Maka walked for a time. She didn't know where she was going, but her feet led her further and further away from the house. She climbed the snake fence that bordered the pasturelands around the ranch. She walked along the river, but after a while the bank steepened and the trail veered off into a stand of larches and yellow pines. The pine-spiced wind shrilled through the treetops. A blue jay followed after her, hopping from branch to branch. It cawed as if it was mocking her.

"Coward," it squawked. "Quitter, quitter . . ."

She emerged into a small moon-shaped meadow and took a deep breath. The air smelled sweet. Wildflowers decorated the meadow like the embroidered border of a schoolgirl's sampler. Tiny pink fairy slippers, white pinwheels and bottlebrush, and cheery yellow blossoms shaped like miniature sunflowers. The sun floated across a hazeless sky, gilding the wind-riffled grass with a shimmering light. A meandering line of willows followed the river, casting gentle shade onto water that rolled and shimmered like spilled coins.

Maka sank to her knees and exhaled sharply, letting the tall grass welcome her into its wispy embrace. Maka felt sheltered and safe, the grass was tall and inviting, growing well over her head once seated. No one would find her here.

She needed time to let the dust settle, to wrap her head around what had transpired between her and Soul.

Tempers had flared, but why?

There was underlying issues between them that she couldn't put her finger on. Instead of trying to figure out their differences they had opted to act like barbarians, swinging their fists and grunting and growling like animals. As shameful as it was, she had been the one to instigate it.

But why?

Was it because he had hurt her feelings?

She didn't know for sure, but nonetheless she had lashed out. It had felt good at the time, but now it left a hollow pit in her stomach.

She wondered if Soul would be furious with her still when she saw him again. He had tried to come to the house to see her, but she didn't know if it was to make things right or to finish pummeling her into a pulp. Either way she had run away before finding out, not wanting to face him. Maka was no coward, but she couldn't even look at him right now. The fight had been a heated ill tempered frenzie.

Soul had been the perfect storm of ire, fury, and joy.

His eyes had gone glassy, his bloody face caught somewhere between pain and ecstasy. It was a strange and beautiful thing to witness. She had been terrified and bewitched, all in the same breath.

This realization of her own emotions caused Maka to lower her head in her hands and groan inwardly. How could one be both afraid and pleased by that kind of situation?

Maybe her and Soul where more alike than either of them cared to notice.

Either way, they both had a lot of things they needed to work on.

Lately, Maka had come to really enjoy the time she spent with Soul. Now, she feared the bond that had slowly been growing had shattered. One fight had ruined their whole dynamic.

She desperately hoped it wouldn't be forever though.

She would apologize. Right or wrong it didn't matter. What mattered was getting them back on track. Maybe she was just a nuisance to him, a job and a chore. He had even said as much right before their altercation. But in her heart of hearts she hoped that if they mended this gap between them, and she worked hard enough, she would one day win his friendship. She wouldn't be a burden any longer.

Her heart, now feeling somewhat lighter, caused Maka laugh out loud.

Her laughter was snatched away by a sudden gust of wind, the sound lost in the endless whisper of grass and sky.

She needed to go find Soul, but she wasn't quite ready to leave this quiet meadow yet.

This land, beautiful and wild, was hers. It had her by the heartstrings and there was no going back.

Even if Soul said she didn't belong here she couldn't bring herself to believe it. This was her home now. Something unknown spoke to her, called her name, and knew her spirit. She was meant to be here, she could feel it in every breath she took.

Maka leaned back on her outstretched arms and looked at the sky. It was like staring into the bottom of a deep blue bowl. Nothing could be so blue and vast and empty as a Texas sky. She felt absurdly happy. She wanted to laugh some more, yet her silly eyes kept filling with tears.

Maka awoke some time later. She hadn't remembered falling asleep or even beeing that tired. Somehow though, she had curled up in the sweet smelling prairie grass and drifted off.

It was almost dark, a few stars already peeking through the heavens. She stretched lazily, her joins popping as she rose. She walked slowly back, casting one more wistful look at her beautiful meadow. If things didn't work out in the end, she would just come back here. She could easily live out her life here, alone and wild. If the animals and Indians could survive out in nature, so could she. Maka shook her head at the crazy notion. She couldn't think like that, she had to have faith that everything would work out; despite the hardships ahead, her gender, and the immense hole she had dug with her lies.

