A/N: For those who are fandom-blind, I'll let canon!Shawn explain Psych-verse's Santa Barbara: "It's the murder capital of the world!"

Gus drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green. He knew his mother had been planning on being out of the house for most of the afternoon; he needed to get home so Shawn wasn't stuck on his knees for longer. The light turned and he accelerated as fast as he dared. The fast music from the radio fed his impatience and seemed to dare him to push the speed limit even further.

The last time Shawn had been left alone in the house, it had taken a few hours for him to come all of the way out of slave-mode. He was already going to have to deal with the client dinner tomorrow and being used as a status symbol. There had to be a limit. How much slave-time could Shawn handle before he couldn't switch modes anymore?

The song on the radio ended and a news segment started as Gus turned off of the busy road. "It's been almost a month since the slave-turned-actor Cruise was freed. While public response has been mostly positive for this real-life underdog story, it has also sparked a question in everyone's mind. How far is too far?"

Gus growled and turned the radio off. He heard enough dumb stuff in his own house; he didn't need to hear it on the road too. It was harder to stay under the speed limit once he turned into their neighborhood, and he didn't bother waiting for the garage door to open completely before pulling in.

Shawn had been doing better; he'd even talked back to someone that wasn't Gus. Being 'put away' for a few hours couldn't backtrack him too much...

"Shawn!" Gus called out as soon as he walked into the house. "I rescind all orders."

There wasn't any response, but had he really been expecting any? Gus clutched his backpack straps as he made his way to the living room, praying under his breath, "Please let him be ok, please let him be ok…"

His heart sank when he reached the room and saw that Shawn was still kneeling unmoving in the corner. At least he was watching the TV instead of staring at the ground; that had to mean something.

Gus slowed down, not wanting to scare Shawn as he made his way over. He glanced at the TV as he walked past, seeing a police chief in front of the station giving a statement. He sat on the floor next to Shawn and grumbled, "I thought I told her to put something good on…"

"This is good," Shawn answered quietly, not taking his eyes from the TV.

Gus breathed an internal sigh of relief as a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders; Shawn wasn't stuck in slave-mode this time. He hadn't backtracked. Gus looked at what Shawn was watching and read the headline running under the briefing. "Office supply death deemed an accident, according to police…"

"He was killed with a paperclip," Shawn explained. "And they think it's an accident… How do you accidentally kill someone with a paperclip?"

"How do you kill someone on purpose with a paperclip?" Gus countered.

"Huh." Shawn's eyes unfocused as he stared through the TV. "How did they do it?"

Gus looked his strange slave over, feeling just slightly disturbed at the clear fascination on his face. The news changed and Shawn blinked, seeming to realize where he was all at once. He bowed his head and spoke quickly, "Sorry, sir. I shouldn't have been talking about murder like that."

A confusing mix of emotions clashed in Gus' mind at the abrupt change. Instead of trying to parse through the mess, he buried them all with his curiosity. "Why not?"

"You don't like blood, so you probably don't like that."

"I live in Santa Barbara," Gus pointed out. "I'm pretty used to hearing about bizarre deaths."

"...Fair." Shawn relaxed even while staying in his slave position.

Gus waited a second for his emotions to settle before asking, "Ready to get up?"

"Yeah."

Gus climbed back to his feet, nearly losing his balance as he forgot to adjust for his heavy backpack. Shawn moved after him, standing with a fluidity that shouldn't have been possible after being in the same position for hours.

Gus turned towards the stairs before hearing a quiet offer, "I can take your bag."

Like hell was he going to let Shawn do work for him right now. "No thanks, I've got it."

Shawn was getting better; he'd stayed himself and seemed more at ease while not acting like a slave. The dinner tomorrow couldn't ruin that.

Gus wouldn't let it.

"Alright, places everybody," his mother said briskly after dinner. "It's rehearsal time."

"Is this really necessary?" Gus complained as he flopped on the couch. "How hard can 'dinner in the dining room and talk in the living room' be?"

"It's our first time having a client over, but it can't seem like the first time." She glared at him and pointed at one of the smaller living room chairs. "That is your spot, not the couch. And fix your posture while you're at it."

Gus rolled his eyes and walked over to where she'd pointed, sitting demurely with his ankles crossed and his hands folded daintily in his lap. He made his movements as feminine as possible as he asked, "Like this?"

