Chapter L
Despite the thunder and rain, all Chrollo Lucilfer could hear is silence.
Silence from himself, but mostly, from her.
It had been a long and difficult journey from the mansion to their hotel. It had been an uneasy episode of taking showers and eating dinner. He thought it was best to keep his peace, let her mull over what is happening between them, and lay down to bed without speaking another word.
In fact, no one has spoken since the mansion. No word of greeting or questions. No questions about dinner. Not even a sweet "good night" in this cold bed weather.
Now he stares at the ceiling, dark hair fanned out over his pillow, an arm over his stomach. It is raining still, a constant companion of thunder. He contemplates whether to turn the lamp and read, to keep himself from the troubles, or to close his eyes and try to sleep.
He checks at his left side—her back is turned to him and she is buried under the blanket she hogged entirely from him. He does not mind. She can have everything she wants despite the chill. In truth, the only coldness he feels is the one she has for him.
Sighing in defeat, he rolls to his side and reaches an arm out for her. Her body does not respond to the touch. He slides himself across the mattress and pulls himself flush on her back, while his dark eyes are peeping at her face.
"Val?" he murmurs in her ear, tucking away strands of her hair. "Are you awake?"
She closes her eyes and burrows deeper in the blanket.
"You are awake," he says. "Come now. We need to talk."
Gently, he pries the blanket from her face and guides her to lie on her back. He shifts their position to his liking: her looking up at him and him lying on his side, pushed up on his forearm and gazing down on her. He runs his right hand over her jaw and brushes the pad of his thumb over her flushed cheeks.
Her eyes flutter at his touches. She wets her lips and finally finds it in herself to look at the man who keeps causing her heartache ever since the beginning. He is bare, no bandage or earrings, only left in his simple black nightclothes. He stares in her eyes, and she stares back, communicating with him without the need for words, for words are sometimes cheap. They are not enough to convey feelings. She sighs—tired in her mind and her heart—and cups his cheek.
He smiles a soft, angelic smile. He leans into her hand and closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath, as if relishing the feeling of her touch. He stares down on her again and shakes his head.
"I'm sorry," Chrollo whispers. He hand strokes her cheek. "I am very sorry, I truly am."
He gives a little pause, recollecting his thoughts. "I always tell you that I am not here to distress you, but it seems I keep on doing it one way or another."
"You are very good at distressing me," she states, matter-of-fact.
"This is all very new to me," he admits. "This kind of settlement—us being together. I have never been in this kind of situation, thus I don't know which is right or wrong. I'm sorry that I keep causing you pain. I always seem to think that my decisions are always best, but with you, it seems they are not. I keep thinking and acting as the Troupe leader, not as your partner, and for that I keep hurting you. I am so sorry."
"I know," she murmurs. In this close proximity, she can feel every inch of him. She could see no lies in his dark eyes, only genuine regret.
"I am learning still," he continues. "I am learning to understand how relationships work. That I cannot look for enemies because there are none or that not everyone would be out to harm us."
"We can learn together," Valtiel says.
"Yes," he breathes and kisses her between the eyes. "We will learn so many things together," he murmurs against her skin. "We will travel and read together. We will steal and terminate those who pose us any threats—" He grins wider as she frowns. "But we will learn to do everything right for each other. Let us not flirt with other people for the sake of flirting. Or have an argument for the sake of argument."
"You were the one pushing your luck with me," she reminds him.
"I did, and I am sorry for it," he says. "I was gauging how far I could go pushing my luck. I was curious to see how things would go between us. You think I'm foolish and perhaps I am. But I never meant to hurt your feelings." He sighs and nuzzles his nose with her own. "Really, I am a terrible, terrible person."
"But you will learn how to do things right," she says levelly, running her fingers through his silky hair. She pulls exactly the way he likes. He lets out a soft grunt. "We both have a long way to go if we want this to last."
"It will last," he says with a sudden passion, grey eyes ablaze. "Which is why we are both trying. No more experiments for our amusement. No more hypotheses and guesses. We will learn to be honest with each other, all right?"
"Yes." She smiles, mentally noting that Chrollo has been hypothesizing all this time. Instead of firing up another argument for the sake of argument, she says, "We have time to learn."