Soul sat on the ledge of the barn's hay loft. Being up so high he could clearly see in all dirrections. His feet swung back and forth in the air, his mind both chaotic and absent. He couldn't consecrate on one particular thought, so he let his mind wander as his eyes scanned the prairie.

How long had he been here? Restlessly watching, waiting for the Kid to return. Didn't the damn fool know how dangerous it was to go out alone?

He knows he shouldn't care so much, but he does, and that terrible ache where his heart should be won't go away.

What was it about this kid, that caused him to feel so suddenly and so fiercely. Their relationship so far had been nothing but turbulent, and usually that's when he would distance himself from others. People were cruel and selfish, he was better off alone. That was a fact of life he had learned from a terribly young age. Abuse and violence was all he had grown up knowing. If it hadn't been for Stein... well, that was something he definitely didn't want to dwell on right now.

Movement from the north caught his attention, disrupting his darkening thoughts. He squinted hard trying to make out who it was in the gathering darkness. Soul let out a shakey breath as the shape turned into the kid. His relief was short lived as the kid got closer though.

He moved as stiffly as a rheumatic old man, and his face was as bloodied and raw as a side of beef hanging in a butcher's window. Hot white pain stabbed at Soul's chest.

He had done that to the kid.

As he passed by the barn Soul observed him silently from his high perch. The kid's face was puffy and streaked, like he had been crying. Soul could have easily called out to him, or made an effort to stop him. But he didn't. The words he had wanted to say seemed caught in his throat.

Soul had always strived to keep his emotions in check, but tonight they were running rampant.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" Soul cussed under his breath.

There is something missing in me, he thought. Great empty gaps in my heart. Or it was as if something had seized his heart long ago and squeezed and squeezed, had wrung it dry until it was this hard little shrunken ball in his chest.

Out on the prairie a coyote bayed. There was so much loneliness in the sound.

His emotions were too unstable. If he tried talking to the kid now he would probably end up making things worse. So he watched the kid go until he dissapeared into the house.

For now the kid was home and safe; it was enough to slightly curb his anxiousness.

He pulled a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and brought it to his mouth. He rarely smoked anymore, but Black Star had stuffed a few in his hand earlier, claiming that he needed them more. The smell of freshly lit tobacco calmed his nerves. A fresh flask of whiskey resided in his back pocket as well, he'd make use of it later to take the edge off the long day.

He would try again with the kid tomorrow, once he felt more like himself. He just needed some rest, even though he knew he wouldn't get any sleep tonight. If his mind was in this much turmoil, no telling how bad his dreams would be tonight.

Maka lay in her bed, waiting and hoping. She listened to the wind as it came and went in large gusts.

Maybe there was a storm coming?

Although, Maka had noticed that it was windy a lot here in this part of the world.

She stared at the ceiling, the hours slowly dragging by, but nothing. He never came inside. He probably decided to sleep out at the bunk house tonight.

It was probably for the best anyways, she needed to get some sleep. Maka tossed and turned though, slumber stubbornly eluding her. The wind continued to shriek, rattling the eaves and causing the cottonwood tree next to the house to slap against the siding.

Finally, as the clock down stairs chimed 12 times, she rolled out of bed. Her mind was too restless for sleep. She crept on quiet feet out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and across the house to the kitchen.

A plate of cold food sat on the counter. Soul hadn't even eaten his dinner, and in her short time of knowing him that was very unheard of.

Did he hate her so much that he refused to eat dinner with her now?

Maka picked up a spoon and stuck it angrily into his mashed potatoes. If he wasn't going to eat it, then she would. She shoved two massive bites in her mouth.

Her table manners really were getting more deplorable living here.

She swallowed thickly, trying not to choke; the mashed potatoes were cold and unappealing.

She set her spoon down and turned to leave, food was not the answer to her sleepless night.

Her feet took her to the front door before she had even realized it. Maybe a quick walk would set her mind at ease?

She lifted a warm cloak off the peg and wrapped it around her night clothes. Even though the days were extremely warm, it was still a little chilly at night.