"Yes. Perfect," his mother deadpanned back. She pointed to the corner that was in view of anyone on the couch. "Shawn you'll be there when you're not serving drinks or desserts."

"Yes, ma'am," Shawn answered from the back, his face completely blank.

"Bill, you'll be in the other chair, so the clients can have the couch…"

The 'rehearsal' had been an unpleasant surprise, and Gus still had to break the bad news to Shawn that they'd need to partially charge his collar afterwards too. It was hard to tell how Shawn was doing through his slave mask, but having to do so many slave things in a row couldn't be good for his mental state. And there was only so much Gus could do to help him.

"Oh, and Bill, do you have your-"

His father held up several small binders with a smirk. "I know how to do my job, Winnie."

"Yes, of course you do," she answered distractedly. "Now, have I forgotten anything…?"

"May I ask a question, ma'am?"

Gus' eyebrows rose in surprise; he'd never heard Shawn speak unprompted to his parents before. That had to be a good sign…

Gus' mother's face tightened as she looked back. "What do you need to know?"

Shawn's submissive posture didn't change as he asked, "Do you want the drinks and desserts served directly to your guests or placed where they can reach it?"

Gus couldn't help but smile as his mother actually thought about the question before answering, "We'll make sure there's extras on the platter. Serve the guests, then put the rest on the table for anyone to take more."

"Yes, ma'am. What serving order would you like?"

Gus watched in fascination as the question and answers continued, some even making his mother pause to consider something new. Who knew just how many details there were to a simple meeting? And exactly how much experience did Shawn have with things like this?

Shawn finally finished and ducked his head with a final, "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome." She looked him over with an appraising look before briskly turning around. "Alright, that's that. Any questions from you two?"

His mother seemed happy, and Shawn had just worked his way into her good graces… It was probably the best possible time to ask. Gus spoke up, trying to make his tone as respectful as possible. Every little bit helped. "Since Shawn's going to have to work so much extra for the meeting, can he have all day off Saturday?"

She considered the request before answering, "I want help cleaning up after the meeting. Once that's done, he can have the day off."

Considering she didn't specify that Shawn had to be the one to clean up, hopefully Gus could help too. But that wasn't all he wanted.

He chose his words carefully, knowing how much of a long shot the request was. "Thank you. We've had Shawn for a month now and he's never acted out. Could he be allowed to serve without extra orders on him?"

She didn't say no right away, and Gus held his breath. He just needed a bit of wiggle room, something to help Shawn feel more like a person even while in slave-mode… His mother shook her head. "We still don't know why he was sold with that gag, and I won't risk Bill's reputation when there's nothing to gain from it."

There was plenty to gain from it, but it wasn't any currency she'd recognize. She wasn't going to change her mind, but Shawn's lack of reaction made Gus speak again. "You're wrong; I know he'd be good."

"And he'll be just as good with the orders." She looked over the room before nodding in satisfaction. "You two can go; I'll want help tomorrow morning at the regular time."

"Yes, ma'am," Shawn answered, not moving until Gus stood up.

One of the slave training phrases came to mind as Gus led the way up the stairs: masters lead; slaves follow. Was he the one being unrealistic in thinking Shawn could ever not act like a slave?

The question hung in his mind as he led his slave to his room.

"...and then she asked, 'But what about the hippopotamus?'"

Gus laughed along with the clients, his cheeks starting to ache from all of the smiles he'd been forcing through dinner and dessert. It was too bad his parents wouldn't let him drink any of the wine Shawn had served; it would've made the night less boring.

At least the food had been good; his mother had gone all-out with the steaks and sides. Hopefully Shawn had been able to enjoy his plate in the peace of the kitchen after he'd finished serving everyone.

"Your father knows how to tell a joke," the business man told Gus, his mouth almost completely covered by a bushy brown mustache. "He mentioned that you're planning on going into sales as well?"

"That's correct," Gus answered smoothly. "I'll be going to college this fall for my business degree."

"Maybe you'll get to work together someday." The man smiled and Gus smiled politely back. Like hell would he ever work with his father.

"I still have a lot to learn before we get to that point," he said instead. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye as Shawn reacted to a silent signal and went into the kitchen.

