#X-Force 4

[dispatchdcu]

X-Force #4 Preview

X-Force #4 Preview #MARVEL #marvelcomics #comics #comicbooks #news #mcu #art #info #NCBD #comicbooknews #previews #reviews #xmen #houseofx #wolverine #xforce #destinyofx #reignofx

X-Force #4 Preview: MAN-THING STRIKES AS THE NEXUS OF ALL REALITIES IS AT STAKE! The Nexus of All Realities is in danger – meaning if X-FORCE can’t seal this Fracture Node, they’ve got more to worry about than just one ol’ Earth!  What extradimensional forces stand ready to take down FORGE’s team? And the Nexus’ guardian, the MAN-THING – is he friend or foe? The all-new X-FORCE series continues…

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

TW: Yandere; Implied Kidnapping; Forced Breeding Kink.

You know how in the punishments scenes, the yandere always goes "For each spank you fail to count, that's 10 more."

Now imagine a yandere with a massive breeding kink who warns you with a huge grin on his face that for each established rule of his that you break, it adds up one more baby to your tab.

You think he's all bark, no bite. That he's bluffing with you, scare you into submission.

But by the end of your first year with him, the yandere casually reminds you during dinner that you owe him 7 babies.

6 babies actually, he corrects himself.

Baby no. 1 is already on the way.

[harveywritings92]

[The 1-4-1 are making their way back to their base camp during a blizzard, Ghost is carrying R/n on his back. ]

Gaz, to no one in particular: *tired* how much further till we get back to the base?

Ghost: I don't know. I'm not sure how much longer I can carry R/n for.

[Gaz and Price stop walking look at each other than at Ghost confused.]

Price: R/n has been walking with Roach this entire time.

[Ghost turns around and sees that, yes, R/n is indeed behind him walking with Roach.]

Ghost: Then who the hell is this?!

[Gaz reaches up and pulls the hood off the person’s head to reveal Soap.]

Soap: What? I'll pay you.

[Ghost grimaces drops Soap and keeps walking.]

[hoshiina]

pairing: narumi gen x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: he's always thought that anyone would do if he just wanted to find love but he realizes you're the one he wishes for, inspired by pop song by yonezu kenshi

warnings: some profanities from narumi

wc: 1300

Narumi Gen hated a lot of things, but one of his least favourites of all time was "true love". He despised when people would describe their love for another as "true love". It couldn't possibly be that serious. Just say you loved your partner. That was probably the extent feelings got to anyways— you just so happened to like each other at the same time. To him that was plenty of a feat alone, why would you have to make it sound like more than it is? For the sake of love? Ridiculous.

To him, that was truly all love was. If there was someone who liked him when he happened to like them too, that was enough. No need for years of pining, no need to get attached to some unrequited love. All that noise about love and destiny surely wasn't all that necessary.

Now, this wasn't to say that he didn't wish to find love— because he did. Like any other person, he truly wished to be loved. It was just that what he had in mind wasn't some deep pure love that'd last forever, nor was it a promise for eternity. He just wished for a light-hearted "I love you" here and there with someone he found special.

And for that, anyone would do. He'd find someone who fancied him along the way, and hopefully he'd like them back. That was all there was to it.

This meant his plan for finding his partner was sitting around and waiting. As horribly lame as that sounded, because he was Narumi Gen, this wasn't that hopeless of a plan. So, that's what he did. He'd go around saving people and doing his duties (to the absolute bare minimum) while making sure he was constantly trending, hoping that one day, someone would like him.

Today he was standing around for a solid five extra minutes after he defeated the honju with ease, hoping the media would snap some nice pictures of him, or he'd finally charm someone this time.

"Captain, you ought to stop that," you said. "It's rather embarrassing, you look desperate now."

"Oh, would you shut up," he said. "You're ruining my good name!"

You snorted. "What good name," you scoffed.

"I'm starting to think its your fault I'm not charming anyone. Perhaps if you didn't stop me every time, someone would have found me by now," he said.