The hinges squealed when she opened the door, and she shut it quickly behind her. The now silent trees cast long, dark shadows over the land. A hard, brittle moon drifted in and out of the clouds, and the tops of the cottonwoods rustled at a touch of the grass-scented wind. The road and corral and the pastures beyond were shot with moonlit patches. The night was beautiful and ominous, and it filled her with a loneliness that was both good and sad.

The moon drew her, and she stepped out into the yard and began walking toward the corral. Cool mud oozed over her bare feet, sending shivers up her legs. A flurry of wind buffeted her. She grew still, for she could hear another, stronger gust coming. A sound like low thunder, then a whistling shriek as it shrilled through the cottonwoods, and the slap of it against her body. It was as if the wind was trying to swat her off the face of the earth. Something within her wanted to shriek back at the wind. Or with it.

A scarf of clouds wrapped itself around the moon, enshrouding the land in darkness. The wind died, leaving a silence that was a sound in itself—a rushing noise in her ears that might have been the wind coming back, or her own breath. A coyote yipped, breaking the spell. An uneasy tremor ran down her spine. She'd read in one of her novels that Indians made animal noises, signaling to one another as they crept up on unsuspecting settlements with their scalping knives. A stick broke, a bush rustled. A silent scream crawled up her throat, choking off her breath. A red eye glowed in the dark—then the scent of tobacco came to her on the wind. The clouds passed, unveiling the moon. The outline of his body was stark and black against the horizon. Like the pines, he was motionless. But she knew he saw her, had been watching her all along. The red eye arced and flared in the darkness, trailing sparks.

"Evans?" She asked, taking a hesitant step toward him. He didn't reply, instead took another long drag from his cigarette. She took another two steps toward him before he finally spoke, his voice low and threatening.

"Don't."

That one word was loaded with implication. Maka stopped dead, her body shivering from more than the night air.

"Can we talk?" She whispered.

"Not tonight."

"But, I just..."

"No!" He growled, cutting her off.

His shadow moved, coming toward her, powerful and menacing. She whirled and ran for the house. She slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, shaking, her eyes closed tight. She brought a trembling fist up to her breast to quiet the hard, fast thrumming of her heart.

How silly she had been, worried about Indians. When what was really out there was so much worse.

The sun had not been up for long.

He moseyed along the trail toward home. He walked at a leisurely pace, leading his pinto. He was walking because his horse had thrown a shoe. Most of the cowboys he'd trailed with would be morally outraged at the idea of having to walk. Secretly he liked it. He liked the soft give of the earth beneath his boots.

As he walked, he opened his eyes and breathed deeply, letting the earth and the sky sink into him. He loved this land, loved its wildness and the sad, sweet lonesomeness of it. The way the prairie latched onto the wide and empty sky. The way the sun dusted the buffalo grass with gold. The way the wind howled and lashed in pain and loneliness, as wild as any animal and as unforgiving as time.

He paused on a rise that overlooked the dip in the valley that sheltered the house, barn and pastureland. The timothy grass was ripening; he could smell its sweetness on the wind. It made good hay, and they would mow it next month, he and the men, and put it up as winter feed for the saddle horses. It was part of a cycle of work that followed the seasons and melded the days and brought him a sense of belonging. For so long his home had been none existant. For so long he had owned nothing but himself. Now the land owned him, and this frightened him. He didn't like caring so deeply about something he could lose.

Thunder rumble in the far off distance, in that place where earth and sky meet. It was early morning, but there was no sunshine. Heavy grey clouds blocked out the sky; charged and restless. Soul felt that it matched his mood quite well. He hadn't slept a wink last night and he had probably indulged in his whiskey stash a little too hard, but oddly, he felt much better today.

Well, except for his face; it still felt raw and angry.

He breathed a deep sigh though, his head feeling much clearer now. The meeting with the kid last night had been unfortunate, but maybe today would be better. He had been three sheets to the wind when the kid had appeared last night, and even in his inebriated state he knew that a talk then and there wouldn't have mended any fences between them. In fact, he was sure that chasing off the kid was the best possible outcome last night. Today he was level headed and his emotions were back in check. It worried him though, that he still felt a roiling beneath the surface. The taste of blood and the reckless abandon he felt yesterday had left their mark on him. He had enjoyed it. Had craved it. It was enough to make his frenzied heart shudder at the thought. So he pushed those feelings down deeper, those thoughts of violence, heat and war. He wasn't at war, there were no battles to be waged here on this quiet ranch. He refused to let those feeling resurface again. He wouldn't become what he hated. He would not become a savage.