"Well, you have a heck of a teacher here." The businessman opened his binder and glanced over the first page for what felt like the twenty-hundredth time that night. "The proposal seems quite reasonable, but your estimated time of installation is a week longer than your competition. Why is that?"

"That is an excellent question," Gus' father said as he leaned forward earnestly. "It's true that others can do the installation faster, but our company prides itself on doing the job right the first time. Those extra few days ensure that our technicians aren't rushed and can finish things properly." He absently took a tart from the tray being offered by Shawn. "We don't take our workers for granted, and I believe their quality of work speaks for itself."

Gus could feel his smile slipping, and he didn't really care. None of them had even looked at Shawn all night; it was like he was invisible and the food was materializing out of thin air. Shawn brought the tray over to him, his face blank, his eyes averted, his entire being looking the picture of an ideal slave.

Gus hated it.

He wanted to give Shawn reassurances that it was almost over, he wanted to order Shawn to go to his room and never do a slave thing again, he wanted to clasp Shawn's shoulder and let him know he wasn't alone. He wanted to take every thought that was in his slave's head that made him look and act so differently from real-Shawn and shred them into evil confetti and feed them back to whoever had put them there.

He couldn't do any of those things though; he was just stuck taking a stupid tart and murmuring under his breath, "Thanks."

Shawn's nod was barely perceptible as he turned and took the tray to the table in front of the couch. Gus let himself simmer in his grumpiness for another few seconds before tuning back into the conversation.

"...too bad it can't be done by slaves." The salesman laughed like he'd made the best joke in the world.

Gus' father matched his energy before giving a good natured shrug. "Unfortunately, I've never seen a slave be able to do anything more complicated than data entry."

"True, true."

Gus' mother caught his eye and smiled pointedly. He bared his teeth back, making sure to turn the corners up so people who were dumb would think it was a smile. How many slaves had actually been given the opportunity to do something more complicated?

"I really like what I see here," the salesman said as he tapped the binder. "If we give your company the contract, there's a few other projects we may be interested in."

"And I would love to hear about them."

Gus groaned internally, settling into his chair as Shawn settled into the corner. It was going to be a long night.

"It was an absolute privilege, and I hope to hear from you soon."

Gus' father kept his salesman smile in place even after the door was closed. He peeked through the small side window and waited for several seconds before finally relaxing and turning around. "Whew, what a night!"

Gus groaned and slumped in his chair, relieved that it was finally over. "How can someone talk for so long without ever saying anything?"

"That's the business world, son," his father said with a small, real smile. "So you'd better get used to it."

Gus made sure his sigh sounded properly annoyed as he pushed himself to his feet. He'd never say it, but it had actually been impressive watching his father handle the client. The promotion made a lot more sense now. "Can Shawn and I start cleaning up?"

It was only nine o'clock, even though it felt like it should be after midnight. If they were able to take care of things now, they could both sleep in tomorrow.

His mother didn't seem surprised at the question as she stood up and stretched her back. "If you want to help him, that's fine. You're in charge of making sure everything's done well. Shawn, clean up this room, the dining room, and kitchen. You're allowed to talk again."

"Yes, ma'am," Shawn answered, his voice just as blank as his face.

Gus glared at her; if he did it hard enough, surely she'd be able to feel it burn. His efforts were in vain as she ignored the look and gave his father a peck on the cheek. "You did wonderful. I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. Want to head up a bit early?"

"I'd love to," his father answered as he leaned down to give her a real kiss. Gus rolled his eyes and looked away to help with the cleanup. They could at least try to be subtle in front of him…

As soon as his parents were out of ear-shot, he stated firmly, "I rescind all orders."

Shawn's eyes flicked up, but he continued to stack dirty dishes on the tray. Gus shrugged and walked towards the dining room. "I figured if you wanted to sit and take a break, you earned it."

Shawn still didn't say anything, and Gus bit his cheek to keep from asking a question that would require a response. Needing time to adjust was normal, and it wasn't the first time Shawn had gone into deep-slave-mode. He hadn't been stuck the last time, he could come out of it this time too. He had to.

A thought occurred to Gus, and he made a quick side trip to the kitchen to check the table in there. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the plate he'd set out for Shawn didn't have food on it anymore. He'd made sure to explicitly tell Shawn he was allowed to eat, and it looked like he'd been heard.