"Yeah, right. Captain Ashiro seems to be having no issues charming people and I've never seen her try to," you said.

"You little shit," he said.

"Besides they're going to be utterly disappointed if they think this is what you're like and then they find out what you're… actually like," you said, and he was starting to think you wanted him to fire you. "It's okay. Someone will see how you're actually lovely at times soon."

"What?" he asked, shocked by what you said.

"What?" you replied, confused.

"You— you said lovely," he said quietly. Suddenly he felt flustered.

"Oh," you said, looking away and avoiding eye contact. It wasn't like you didn't mean to say that, but you didn't think it was that big of a deal. Rather, how flustered he sounded took you by surprise. “Well, you’re a little lame but you’re a good guy. Like you pretend you only do it for the media, but I know you’re always checking the alleyways that don’t have as much surveillance just in case, and checking alleyways isn’t something a captain has to do. And we both know the media isn’t writing about anything you do there. Things like that.”

“You never know!” he said, and you snorted.

“Alright then,” you said. “You do you, Captain.”

“I will!” he said back, trying to sound proud.

A week had passed and here he was, doing what he always did after arriving fashionably late to the scene and taking all the kaiju out in a matter of minutes: standing around trying to look good. Because he wanted love, and anyone would do. Anyone who liked him was supposed to do.

...

And yet he wished for you.

He wished that when he woke up, the first thing he would see was you. He wished that you'd smile at him everyday with love and genuine joy the way you did to others, and he wished that you’d smile that way to him alone. He wished that after a long day, he was the one you came home to. He wished from the bottom of his heart that you would always be safe and no harm would ever come your way. He wished that your days were filled with laughter and smiles and he knew he would risk his life to protect that.

It was so unlike him in a way he absolutely hated. True love was supposed to be nonsense and someone being ‘the one’ was supposed to be some dramatic line in a movie. It upset him, that he was so utterly fond of you. Yet, no matter how much it upset him, it didn't change the fact that he was, and he couldn't deny it anymore after trying to ignore it for the full week.

So here he was, acting stupid again, hoping that you’d scold him again or tell him he’s embarrassing himself, because that’s what it’s come down to. He just wanted another reason to talk to you.

But you wouldn’t come to stop him after 10 whole minutes.

“Why aren’t you stopping me?” he asked, irritated.

“Pardon?” you asked, utterly confused.

“Why aren’t you telling me to stop?” he asked again. He was aware how silly he sounded, but he was pissed off that you meant so much to him so he had to take it out on you.

“Because you told me to stop last time??” you replied. “I thought you were going to keep this up until you found yourself a partner.”

“You’re the one who told me to find someone that saw how I was…. lovely…. at times,” he said, but said the lovely very quietly. Remembering that you had described him as lovely made his cheeks burn and he’d rather die than let you see that.

“I mean, yeah. I do think you should,” you said.

“Don’t you notice, though?” he asked quietly, avoiding eye contact. There was a moment of silence.

“I do,” you said, and immediately he looked up to face you. You had a grin on your face and you looked so proud— you looked like you had won a game. Oh, how he hated you.

“You’re so annoying,” he said, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Rich coming from you,” you said.

“So, do you—,” he started to yell before cutting himself off. Carefully, he tried again. “Would you please… uh… be mine…?”

Oh, this is so embarrassing, he thought. Perhaps you’d laugh at him, but he wanted to do this properly, or at the very least try to. He’d be far more than just stupid to mess this up now. He was finally in love.

But your laughter never came. When he looked up your eyes were wide and you looked so flustered, but soon you had the most beautiful smile on your face.

“I would absolutely love to,” you said.

So he kissed you right then and there, because there was nothing he wanted to do more at the moment.

He laughed a little.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“No, nothing,” he said.

There was no way just anyone would do— it had to be you.