Tsubaki had met Maka at the table this morning with a message from Soul. She was to go find him after breakfast. He was ready to talk.

After last night's ordeal Maka wasn't sure she wanted to talk to him. She felt unsettled about his erratic behavior; his moods and temperament ever changing.

There was something wild within him. Something untouchable. She feared it and envied it, all in the same breath.

How would it feel, to live ones life that way? Turbulent and fearce, like the wind and the sky.

There was more to this man than she originally thought.

After she finished her pancakes she went out into the busy yard, in search of a certain volatile cowboy. Today the men were more at ease, they didn't seem so rushed and pressed for time.

The wagons were heavy with their haul, and ready for their journey. Maka wondered if they were still here because the weather had delayed their departure. She felt a small pang of envy, wishing she could go with them. It was probably for the best though. Soul had been right, she really didn't know anything about round ups or cattle. Still, it stung her pride.

Black Star was splitting firewood next to a lean to out by the coral.

The sound of thunder peirced the air as Black Star raised the ax above his head and brought it down. The iron blade split the wood with a blow that reverberated against the cloud-heavy sky.

"Hey English, you're looking chipper today. How's the face feeling?" He asked, pausing in his work.

"Bloody terrible." Maka groused, coming to stand next to her friend.

"Have you seen Evans?"

"I think he's down at the smithy, his horse threw a shoes earlier."

Maka located the building they used to forge iron for the ranch. Shadows danced in the red glow beyond the smithy's open door. With this storm brewing, it was too hot to be shaping a horseshoe. But then, maybe Soul ought to get used to such an environment, Maka thought with a sour frown, hell-bent as the man was.

"What kind of mood was he in?" Maka asked hesitantly.

Black Star lifted the ax again and paused to cocking his head to the left. He was listening, but not for more thunder. He listened for the rhythmic pang-ping of metal banging on metal coming from the smithy.

"Sounds like he's still a little hot under the collar, but that's to be expected. It's been a while since the man has had that much excitment." Black Star chuckles as he shatters another log down the middle.

"He calls that excitment?" Maka asked, not able to keep the displeasure out of her voice.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but the guy is kind of wound up tight. All he does is work. He doesn't know how to relax or let go like most people do."

Maka nodded, considering his words. It was true, she had noticed the first time she met Soul how tightly wound he was. The first time she had hear him laugh had been quite the shock to her; she had believed the man incapable of it for the longest time.

"Wish me luck." Maka muttered as she left to cross the yard to the forge. Black Star chuckled and went back to chopping firewood.

It was time to clear the air with Soul. With words, not fists. Soul's pinto was tethered just inside the smithy door. Maka ran a hand over the broad sorrel and white rump as she skirted around it. The pinto nickered in greeting.

Heat and the acrid smell of hot iron and rank sweat washed over her as she slipped through the door. Soul stood at the stone forge turning a piece of iron in the burning coals. Ruddy light limned his alabaster hair and glazed the flaring bones of his cheeks, casting deep shadows in the hollows beneath. He looked like the devil come up from hell. A devil who'd had a dandy of a fight along the way, what with his purple eye and scabbed lip.

Maka felt a small twinge of wickedness and remorse knowing she had caused those wounds.

He acknowledged her presence with a glance but no greeting. He flipped the iron bar over in the coals, and they both watched it heat from red to yellow-hot. The split skin on the knuckles of the hand that gripped the tongs had already started to heal. Maka touched her own cheek, feeling the angry purple bruises.

"I wanted to say..." Maka faltered, trying to find the right words. She had rehearsed in her head all night what she was going to say when she finally talked to him. Now that he was standing in front of her, all her well thought over words dried up in her throat.

"I'm sorry, kid." He said quickly, cutting her off, not quite meeting her eyes as he said it. It was the first words spoken between them since the fight. Maka hadn't been expecting an apology, she felt rather winded by his sudden affirmation.

"No, I'm the one who should be apologizing!" Maka exclaimed a little too forcefully. "My behavior was deplorable, to say the least."