He nods and leans down for the long-awaited kiss. All this pent-up silence and frustration pouring into one deep kiss. He pries her lips open very easily, her submitting to his sensual strokes almost like an instinct. His right hand tilts her chin up, and he dives deeper, swallowing her little sighs. He presses more weight on her, pinning her deeper into the mattress.
She feels her lungs burning and pushes at his shoulder. He obeys but buries his face in the slope of her neck—kissing, nipping, breathing harshly right into her ear. Her insides coil at the intimacy. She squirms against him, trying to get the unbearably hot feeling out of her system. Yet the more Chrollo bears down on her, the more kisses on her eyelids, nose, mouth, and neck—the hotness builds up and up until she can no longer bear it.
She gasps at the wonderful sensation and finds herself yanking at Chrollo's hair to stop his fervent kissing on her neck and collarbone. He obeys with a quiet moan and follows when she pulls him down for another kiss on the mouth. She hears the Troupe leader growl in the back of his throat, matching her sudden fervor.
Chrollo leaves her mouth to press more kisses on her jaw, mouthing a wet pathway down to the curve of her neck and biting there. He feels her fingers scrambling over his shoulders and hair for purchase. Then she whimpers at a certain spot, tugging more urgently at his hair, and he bites down on the flesh and sucks—hard.
She is panting in earnest now, eyelids half-open and her vision swimming. In her haze, she still makes out the image of him, leaning on his forearms, and kisses both her eyes. She shakes her head at him, the room spinning more and more—a delicious frenzy—as Chrollo once again kisses her neck and collarbone, laving where he had bitten hard.
It mounts another notch when his hands start roaming her body, mapping every inch and grasping all he could reach. Her eyes shut tight, her breath also held tight. The Troupe leader's hands stroke her sides, brush ever so lightly against the underside of her breasts, and then lower still, touching her waist and her thighs.
He takes her left thigh and gently parts it for him, slipping his body between her legs with his crotch pressing her down to the mattress. His ears perk from a delicious sigh, and he could not help but keep going forward, guiding her thigh around his waist. He puts it firmly in place, one hand supporting it and holding it from beneath. The new, closer position is almost too much for them both. He pants over her mouth.
Valtiel's harsh breathing matches his. With her heavy gaze, she stares up at him, equal parts amused and embarrassed to see his usually perfect hair disheveled, his pale cheeks flushed with color, and his lips moist and swollen. The Phantom Troupe leader, with that kind of appearance, in her bed of all places.
He chuckles—she is such a modest girl. He apologizes for his rough wooing by kissing her tenderly on the lips. Softer, with more affection. The previous ones were products of their frustration with each other, the silence that had built up since the library. All the scowls and the glares, those are gone now and have been apologized for.
Despite the haze of desire, Valtiel notices their compromising position. "Danchou."
"Are you afraid of me?" he murmurs. His right hand leaves her thigh and strokes her cheek again, pushing away the pale blonde locks from her face.
"You make me feel safe," she says, her thumb tracing his lower lip and down to his jaw. Her heart is still pounding and her mind swirling from desire. "But I am afraid of what might happen."
"Me too."
"You…" She does a double take. "What?"
"I am afraid." He smiles to see her confused, to see her brows furrowed together. It makes him chuckle and nuzzles closer to her, nose to nose. "Remember that I have never been with anyone. All those women you think I seduced over the years—I may have shared their beds, but I never shared my heart and soul."
Chrollo stares at her face, admiring her expression. "With you, I am afraid of so many things."
She understands his meaning and nods. "And this," she mumbles, "do you want this?"
"I want it with you," he whispers. "Not with anyone else. More than anything in this world." He smiles and draws her in for another lingering kiss. They part after a few sensual strokes.
"But not too soon, I hope. I understand that this is all very new to you, and to myself," he continues. "I would rather want it not to be so soon. We have time. We have time to learn everything that we have to learn, including this."
He reaches down to touch the inside of her thigh again. He grins roguishly when she blushes at the implication.
"Will you wait until the time is right then?"
"I will," he promises.
She checks at his face, at the constant smile playing on his lips. She could still feel his entire weight pressed against her, the length of his body between her legs. She reaches out for his hair, his cheek, his jaw and commits everything to memory. New memories to replace the olden, forgotten ones. Somehow, this is familiar, to memorize someone's face and place it inside her heart.