[flowerfreya]

Best 3/4

Part 9 of the office AU

Masterlist

The boys figured that they need to lay off reader and the best way to do that is to back with their ex (boys are dumb)

Pairing : Poly!141 x reader

A/n: sorry there’s a lot of Simon x reader , he’s my comfort character and my fav trope is I har everyone but you and he gives that so much. I’m not the best writer so I have trouble with flow sometimes so bare with me

You’ve been working for 141 industries for about 2 months now, it’s nice to have your own. Own money, your own car, and your own apartment. You think that the boys have gotten back with their ex, and that is making you feels some things that if you didn’t care you shouldn’t feel.

Their ex only seems to like all of them except for Simon , he seems almost like an afterthought to her. She rolls in the office, always leaves the front door open and just waltzes into John’s office , without even an ask to see if he’s in a meeting.

“I’m sorry ,he’s in a mee-”, she interrupts you with a wave and a fake smile, goes in and shuts the door and closes the blinds. You huff out a breath and look up to see Simon staring at you , letting out a small shrug. Simon and you both stand up, it’s lunch time. Everyday at the same time , you get up and eat lunch , whether that is in the breakroom or getting something to eat at a fast food place. Simon started joining you a little over two weeks ago, you noticed that Simon doesn’t really bring lunch just eats shit out of the vending machine.

You started making and packing extra food for him.

“I have extra food today, if you want some”, you sit down at the same table next to him.

“`M good”, as he opens a bag of chips.

“Please just eat, I always make too much food”, shoving the food towards him. He gives you a look and you give him a small smile and nod your head towards the food.

“So, how long have you guys been dating”, you wave your hand in a you know who gesture.

He makes a hum noise, “who?”

“The women in Price’s office” .

“Oh,I guess our girlfriend”.

“She doesn’t seem to like to hang out with you”

“Yeah, well I’m not the best guy”.

“I beg to differ”, you think that Simon is the nicest guy you’ve met. He helped you when he really didn’t have too and likes to eat lunch with you and appreciates your food too.

You hear a shrill , “Receptionist”,she can’t even remember your name. She kind of slaps the table like she’s hitting a bell. You see her just standing there , waiting for you.

“Yes”

“I need you to clear John’s schedule for tomorrow afternoon”

You turn to look at John in office with the door shut, focused on his computer,”Uhh does John now about this”, you question.

“Of course, sweetie”, she is using her fake customer voice , you know because you are using it too.

“ I think, I’m going to ask him , just in case”, you start to move in the direction of his office. No way he really wants to clear his schedule, you’ve never seen him take lunch. A whole afternoon off, no way.

You knock as you push the door open, “Hi, Mr.Price, just trying to fig-”,

“Not now”.

“Oh well I was-”

He looks up then with a harsh brown and a closed mouth speaking through his teeth , “Not now”.

It shocks you, he’s never talked to you like that but you have been talked to like that a lot. Your natural response is to quiet down and get out the way. You quietly back out the room and sit back down at your desk.

You look up at her still waiting for you to clear the schedule, “I guess it’s fine”

“Wonderful” , she has such a wide smile and is so pretty. You think you hate her.

“Opps almost forgot”, she walks to Soap and gives him a big kiss and you can definitely see tongue. You want to look away but you can’t help it , it’s enticing. She lets out a little giggle and wipes her mouth and then saunters out the door.

Simon is sitting there, no kiss received, and is staring at you.

[sky-is-the-limit]

"Pretty Boy."

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘓𝘢𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩.

𝘊𝘞: 𝘚𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘛𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘜𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘋𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘛𝘢𝘭𝘬, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺?

𝘞𝘊: 4,977

𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴: 𝘎𝘢𝘻 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘵.𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱.

“𝘠/𝘓/𝘕, 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵.” 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘰, 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭.

“𝘞𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 30 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘴𝘪𝘳. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴, 𝘪𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘣 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘮𝘣 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳, 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺, 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳, 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘬, 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘧𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺.

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

“𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.” 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘢 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘪𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥'𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘓𝘢𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦.

𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘢𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺.

𝘐𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴,𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵, 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴, 𝘦𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘭.

𝘓𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.

“𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬?” 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘮𝘣, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘹 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵.

𝘔𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘱. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥.