Soul laid the white-hot bar of iron across the pointed end of the anvil. He brought the hammer down with an echoing, singing clatter and a strength that made the muscles bulge in his arm and back.

"No need to say it kid. We were both in the wrong. We let our tempers get the best of us."

Soul worked the bellows. Air whooshed on the fire, and sparks flew. Orange light flared on his face, highlighting the fading bruises. His eyes were puffy and red and sunken into his head. From the looks of those eyes he had been punishing the whiskey hard. Was that why he had acted so strange last night?

"I feel what happened was more than just our tempers." She said after a time.

A charged silence crackled the air as he stared into her upturned face, and she stared back.

"Why do you dislike me so?" She asked, trying to keep the wobble from her voice.

Soul rested the hammer's peen on the anvil and leaned over it, bringing him face to face with her, eye to eye, and Maka watched those eyes turn as cold and flat as copper platters.

Outside, lightning flashed white as a winter moon, smelling of sulfur, followed almost immediately by a crack of thunder. Even before he spoke, Maka knew the words he was about to say were difficult ones to utter.

"I don't dislike you. I just hate the way you make me feel sometimes."

"How do I make you feel?" Maka asked, her heart thudding hard in her chest and her knees feeling suddenly very weak.

"Jealous." He murmured, his voice so low she almost missed it.

"Jealous? Why on earth would you be jealous of me?"

It was so ridiculous, Maka almost laughed out loud. She bit her tongue though, not wanting to discourage him from speaking further. As long as she was getting him to open up and talk she would tread softly.

"I'm jealous because you're spoiled, because you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You've had everything handed to you while people like me have to scrimp and claw for the scraps." He said, his gaze intent and unapologetic.

"You dislike me because I was born into wealth?" Maka grit out, her resolve to tread softly already slipping away rather rapidly.

"Fuck, I hate you're ricky rich kind. You don't understand." He growled, as he thrust his half formed horseshoe back into the fire.

"Well I beg your pardon." Maka huffed, her eyes narrowing. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly dripping in wealth and good fortune right now."

Mockingly she spread her arms wide and spun in place, gesturing to their surroundings.

"I hate that starchy attitude of yours. It just proves my point. Why the hell are you even here? Was your fancy London life not enough for you? Did you come here, just to take more for your liking?" He shouted, suddenly inches from her face.

"I left because I had to, because I had nothing!" She screamed, all the anguish and hurt leaving her body in that one confession.

She glared at him, and Soul took an uncomfortable step back, trying to put some distance between them. She didn't know how, but every time they fought they both somehow ended up being far to close to one another.

She hung her head in defeat, or maybe it was shame, either way, saying it out loud was not easy for her.

"I have nothing to my name. There is no one in all of England who misses me. I am destitute, and completely alone in this world."

Maka bit the inside of her cheek, to keep the press of hot tears she feels threatening. She would not cry in front of him.

Soul is quiet. So silent that Maka wonders if he has slipped out of the forge. She opens her eyes and though her head is still hung she sees his booted feet shuffling in the dirt floor. She has made him feel uncomfortable.

Good. She thinks as a deep heart wrenching sob threatens to work it's way out.

She needs to push forward, to say what needed to be said, but it's hard with her eyes burning and her voice cracking.

She needs him to know though, that she's sorry too.

"I'm sorry that I caused a fight. I know now that I only did it because I was angry and hurt. I was hurt by your words, when you called my useless and spoiled. I was angry and fearful that I am not welcome here. Scared, once again, I was going to lose my home. I know you only think that I'm a spoiled kid, and maybe that's who I was, once upon a time, but that's not who I am now. I want you to know that I'm striving, I'm trying to become a good man. And with your guidance, I know I'll be alright."

Her lip quivered as she stared at the ground, not able to look at him.

She expected him to mock her, yell, or to confirm that her worst fears were true. But with her eye still down cast she couldn't read his face.

Finally, after a time, he spoke. His voice oddly rough.

"I'm sorry too kid. I shouldn't have said those things or hit you. I deserved every punch you threw."

He sighs heavily and glances at her down turned face, wishing she would look at him.

"You make me feel other things too. Things that I try to bottle up. Like worry and doubt." He whispers quietly as he lays a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I thought you had a great life. A great upbringing. When I had nothing."

He cringes at his next words, his mouth twisting in a humorless smile.