At first, it seemed impossible to her. He is a thief and a murderer, Class-A with a bounty on his head, always on the run for his life, always living on the edge of danger. When she had first kissed him on the beach and he left her, she never thought this would now be possible.
She keeps stroking his face. "Jeg skarrel rie," she murmurs absent-mindedly.
His eyebrows furrow in amusement. "What did you say?"
That wakes her up from the enchantment. She flinches and blinks. "Did I say that aloud?"
"Yes, you did," he chirps, dark eyes twinkling.
"I thought I said that in my head."
"What does it mean?"
"Nope." Already embarrassed, she turns her back to him and buries her face into a pillow.
"You must tell me," he insists as he bounces on the bed, making her bounce with him. She shakes her head and groans into the pillow. "As the Phantom Troupe leader, I command you to answer my question," he adds mischievously.
Her voice is muffled. "Not telling, Danchou!"
He frowns and spoons behind her, guiding her to roll around for him. He finds that she is blushing quite madly and could not help but pinch her rosy cheeks. "Let's go to sleep, then."
She sighs in relief. Really, Chrollo would be the death of her. In the darkness, she reaches out to touch his face, to comb her fingers through his dark tresses. She smiles against the thin fabric of his shirt. "You have very soft hair," she notes.
"I have good hygiene," he agrees. "And good genes."
"You never tell me about your parents," she whispers, putting her hand over his heart.
"I have none. None that I can remember. None that you and I should worry about."
"Do you never wonder what happened to them?"
"No." He frowns in the shadows, but does not blame her for her curiosity. It is bound to happen. Questions like these are bound to be asked. The only surprising thing is the fact that she waited this long to mention it. He fakes a yawn to escape her inquiries. "I never think of them, I don't think I even remember."
"Let us leave this talk for some other time," he dismisses gently, so as not to offend her.
He kisses her forehead and tucks the blanket under her chin. He wraps both arms around her smaller frame and rests his cheek on the crown of her head. He feels her nuzzle closer, as the thunder rumbles louder outside. Such unrelenting weather.
"Good night, Valtiel."
"Good night, Danchou."
"Chrollo," he corrects.
"Danchou."
He just laughs.
Their next destination is surprisingly nearby, only three counties away. The target is a research paper about the Toryuhun culture, written by a now-deceased archaeologist and was auctioned five years ago in Yorknew City's Southernpiece Auction.
Chrollo steals a car for their journey and never misses the look of disappointment in her face. He winks at her, provocatively so, and she shuffles into the passenger seat and produces Giraud's book from their bag.
They drive out of the country for another day and a half, listening to classical music on the radio with the Danchou explaining some biblical references that the piece might have. Valtiel listens half-heartedly, nodding every now and then, curled up in her seat and immersed in Giraud's book. At lunch, they would stop at a dreary gas station and help themselves with meager food, which he does not like except for the pudding on sale.
After that: drive again. Chrollo offers that she should drive, so that he could get some rest and read a book for a change, but she is obstinate that she shouldn't.
"Why not?" he asks, and she gives one try, almost crashing their one-and-only car into a tree, and the entire offer is dropped. She laughs and squeezes his hand as an apology.
They reach the end of one country, and embark on another ten-hour flight to another one. Shalnark's information is on-point, leaving no details behind.
Savernake City is a coastal city and the largest in the country's district. There are rivers connected to the sea that wound around the city, markets with their vibrant awnings, and the famed healing baths, which Chrollo is interested to try. For now, at least, they find a hotel that overlooks the sea and settle there.
That night, while Valtiel is admiring how the city lights are blending with the waves, Chrollo comes back from food-hunting and lays down their dinner, the first proper meal after three days of travelling.
"I went out to scout our esteemed doctor," he says, pertaining to the doctor who had bought the research paper for about 380 million Jenny. "He works at the Savernake Hospital and seems to have a habit of being picky with his patients."
"A doctor, is it?" she hums and steals a lamb-stuffed dumpling from his plate.
"Yes." He retaliates by snatching one of the crunchy prawns she has in plenty.
"So what's our play?" She takes her plate and shields it with her arms.
He laughs. "Doctor Wentworth already has a bad reputation for being picky, but since he is also a high-ranking member of Savernake's society, it allows him to keep his status here. If you want to acquire information from him, you can infiltrate the hospital either as a patient or as a nurse."