“𝘐'𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘠/𝘓/𝘕.” 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥, 𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

“𝘈𝘩, 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤, 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵-”

“𝘉𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩! 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 10 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥!” 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦'𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘬𝘺 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥-𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘵.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘺. 𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵.” 𝘈 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵-𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘮𝘣.

“𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭.” 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴.

“𝘚𝘪𝘳?” 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘰, 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘢.

“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵. 𝘎𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘓𝘢𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴.” 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥.

𝘍𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵.

“𝘕𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬, 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬. 𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 30 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺.” 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘜𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥, 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘺, 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯.

“𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦?” 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭, 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘪��𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 ����𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦.

𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘪𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, “𝘏𝘮.. 𝘕𝘰, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺.”

“𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦.” 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘵.

“𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦.” 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵.

“𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺.” 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦? 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦.

“𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺.” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩.

“𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘠/𝘕?” 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺'𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴.

“𝘎𝘰𝘥, 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦. 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥.” 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥, 𝘴𝘰 𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥.

“𝘔𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘩𝘶𝘩? 𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦?” 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮 𝘪𝘵.

“𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥? 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘣-” 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭.

𝘈𝘯𝘺 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦, 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘱 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳,

“𝘎𝘰 𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵.” ��𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺.

“𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪-” 𝘈 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘪𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬-𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘣 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘺𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘺 𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯, 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

𝘐𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

“𝘚𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯.” 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.

𝘈𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦, “𝘕𝘰-”

“𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘩𝘮?” 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘦𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦.” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥.

“𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺.” 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘴𝘵, 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺. 𝘕𝘰, 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘹𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘢, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦, 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘓𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 ��𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵-𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥. 𝘒𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘵. 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭.

𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘷𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘢𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘈𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘸 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯, 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦��� 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥, 𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬.

𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴, 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴, 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩.

𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘱𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵.

𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵, 𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘦��𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

“𝘈 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.” 𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢 𝘤𝘶𝘱𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘢𝘬, 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵.

𝘈 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳-𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘱 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩.

“𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦- 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬-” 𝘎𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘭𝘺.

𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘐𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴, 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺. 

“𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘠/𝘕, 𝘐'𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘳.” 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦. 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩.

“𝘞𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵?” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬.

𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥, “𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦?” 𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺?

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘬𝘦𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘰 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘪��𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘱 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦'𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘵, 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘺,𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴. 𝘖𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵.

𝘐𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘶𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵.” 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦'𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬, 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦.

𝘈 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘱 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪��𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩, “𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵?”

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘭𝘺, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘺. 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘨, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴, 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘸𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺, 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦'𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘴 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨.

“𝘞𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯-” 𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ��𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭. 𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥.

“𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘵, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧, 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬.” 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘥, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩, 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦.

𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰, 𝘢 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘱, 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦.

𝘚𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴. 𝘐𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘣.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘥, 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘱.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦-𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

“𝘐’𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.” 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧.

“𝘐’𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦-” 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘺𝘳𝘶𝘱, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦. “��𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘠/𝘕?”

“𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘦𝘴,” 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨.

“𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦—” 

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘻𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘺, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘈 𝘨𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵.

“𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘩𝘶𝘩?” 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺.

𝘐𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘥𝘰 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥.

𝘈𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺.

𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘰𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘢𝘭.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯����𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘹 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴.

𝘐𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵, 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬, 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵 ��𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘺𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.

“𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳- 𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦-” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬. 𝘈𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘴.

“𝘚𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯,” 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘰𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭, 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺.

“𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦, 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵.” 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵.

𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯, 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬-” 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘸.

𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘖𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘶𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘸𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘦𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦.

𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦'𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴 ��𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

“𝘉𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘰 𝘐'𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶- ” 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 “𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶” 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.

𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩.

𝘈𝘯𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘣 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘰, 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘫𝘢𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬.

𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯. “𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦,” 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳. “𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘦.”

𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘴.

𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦, 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘷𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨��𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥.

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳. “𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭.” 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬, 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵. “𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭-”

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦.

“𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬- 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦!” 𝘕𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵, “𝘒𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵-” 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘩.

𝘉𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴, 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘴.

“𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘰, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺-”𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯, 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦.

𝘞𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘤𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘕𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘩.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘣𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘴, 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘣.

𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬, 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳.

𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘶𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘤𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦.

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘩𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘺.

𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭-𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴, 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺, 𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯.

𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵.

𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘴, 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘶𝘱𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘵, 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯��𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴.

''𝘎𝘢𝘻, 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 5 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨.''

[aprill-99]

Xaden: “Okay everyone, safety briefing for this weekend.”

Xaden *to Ridoc and Bodhi*: “Do not add to the population.”

Xaden *to Imogen*: “Do not subtract from the population.”

Xaden *to Rhiannon, Sawyer, and Garrick in order*: “Do not end up in the newspaper, the hospital, or in jail.”

Xaden *to Violet*: “If you do end up in jail, establish dominance quickly.”

[koringus]

In the end love always wins

[tortibomb]

Perfect 10 Liners | Episode 2 | ArcArm

[chotachica]

Petition for the Nevermore webtoon fandom: since we know there are obviously way more ppl in the academy aside from the ones the story is focused on I propose we do something like the # onlyingotham accounts thing but w the webtoon where we make our own ocs and their spectres etc (maybe not even based on Poe's stories specifically but also in other horror stories from diff writers ??) and act as if we were in the academy or something. all delusional and everything

[periipheral]

<3

[simpin-on-noodles]

mini Dragon Ball art dump ^^

mostly meme redraws lol

[misaverawrites]

thinking about john price this fine and lovely morning, how he, even in his growing age, would still try and find time for you and everything you want to do together before he deploys one last time, as he always tries to mean, but it’s never true.

until it is, and he’s home all of the time with you, anxious whenever a car alarm goes off, when the rest of the 141 is off deployment, not for very long, you have a revolving door of tall army men living in your home and being some of the most cordial guests you have all year, until they stop coming ‘round again, and he gets even more anxious when you have kids. Not that he’d voice those opinions too loud, he doesn’t want you to be more scared than you need to be.

he, and task force 141 are all the protection you’ll ever need for your growing family.

[lovesickeros]

☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."

[redislazy]

Deadly Attachments, Chapter 04

<< Chapter 03　|　Chapter 05 >>

[EVENTUAL SMUT] - Minors DNI > ao3 <

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x female!Reader

-

Summary: As a skilled mercenary, you've navigated countless high-stakes missions—until one job puts you in the crosshairs of Task Force 141 and the elusive "Ghost." Now forced into an uneasy alliance, you’re drawn into a dangerous game of shifting loyalties and hidden motives. But as the stakes climb higher, one question lingers: how close can you get to the man who was meant to be a shadow in your path?

-

Content Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Military Action & Romance, Mercenaries, Soldiers, Non-Canon Antagonists, Eventual Smut, Military Inaccuracies, Slow Burn, Will add smut-specific tags later as the story goes

“You’re too visible,” Ghost mutters, his gaze flicking around the bustling street as if expecting someone to spot you at any moment.

The morning finds you and Ghost out on the streets of Istanbul, moving through the crowded alleys with a practiced air of detachment. Your mission is straightforward: gather intel on Aegis’ recent operations in the city without drawing attention. But of course, nothing about working with Ghost is ever straightforward.

You scoff, sidestepping a group of merchants with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “You’re the one in a hoodie and gloves on a warm day. I’m blending just fine.”

“It’s not just the look,” he snaps, voice kept low. “You’re not exactly subtle. You walk like you’re ready to start a fight.”

“And you don’t?” you retort, matching his tone. “You look like you’re one wrong look away from putting someone through a wall.”

He doesn’t respond, jaw tight as he focuses on the crowd ahead, though you catch the way his hands clench at his sides.

You both fall into tense silence, but it doesn’t take long before friction flares up again. Behind a corner stall, you spot a group of suited men exchanging cash and information—a telltale sign of Aegis dealings. As you prepare to move closer, Ghost’s gloved hand snaps out, gripping your arm.

“Hold up,” he mutters. “Too close. You’re going to tip them off.”

You pull your arm from his grip, irritation flaring. “I know how to do recon. I’ve been watching these types long before you came along.”

“Oh, really?” His tone drips with skepticism, gaze challenging. “That must be why Aegis still has your scent like blood in the water.”