Shawn came up behind him with the tray full of dishes, and Gus gave him a small smile. "You can heat up some more food too, if you're still hungry. It's your choice."

Even when Gus had given him permission, Shawn still hadn't ever taken extra food during meals. It was important that he still knew the option was available, even if he wouldn't take it.

Shawn acknowledged him with a small nod, speaking quietly as he said, "Thank you, but I'm not hungry."

Gus stopped in his tracks and stared. Shawn was always hungry. He looked closer, suddenly realizing the quietness and the tightly controlled movements might be more than just Shawn's slave-mode.

Shawn had said he'd been gagged while serving. It probably wasn't the only bad thing that had happened in a situation like that. And Gus wasn't completely oblivious; he knew Shawn struggled with flashbacks.

Shawn was hurting. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

It didn't mean he wasn't going to try. Gus cleared his throat and offered, "You can go to my room. I can take care of this."

"I was ordered to clean." Shawn's voice had an edge to it as he added, "Master."

Gus winced at the reminder and left the room to clear off the dining room table. As much as he didn't like it, Shawn was a slave. Pushing him to be something else when he was already struggling was probably the least helpful thing Gus could have done.

He had to remember his place, even while he was trying to help his slave.

There was one thing a master could do to help. Gus stacked the dirty dishes and brought them back into the kitchen, setting them down next to the sink. Shawn didn't look up from where he was already washing the glasses.

"You did good tonight," Gus said, keeping his own eyes locked on the dishes. You shouldn't have had to, but you did good."

Shawn didn't say anything, but there was a subtle relaxing in his shoulders and eyes that told Gus his message had been heard. Gus followed his cue and stayed quiet as he grabbed a towel and dried the newly cleaned dishes.

Half an hour and a clean downstairs later, they split up to get changed into pajamas. The continued silence weighed on Gus, making the last few steps leading up to bedtime feel just as exhausting as the hours of fake-socialization.

There was a quiet knock on the door and Gus let out a breath before calling out, "Yeah, you can come in."

Shawn let himself in, his dress clothes folded neatly in his hands. There was a worry line between his eyebrows that hadn't been there before, and his fingers absently ran over the dark green shirt as he stood at partial attention. He hesitated before quietly saying, "I'm sorry."

Of course this would be the time Gus had to deal with another disturbing slave apology. Why couldn't it ever happen when they were both calm and well rested? He kept his tone neutral as he asked, "Why?"

"Slaves don't-" Shawn cut himself off with a sharp head shake. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried again. "You were trying to be nice. And I… I knew y-you don't like to be called 'master'."

Gus shook his head, trying to parse what his slave was apologizing for. How many times had he said that it was fine to use honorifics if he needed to. Surely even slave-Shawn had to have figured out by now that it was fine.

Shawn's fidgets became more pronounced as he waited, his hand never leaving the shirt that he'd helped pick out. And it suddenly hit Gus; it wasn't slave-Shawn apologizing.

And damnit, he was too burned out to be able to properly appreciate the fact that real-Shawn was trusting him with an apology. He took a breath and made sure his answer matched what he'd tell any free-person. "Thank you for apologizing. I should have known better than to offer something that weird when you were already having a hard time. I know it wasn't an easy night for you. So, I'm sorry too."

Shawn looked completely out of his depth as he tentatively responded, "Thank you… for apologizing too?" His jaw worked and his hand clenched around the shirt and he visibly kept the honorifics at bay.

"You're welcome," Gus said to help ease the internal struggle. He looked around for inspiration on what to say next. This felt important; shouldn't he say something important now? He glanced towards his bed and saw Shawn glance towards his sleeping bag as the moment stretched into the awkward range.

Screw it.

"I'm going to bed."

Shawn slumped in relief. "Sleep sounds really good."

"Good night, Shawn."

"Good night, Gus."

It had been a long day.

Shawn woke him up that night with a loud gasp.

It wasn't unexpected that he'd have a nightmare, but the fact that he wasn't immediately calming down was concerning. Heavy cloth rustled as Shawn's frantic breathing grew louder, and Gus gave up pretending to sleep when he heard a quiet whimper.

Shawn needed help.