He gives a thoughtful pause. "Given that he has a bad record with his patients, I thought perhaps posing as a nurse would give us a slightly higher chance of having an audience with him."
"Posing as a nurse—why am I not surprised?" she mumbles drily.
"Well, it is better than to come to him as a patient," he points out. "And if you present yourself without a disguise, who knows who'd recognize you? You were famous in Heavens Arena."
"I wouldn't call myself famous," she grumbles.
"It adds to our problems. I would rather we take the fastest, easiest course on this one."
"While I'm infiltrating, what are you doing then?"
"I could chaperone you."
"Right."
"Or I could pose as a doctor?" he suggests with a smirk. "I understand that you have misgivings in dealing with our target, but I am not telling you that you should do it alone. I could keep watch outside the door or pretend to be one of the doctors. It should be easy. Though killing our doctor and be on our merry way is—"
"I am not blasting through the window and killing a doctor. All I need is the research paper and if he would give it to me, then we shall be on our merry way."
"It costs 380 million Jenny. You can't expect him to hand it over willingly."
"But would you still pose as a doctor?" she asks.
"Of course. We could level the entire city with our joined forces."
"We're not killing anyone."
"At this rate, not yet." And he winks again.
Valtiel waits in their agreed location. The hospital's chapel is small and dark, located far from the bustling and chemical-smelling corridors. It has only five pews on each side, a small altar with a golden jeweled crucifix, and tapestries of biblical scenes. She clasps her hands together, trying not to squirm in this getup and focusing more on the image she should be portraying.
She admires the tapestries for a while, and then senses his approach. She turns for him.
Chrollo is wearing a full doctor outfit: a white lab coat, with an inner black shirt, pants, and shoes. He wears black leather gloves and has a stethoscope hanging around his neck, a clipboard in one arm, and pen in the other. What catches Valtiel's attention more is his raven hair down and the pair of glasses.
She squints at him. The glasses are more on the nerdy side of things: black horn-rimmed glasses that are somewhat oversized. His equally dark eyes blink from behind the lenses, an innocent blink but it conveys a hundred secret pleasures. Instead of looking like the nerd he is supposed to be, he looks…
She blushes and turns elsewhere.
"What?" he asks softly. He swipes his fingers through his bangs. "You don't like it? I had thought you always liked my hair down. Shal thinks it brings the girls in."
"Oh, sure, I'm glad your hair is not slicked backwards with that motor oil you're using."
"It's not motor oil," he says with a slight puff of his cheeks. "It's—never mind. You, on the other hand, look beautiful."
"Yeah, yeah. We're in the middle of a mission."
"No, really." He laughs and narrows his eyes beneath those glasses, letting his gaze roam all over her body.
She is wearing a pale pink nurse uniform, a blouse and pencil skirt, white stockings, and shoes. She has a matching cap pinned to the crown of her head. Chrollo tilts her head sideways, noting in appreciation how her platinum blonde hair is pulled up into a tight bun.
He smirks and murmurs, "See? Really beautiful." He leans forward and grazes his lips over hers, teasingly biting at her lower lip. "So ravishing, my love."
"Careful," she admonishes. "We're inside a chapel."
The Spider leader glances up at the golden crucifix hovering above them both, and then flashes a roguish grin to her. "Indeed we are, but if you have to confess anything, don't. You are ravishingly tempting, but the sin is all mine. But who will not be tempted by you?"
She rolls her eyes. "I'm not here to play these games with you."
"Oh, I know it. We can play these games later." He tugs at her skirt, provocative. "In bed."
"Enough." She swats his hand away. "We're in the middle of a mission. Tell me something more useful than your constant teases, Danchou." She sidesteps away from him and takes a seat on one of the pews. The Spider leader follows her lead.
"I borrowed a clipboard from the nurse station," he reports dutifully. "It lists the reports of some patients and new others who are trying to land a good doctor. These poor fellows must be thinking that Doctor Wentworth might give them a chance."
"I need you to study these details," he continues. "That'll be a sure-win to not rouse any suspicions. Any other means to entrap him are all at your discretion. Anything else?"
"And what will you do while I'm in the office?"
"I will be around," he says and stands up. He offers an arm to her, and they leave the chapel as one. There are few hospital staff here.