You glare, resisting the urge to fire back with something equally cutting. “We’re supposed to be working together, or have you forgotten that already?”

Ghost’s voice lowers, edged with warning. “I haven’t forgotten. But you have a habit of thinking you know best, even when you’re out of your depth.”

Biting back a frustrated response, you feel the tension between you crackling like a live wire, ready to snap.

He shakes his head, muttering to himself before speaking again. “Just try it my way, for once. You might learn something.”

You grit your teeth, but against your better judgment, let him take the lead. The irritation simmers beneath the surface, but you swallow it, forcing yourself to focus on the mission.

You’d barely moved on from that exchange before the situation escalates. You’re trailing one of the Aegis informants when he glances back, his gaze sharp and sweeping over the street. In a heartbeat, he spots you, his eyes narrowing. You curse inwardly, feeling Ghost tense beside you, his own posture giving away the threat.

Without missing a beat, you seize the moment, reaching out to wrap your arm around Ghost’s waist and pulling him close. Before he can object, you slide your other hand to his chest, fingers splayed against the tough fabric of his jacket as you tilt your head toward his. “Just go with it,” you murmur, barely audible.

Ghost stiffens, his entire body practically vibrating with resistance. But the Aegis man is already watching, scrutinizing. There’s no time to argue.

Putting on the most convincing smile you can muster, you laugh softly, pressing closer into Ghost’s space. His arms instinctively come up to your shoulders, tense but holding steady, though he’s clearly as uncomfortable as he is caught off-guard. You lean into him, your voice dropping to a low murmur. “Act natural, Ghost.”

His gaze snaps to yours, and for a split second, you see a flicker of something unreadable there. You’re close enough now to notice the small flecks of blue in his otherwise dark eyes, and the way his jawline sharpens with each clenched muscle. With his mask on, only his eyes are exposed, but that alone is enough to assume what he's thinking.

He inhales deeply, and you feel the subtle shift in his posture as he settles into the role. “Fine,” he grits out, voice barely a whisper. His hands fall lower, resting on the small of your back, his fingers digging in as if grounding himself in the contact. His touch is firm, unfamiliar, and entirely too steady for a man supposedly uncomfortable with this.

Your heart pounds in your chest, an unexpected thrill coursing through you as you look up at him. You allow yourself to soften into his hold, your free hand lifting to trace over his collar, a gentle, intimate gesture meant to sell the image. His breath hitches, and you see the strain it takes for him to stay calm.

From the corner of your eye, you catch the Aegis operative slowing, still watching, his attention caught by your impromptu performance. Your pulse races, and to make it even more convincing, you tilt your head, voice lowering to an affectionate murmur.

“Just try not to look like you’d rather strangle me. Couples don’t usually do that, you know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, feigning the tone of someone playful, someone familiar.

Ghost’s jaw flexes. He leans down just a little, his mouth closer to your ear than is necessary. “Can’t say I’m in the mood to play games right now,” he mutters, each word laced with irritation.

The Aegis man watches a moment longer, then, with a brief shake of his head, turns away, apparently losing interest in what he assumes to be just a random couple visiting as tourists.

But you keep up the pretense a few moments longer, just in case, pressing closer to Ghost, letting your fingers graze his neck as if you’re brushing away invisible dust. The contact sends a jolt through you, each point of connection between you two heightened, charged with an intensity that has nothing to do with the mission.

“Next time, try using your head instead of whatever ridiculous impulse that was.” Ghost murmurs, his voice low and slightly strained, and you can’t help but notice the tightness in his tone. The moment stretches, awkward, as neither of you pulls away immediately.

You finally break the silence, letting out a soft laugh as you step back, creating a bit of space between you. You let your arms drop, barely holding back an eye roll. “My idea worked, didn’t it? If we’d gone with your tactic, he’d have already made us as threats.”

Ghost glares, unimpressed. “I don’t need advice from someone who thinks ‘blending in’ means making a spectacle.”