"I had worse than nothing. All I've ever known is violence and death. Stein, I owe him my life and my loyalty. Stein is all I have, and in a way, I'm losing him to you too. You're his blood, not mine. I'm losing this whole place to you. It's going to be yours one day, not mine. And there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I'm scared too, kid. That's why I lashed out at you."

In that moment Maka understood. Despite her eyes brimming with tears she looked up at him, at his deep and troubled eyes. She could see it there, plain as day.

He was afraid to lose his home and his family. Just like she was. She knew his fears, as well as she knew the sorrows of her own heart. In a lot of ways he and herself were the same. They both shared that vast empty place in their hearts. That place that has no name or reason.

Without thinking, Maka threw her arms around him and buried her head in his chest and wept bitter tears all down his shirt. She felt Soul's whole body stiffening. She couldn't blame him, it was an awkward embrace and very impromptu, but she didn't care. All the loneliness, fear, and uncertainty spilled out of her in great shaking sobs.

Hesitantly, Soul wrapped his arms around her.

"Let it all out kid. It's alright." He murmured softly.

Maka did just that, she cried into his chest for a long while. The whole time Soul remained quiet, patiently waiting as she grieved.

"I've tried so hard, to fit in here." Maka whispered, tears running down her face finally slowing.

"I know kid, you're doing a good job." Soul assured her.

"I want to stay, here with you. With Tsubaki and Black Star. I don't want to take this place from you. I want this to be our home. I want to work hard and make it ours." She said between sniffles.

Soul's hands gripped her shoulders tightly as he pulled her from his chest. She looked up at him, her eye watery and red, a question stuck in her throat.

Please let me stay.

Soul looked just as haggard, his eyes shining bright.

"I'd like that too." He said, his voice uneven.

He felt a fool, for being fearful of the kid taking everything from him. That's not the kind of man the kid was. He knew that now. It just took them both speaking their fears outloud for them both to find resolve.

"Maybe, you make me feel a little afraid too." He said, averting his intense eyes away from hers.

"You belong here though, just as much as I do, and together we can make this place a great home, for us and the others. If we stick together, there's no need to be afraid." Soul said, his voice thick.

He blinks really hard. Like he's trying not to tear up.

"Damn forge heat, makes my eyes hurt." He grumps as he turns his back to her and starts to work the forge again. Maka smiles, a warm feeling settling in her chest.

"Thank you for reassuring me, Evans."

"Do you feel better now?" He asks lightly, trying not to show too much concern.

"Oh yes, much." Maka sighs content.

"I'm sorry about the tears. I don't know where they came from." She says as she wipes her face with her sleeve.

"It's okay. It sounds like you never got to grieve for your parents properly."

Maka hiccups and nods even though he can't see her with his back turned.

So much had happened to her in a short amount of time. In a way, she hadn't had the time to cry or even felt safe enough to let her thoughts out. Not until now. Standing here in this forge, with a wild and yet wise cowboy. She felt safe here with him.

"Maybe you shouldn't hold things in for so long. It's not healthy." He scolds mildly as he inspects his forgotten horseshoe.

"That's mighty big advise from a man who keeps his emotions bottled up too." Maka laughs softly.

He grunts in acknowledgment, but doesn't comment further, though his ears turn a suspicious shade of pink.

"I must also apologize for stepping on your toes infront of the men. I was out of line."

"I reckon my pride's tougher than you think, kid." he teases as he picks up his hammer.

Maka hooks a hip onto a workbench. She enjoys watching Soul work at anything—working a plow, riding a horse, fighting, shaping a horseshoe. His movements are spare, graceful, but underneath there is this tension within him that gives an edge to even the most mundane moments. In the light of the forge his injured face almost looks beautiful.

"Your face looks kinda rough there, Evans." Maka jokes, knowing they both look a mess.

Soul squints at her through the murky smoke from the forge. Sweat dripping from the hair that falls over his brow. A smile plays at the corner of his mouth, deepening the faint groove in his cheek.

"You oughta see the other fella's face."

Maka looks at him, and a logjam of emotions presses against her chest. Exasperation and fondness, envy, admiration, confusion, and love. Mostly love.

Cold terror, grips her heart at this realization.

Slowly, but surely, she was falling in love with this man.