"It'd be less inconspicuous if I find the office by myself," Valtiel mumbles to him. "A doctor and a nurse together would raise attention."
"So, find the doctor and I shall keep watch," he agrees. "If he tries to touch you—"
"He won't," she says, so exasperated at his step-by-step guiding and mollycoddling as if she has not done this before for months. She bares her teeth at him in a hiss. "Hisoka-san and Fei-san put more trust in me than you do."
Both of them check at themselves at this sudden exclamation.
Chrollo is first to compose himself. He kisses the back of her hand. "Like I said, you can do everything at your discretion," he soothes her. "Just be careful."
"I know." She nods, half-apologetic for her outburst and half-standing on her pride. It is not at all dishonest, what she told him. She strokes his cheek and steps away. "Just be on watch. I will be back soon," she says over her shoulder, disappearing out of the hallway.
The office is on the fourth floor, towards the farthest room in the corridor. The staff and patients alike come and go in large groups. There is a brass plate nailed on the polished door—Doctor Miles Wentworth. With the many nurses and patients around, she wants to be as stealthy as she could. She doesn't sense any presence from inside the room, so she makes a quick work on the closed door—unlocked, thank god—and closes it behind her again.
Her eyes roam around the room, to the several certificates and awards on the wall, to another table filled with a collection of trophies and plaques, then to the bookshelf pressed on the western wall. Medical books, procedures, thesis. Some magazines with Wentworth's face printed on the covers. She approaches the shelf and purses her lips.
The research paper is not here.
Next she rummages through his drawers, thumbing through the folders and skimming over his own students' written theses. Not here, either.
She slams the drawer close with a thud.
Suddenly, a pair of male and female voices echo from the hallway outside.
"Please take one more look at him, sir!" the woman is pleading, almost at the edge of hysterical.
"Mrs. Audley, I cannot do anymore than I already have—"
"Please!" The woman is wailing now. Valtiel cringes at the pitiful sound. "My husband needs an operation, Doctor Wentworth! You're the only one in the hospital who can—"
"Really, Mrs. Audley—" the doctor sighs.
"We can pay!"
The wailing transitions into shrieks. The doctor loses his patience and there is a crisp smack, flesh upon flesh, coming from the hallway. Valtiel is so shocked that the doctor hit a woman in a public place, that she notices too late that he is already opening the door of his office.
Doctor Wentworth's cheeks are flushed with unchecked rage. He is a big man, with broad shoulders and a strong chin. His greenish-gray eyes would have been quite enchanting if they were not dark with contempt at Mrs. Audley and at Valtiel herself.
"I'm—I'm very sorry," Valtiel stammers, on her way to leave the office.
"No, no." Wentworth makes a grand show of helping Mrs. Audley back to her feet, dusting off her plain beige skirts, and drawing her to the elegant high-backed chair with velvet cushions.
Audley looks disgusted by the act, but says nothing.
The doctor smiles kindly at Valtiel. "Forgive us, we were having a discussion," he says, rounding towards his mahogany desk. "I didn't expect a visitor today."
"I didn't mean to barge in like this," Valtiel says, standing near Mrs. Audley's chair. She hugs the clipboard to her chest and starts running experiments on the doctor.
She stares into Wentworth's bright green-grey eyes and he stares back. Under her lashes, she sees the smile playing on his lips, curved in his amusement.
Wentworth leans back in his chair. "I see you have a clipboard," he remarks. "It must be the reports from the station." Mrs. Audley flinches as the doctor puts out his hand. "May I see it?"
Valtiel moves towards the table. Wentworth's eyes are on the movements of her legs, how the tight skirt brunches upwards with every step. Like a conscious young woman, she modestly tugs her skirts down again and she notices the small quirk of his lips. She glances once again at the older woman and Mrs. Audley wrinkles her nose.
"Ah, you have my list of patients," says the doctor.
"Yes, including a Mr. John Audley, sir," Valtiel answers, goading him.
Any egotistical person would not have the nerve to reject anyone, not while anyone is watching. She dares him to reject Audley one more time.
"I thought it is about time that Mr. Audley gets his operation. His condition is quite severe and none of the doctors is knowledgeable enough for the procedure. All they could do now is alleviate Mr. Audley's pain while you are deciding the best procedure for him."