"Spectacle?” You snort, crossing your arms. “You think you’re subtle in that oversized hoodie, towering over everyone? Real covert, soldier.”

He leans in, his voice a rough whisper. “At least I’m not drawing attention by acting like we’re in some damn romance novel.”

You let out a mocking laugh, hands on your hips. “Don’t worry; I’m well aware this isn’t some romantic setup.” You can’t resist adding, “And trust me, you’re not exactly my type.”

He grunts, unimpressed. “Good. Wouldn’t want you getting attached.” With that, he steps forward, refocusing on the mission with the same cold, detached focus that somehow, despite everything, remains perfectly intact.

He nods down the alley, motioning for you to move along. You don’t miss a beat, following his lead. But as you both move forward, the feel of his steady hand, even in that begrudging moment, stays with you—far more than you’re willing to admit.

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You return to the safehouse in the city’s outskirts, the atmosphere thick with the scent of stale coffee and remnants of the last mission’s gear piled in corners. Price, Gaz, and Soap are gathered around the table, studying a large, folded map of the city as you and Ghost enter.

Price looks up, raising a brow. “You two look cozy. What’d you find out?”

Ghost’s jaw tightens, and you give Price a half-hearted glare. “Turns out the Aegis boys aren’t too hard to track. But they’re running tight security around their informants. We nearly had to dodge one who got suspicious.” You hesitate, shooting Ghost a sidelong glance. “But we managed.”

“‘Managed’? She practically threw herself on me,” Ghost mutters, half under his breath.

Soap snickers, unable to resist. “Didn’t know you were one for grand gestures, mate,” he drawls, clearly reveling in Ghost’s discomfort. “What was it this time? Arm over the shoulder, little peck on the cheek? Need details.”

Ghost gives him a deadly look. “Keep talking, and I’ll show you a ‘grand gesture’ you won’t forget.”

Ignoring them, you focus on the map and tap a finger at a cluster of marked points. “The recon confirmed Aegis is coordinating with locals here. Saw at least two exchanges. Money, files, maybe even weapons, though we couldn’t get close enough for specifics.”

Gaz nods thoughtfully, eyes tracking your finger on the map. “Did they look like they’d clocked us?”

“No, we kept it under wraps,” you say. “Though,” you add with a smirk, “someone here nearly blew our cover trying to look intimidating.”

“Funny. As I recall, it was you who nearly got us both caught,” Ghost retorts, crossing his arms. “Might want to re-evaluate your recon methods.”

Price interrupts. “Enough. We’ll stick to the task. Any idea where they’re taking these resources?”

You shake your head, but Ghost speaks up. “Not yet. But we saw a couple of their men make tracks toward a secondary site on the south side. Could be something worth checking.”

Soap rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh. “So basically, you both spent the day playing Romeo and Juliet and still didn’t find the main stash?”

You give him a deadpan look. “Oh, we found something. Next time, maybe you’d like to take point and see how smoothly it goes.”

“Alright, enough of the bickering,” Price interjects with a sigh, rubbing his temples. “We’ll head out tonight to follow up on that lead, split up to cover more ground.”

Gaz cracks a grin, nudging Soap. “Maybe Ghost’ll take you this time, eh, Soap? Sounds like he’s warmed up to the partner routine.”

Ghost’s eyes narrow, a ghost of a smile in them. “Sure. But don’t expect the same cozy treatment. I’ll let you walk into trouble yourself.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” Soap laughs, clearly enjoying every second of the ribbing.

Despite the banter, the team settles into a steady rhythm, dividing up roles for the evening recon. Price directs the team with his usual calm disposition, and as each person takes their assignment, the lighthearted tone fades into something more serious, each man’s focus sharpening.

Before long, you find yourself catching Ghost’s gaze again across the table, the memory of the ruse flickering briefly in his expression before he looks away, expression unreadable. In the space between words and plans, you can feel the unuttered pull linger, only slightly overshadowed by the next mission at hand.

