rich now."

"Yeah. Let's do it," Jaune nodded. "Tomorrow let's buy an ice cream machine."

"That sounds amazing…"

Somehow, the two managed to find their way to Pyrrha's bedroom. How they navigated the confusing halls of the villa was anyone's idea, though honestly, they weren't that drunk. The many joys of the evening had done more to intoxicate them than the alcohol. Regardless of their mental acuity, they found their way home. Jaune insisted on dropping Pyrrha off; it was the chivalrous thing to do, just like a proper knight. They turned and faced each other, hovering just outside the door, neither quite sure what to say.

"I… um…" Pyrrha stammered, wavering slightly. "I had a really fun time tonight, Jaune. This was… maybe one of my best nights ever."

"Same. This probably was my best night ever," Jaune confessed, blushing slightly. Pyrrha giggled. He was so cute when he was shy…

"Hey, would you mind if I did something?" she asked.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't want to tell you. I want it… a surprise…"

"Okay… sure…" Jaune smiled. This night was already a surprise. He wasn't sure how it could get much better.

"Close your eyes."

Until Pyrrha said that.

Jaune didn't like fluffy romance films. He didn't like the cheesy tropes and cutesy, sickly feeling he got in his stomach. But he knew enough about them to recognize what Pyrrha was doing. Her eyes, glassy from wine but still vibrant green, seemed to stare through him. This night had taken him off his feet in a whirlwind, and yet, he still wasn't ready for what would come next. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be. Truthfully, neither was she. For whatever confidence was seeping through her words, there was a nervous firestorm inside of Pyrrha that wouldn't be quelled. She couldn't believe she was about to do this either.

But together, they felt they could step into that unknown.

Jaune closed his eyes—and within an instant, Pyrrha leaned forward and kissed him.

They parted after only a moment. He reopened his eyes to look at the marvelous woman before him, but her eyes darted away from him, unable to make contact. She blushed furiously, but she was still grinning, overwhelmed and impressed by her courage. She bashfully opened the door and stepped inside, giving him a final, parting smile.

"Good night, Jaune. It was great."

She shut the door, leaving Jaune alone in the hallway. He stood there, unmoving, unthinking. The weight of the moment crushed him.

Yeah.

It was pretty great.