While you're lounging in your ugly chair, more like—but she bites her tongue against that. She is a lady, and Danchou taught her to be courteous.
"Please, sir." Mrs. Audley is back to begging. "My husband, he needs…"
"I know what he needs." Wentworth discards the clipboard on his table and forces a rather wry smile at the woman. "Congratulations, Mrs. Audley. I shall be overseeing your husband's operations within three days. For now, I am leaving him in the care of Doctor Reed."
Valtiel looks down on the woman's face. The brown in Audley's eyes starts glowing with relief. It is as if she has aged ten years younger. Her shoulders drop, a great weight has fallen away.
Mrs. Audley rises from the chair with a grateful nod to the doctor. Valtiel steps back to give her space, but the woman pats her on the arm, a mother's warm touch, and whispers, "Thank you very much."
She smiles back as the woman takes her leave from both of them.
"I have been working in this hospital for thirty years, yet I haven't seen you once," the doctor observes, once the older woman is gone. "You seem young. Are you still in school?"
"Yes."
"Oh? What is your field?"
Thievery and conning people. "Pediatrics."
"A fine field." He laces his fingers together, business-like. "Is there something else, Miss…?"
"Eleison," she mumbles, sheepish. She stands before his grand table with her hands clasped again, her body language incandescently modest and shy.
She supposes men like it when women are shy. Inwardly, she is grateful that she has to play the part. Anything more than modest and borders on seductive and sensual is Pakunoda's specialty. Valtiel can't ever hope to compare to the Spider.
"I see. So then, is there something else, Miss Eleison?" Wentworth asks, his eyes on the hem of her skirt and on the white stockings.
"Oh, there's nothing more, sir." She bows at the waist. She doesn't need him if the research paper is not in his office.
His eyes immediately try to take a peek at her blouse. She straightens herself and aims for the door again when—
"If you're not busy, we can talk."
Hand around the knob, she smiles over her shoulder, allowing herself this small victory. "No, thank you. My boyfriend is waiting outside."
She plunges herself back into the hallway and turns for a corner. At once, Chrollo Lucilfer—still in his handsome doctor disguise—materializes by her side and wraps a black trench coat over her shoulders, as if to shield her nurse uniform from the many patients and doctors.
He takes her hand and leads her to the hospital's parking lot. "How did it go?"
"I didn't find it in his office," she reports in a cheerful tone.
The Danchou shuffles in after her and drops without grace on the seat. "Did he try anything funny?" he asks in a very serious and authoritative tone. He clutches the steering wheel but makes no attempts to start the car unless she answers.
"He tried flirting with me." She shrugs. "Keyword: tried."
"I'll kill him," Chrollo swears venomously and starts the engine.
Author's Notes: Happy Valentine's Day! 💞 I hope you guys enjoy today, while I sit in my room and play video games all day! Living the dream, amirite, single people? 😂
I also hope you enjoy this little chapter with the forever duo, Chrollo and Val. Special thanks to Danchou for initiating a lovey dovey session. I thoroughly enjoyed writing that part, LOL. A handsy Chrollo Lucilfer is my religion at this point. ̶(̶I̶'̶m̶ ̶s̶o̶r̶r̶y̶ ̶I̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶l̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶m̶u̶c̶h̶.̶)̶
*ElaizaElric - Fei may or may have not caught some ~feelings~. Not necessarily romantic, but ~feelings~. Thank you for reviewing!
*Kojima Miharu - I had considered Val asking him about the Kurta Clan, but Danchou is too close for comfort. I think Val is wary to let Chrollo get the slightest whiff, because I'm almost 99% sure that Chrollo is gonna rekt some things. Also Val putting him in his place is just so damn satisfying. Haha! Thank you for always reviewing! Take care!
Also, I meant to update "Araneæ Diem" today, but for some reason, I am suffering through a writer's block. It is supposed to be Shalnark's date now, but for some reason, I can't think of a proper date for Shalnark to save my life. I just have this solid idea, that his date is definitely going to be fun and unique, given his character and personality, but I'm surprisingly at a loss! If anyone could give me suggestions, pour some oil to get my brain gears working, I would love you forever!
For now, I give you this. Thank you for reading, as always. To everyone who leaves comments or even lurkers, I thank you very much! Stay safe now! 🌹