"Hey, Shawn, you're ok. I'm just going to turn on the light."

The quiet words didn't have the effect Gus was hoping for as the rustling cloth grew louder, accompanied by several more whimpers. Gus turned on the light on his side table and looked next to his bed.

Shawn was frozen in place, his body half out of the sleeping bag as his unfocused eyes stared at the light. Gus was forcibly reminded of the hamster his sister had adopted several years ago, and how it had always locked up in terror whenever one of them would walk into the room in the middle of the night.

He shoved the useless mental image away and spoke quietly again. "Shawn, you're ok. You're safe now." With a shock collar around his neck. "You're not going to be hurt."

His words sparked a flurry of movement as Shawn flailed his way out from the sleeping bag and scrambled back across the floor. He hit the wall and pressed himself back, his whole body shaking as he mouthed a constant stream of words without actually saying them.

Gus stared helplessly; how could he help? Shawn hadn't been this freaked out since his first night, and that experience had only taught Gus that touching was bad.

And that being a master could help.

He steeled himself and slowly stood up. Shawn reacted to the movement and scrambled to his knees, flinching as the mouthed words became audible. "I'm sorry, master, I'm sorry. Please don't- please…"

Gus wanted to know the names of who Shawn thought he was talking to. He wanted to find them and hurt them until they felt even a fraction of the fear they'd put in Shawn. He kept his thoughts to himself as he made his voice gentle but firm.

"Shawn. You're not there anymore. I'm your master, not them. I need you to follow my orders, can you do that?"

He had to know Shawn could hear him before he said anything the collar could enforce.

"Yes, master."

It was even more heartbreaking hearing that desperate tone now that he knew what Shawn was supposed to sound like. Gus focused on keeping his tone steady as he said, "Good. I need you to take a slow breath in…"

He talked Shawn through several breaths, but it didn't seem to be enough to break through the panic. Gus looked around and saw the snack basket sitting against the wall. "You can breathe on your own. You're making me happy, just like you're supposed to. You're not being punished."

Shawn didn't move from his rigidly held slave-position, but his breathing pattern continued to match the calming breaths. Gus took a step towards the basket and narrated, "I'm going to give you something, because you're being good. This isn't a punishment."

Shawn cringed in on himself, and Gus mentally cursed his previous masters, their families, and their ancestor's families. The ratchet of the water bottle opening sounded too loud, and Shawn's flinch didn't help matters any. Gus made his movements as deliberate as possible as he walked forward and squatted down in front of Shawn. "I want you to take this water and drink it slowly. You're being good."

Shawn's hand shook as he reached out and took the bottle, and Gus slowly sat down and scooted back to give him more space. He waited as Shawn followed the order, giving quiet assurances the whole time.

By the time the bottle was half-empty, Shawn's eyes had lost their frantic edge and his shoulders had relaxed into an exhausted slump. Gus took a gamble and quietly said, "I rescind all orders. You can keep drinking if you want."

The room stayed silent as Shawn continued to drink and Gus continued to wait, exhaustion pulling behind his eyes now that the worst of it was over. Shawn didn't say anything until the bottle was empty. "I'm sorry…"

"I know," Gus sighed. "I'm glad you're back."

"Thank you… for helping." The bottle rolled in Shawn's hands, and he didn't look like he planned to move anytime soon.

Gus looked longingly at his bed before slowly standing up. "Would a movie help?"

"A slave spends its time…" Shawn sighed and let his head hang lower. "Yes, a movie would help."

"Thank you," Gus said, surprising himself. A part of him wanted to tell Shawn he was being good again, but it wasn't the right time for that anymore. He brought his laptop back to the corner and settled down for an early-morning movie.

Shawn wasn't set back, thank god.

Gus had partially convinced himself that they'd have to start back at square one, but besides thanking Gus again after the movie, Shawn seemed to be intent on ignoring that the whole previous 24 hours had happened. Gus was happy to follow his lead.

In some ways, Shawn was doing even better than normal. He'd barely hesitated when Gus had handed him his breakfast, he hadn't accidentally used 'sir' once, and he'd even stuttered out 'I want' when choosing to go for a hike on his day off.

Which was what Gus was trying to remember as their current silence was only broken by the rustling of the trees and the quiet shifting of the rocks under their feet. Neither of them had said anything for at least ten minutes as they walked the trail. Shawn had been doing good with keeping up his end of the conversation, but he'd started to trail off on his thoughts after about an hour, and he'd sounded distracted when he did talk.

Which was a good sign, it had to be, but it left Gus feeling like he was missing a piece of the puzzle. With how many snakes in the grass Shawn had to deal with, not having the full picture was risky. It was too easy to accidentally trigger something by saying or doing the wrong thing, so Gus let the silence settle and kept an eye out for bears.

It never hurt to be too careful.

"Hey, Gus?"

Gus looked over in surprise; Shawn kept conversations going, but he rarely started them. Shawn's eyes were lowered, but he looked almost frustrated instead of his typical-slave emotions.

"Yeah?" Gus answered, his curiosity already piquing.

"You've taken first-aid and biology and stuff, right?"

Shawn was very good at throwing him for a loop. "Uh, yeah?"

Shawn turned his hand, his cuff glinting in a stray sunbeam as he studied the inside of his wrist. "If someone was stabbed with a paperclip, and it hit just right, could you bleed out?"

Gus stopped walking and just stared at his insane slave. Where the hell had that question come from?

"Sorry," Shawn apologized quickly as he ducked his head, his face going blank. He winced as he kept talking. "The news report on Thursday. I can't stop thinking about it. I think I know who it was, but not how."

Gus remembered the report of the man who'd apparently died by paperclip and Shawn's clear fascination with it. He also remembered the fact that Shawn had willingly started a conversation. He thought about the question he'd been asked and tentatively answered, "I guess anything's possible, but it'd be impossible to call being stabbed in an artery an accident, right?"

Surprise cracked through Shawn's blank face and he looked up to study Gus. It didn't take him long to recover and say, "I-I guess not."

Gus thought about the problem; it was actually an interesting puzzle. "Maybe electrocution? He could have stuck the paperclip in a socket or something."

"Huh." Shawn only thought for a second before shaking his head. "If it was that, then the news would have said how he'd died. 'Newest Darwin Award is shocking,' or something."

"True." Now Gus couldn't stop thinking about it. "Swallowing it could maybe do some damage, especially if it was unbent."

Shawn's eyes unfocused as he thought out-loud. "He was found in a junkyard…" His eyes sharpened with a grin. "That's it!"

"What does a junkyard have to do with anything?"

"Those giant magnets that pick up cars," Shawn explained, holding one of his hands over his head in demonstration. "Feed someone a paperclip, put the magnet over them…" his other hand shot up from his stomach to hit the hand over his head. "Bullet from the inside out."

"Would that even work?" People's bodies were squishy, and those magnets were pretty powerful, but surely a paperclip couldn't do that much damage… "That would have to be the most convoluted way to kill someone ever."

Shawn shrugged as he dropped his hands. "It was probably symbolic or something. I'm pretty sure it was an office romance gone bad."

It was still a ridiculous way to kill someone, not to mention it was pretty far-fetched that Shawn would figure something out that the police hadn't. Though it had been deemed an accident, and Shawn seemed pretty sure it was murder…

… Which Gus wasn't really even questioning anymore.

Gus quickly pointed out, "You know we probably aren't even close to right, right?"

"Maybe." Shawn definitely didn't sound like he was wrong. "But at least I can stop thinking about it now."

"Fair." Gus offered his fist, making sure to move slowly so he wouldn't scare Shawn. "Small victories."

Shawn eyed up the fist, his face turning confused again. Gus kept his position; it had worked before, and it was a safe way to give Shawn some friendly touch. It didn't seem like much, but it was the best he'd come up with.

Shawn finally reached out and bumped their knuckles together. He shifted his backpack on his shoulders and looked down the trail, clearly not knowing what to say.

Gus took the hint and started walking again. "I'm also pretty sure I'm never going to visit a junkyard now."

"Me either."

Gus glanced over, his eyes catching on the metal ring around Shawn's neck. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

Shawn smirked, clearly knowing what he was thinking. They continued walking as Gus realized Shawn had probably been thinking about the murder even during the dinner while he'd been acting a perfect-slave. Which was a bit scary and he should probably be disturbed…

But for some reason it was reassuring.

Shawn was still himself, even when he was in slave-mode. He wasn't going away.