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As the team disperses, you find yourself paired with Soap for the night, assigned to the district near the south docks. It’s surprisingly quiet for Istanbul, with narrow streets bathed in the faint glow of streetlights as you both slip into the shadowed alleys.

Soap grins, giving you a quick once-over. “Don’t worry, I’m a bit friendlier than Ghost. Might even share a laugh if you’re lucky.”

You smirk. “That’s a relief. I was starting to think everyone on this team was required to be at least half as grumpy as he is.”

Soap chuckles, the sound low and easy. “Ghost? Aye, he’s got a mood for every shade of the alphabet. But he’s solid. Can’t imagine anyone else at my back.”

The way he says it sparks a curiosity you hadn’t expected. “So what’s he like? Beyond the scowl and the tactical gear?”

Soap raises an eyebrow, as if surprised by the question. “You want the classified or the censored version?”

“Whichever one you’ll actually tell me.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Alright then. Ghost, he’s… complicated. Not the easiest to get along with, but he’s got this way of lookin’ out for people. Might not say it, but he cares. You wouldn’t believe how many times he’s pulled me out of a tight spot.”

“So he’s… what? The ‘quiet, brooding protector’ type?”

Soap’s eyes light up with amusement. “That’s a bit generous, don’t you think? Nah, he’s more like… well, imagine a guard dog that bites first and doesn’t bother with questions. But when he trusts you, he’s loyal to the bone.”

There’s something about the way Soap talks about him, a deep-rooted respect, maybe even admiration. You hesitate, glancing down the street. “He doesn’t exactly make it easy for people to trust him back.”

“Aye, well, Ghost’s been through more than most of us,” Soap says, his tone softening. “You get the mask, the armor—hard to know what’s really under it, even for us. But he’s there when it counts. Saved all our hides more times than I can count.”

You nod slowly, piecing together the fragments. “Sounds like he’s more than just a soldier to you all.”

Soap looks at you, a bit of that playfulness gone. “To us, he’s family. You’re the closest thing to safe when you’ve got Ghost on your team, even if he doesn’t show it.”

You’re quiet for a moment, absorbing the weight of his words. The contrast between Soap’s easy camaraderie and Ghost’s guarded presence feels stark, and something tugs at you—a strange curiosity about what lies beyond Ghost’s cold exterior.

Just then, Soap’s gaze shifts, his eyes narrowing as he scans the street ahead. “Heads up. Movement near the docks.”

Falling silent, you follow his line of sight. Two figures, both Aegis operatives, are talking by a dimly lit warehouse door. Instinctively, you both duck into the shadows.

You and Soap move quietly, slipping into the darkness along the side of the building. The Aegis operatives are deep in conversation, oblivious to their surroundings. Soap nods to you, indicating that he’ll loop around to cover the back while you hold position. With quick, soundless steps, he disappears down the alley, leaving you to observe the scene from the front.

As you crouch by a stack of crates, your earpiece crackles. “Eyes on the pair?” Soap’s voice is barely a whisper.

“Got ‘em,” you reply, watching as one of the men takes out a phone, glancing around before making a call. “They’re definitely up to something.”

The Aegis operatives’ conversation is too low to hear, but their gestures hint at something urgent. One of them hands off a small, sealed package, and your pulse quickens, recognizing it as intel worth retrieving. You lean closer, straining to catch any detail.

Suddenly, a third man appears at the entrance to the warehouse, looking straight in your direction. Your breath catches, and you press yourself further into the shadows, heart hammering as you resist the instinct to reach for your weapon.

But just before you’re forced to make a move, Soap’s voice comes over the line again, casual and unbothered. “Don’t s’pose I could take the package off yer hands, lads?”

The operatives whip around, their focus now diverted as Soap steps into view, looking every bit the cocky, unbothered soldier. He flashes them a grin, hands held just loose enough to suggest he’s armed.

Taking advantage of the distraction, you slip around the crates, circling back toward the men from behind. Soap, in his element, keeps their attention fixed on him, holding their gaze as he strikes up a casual banter, his voice carrying just enough to keep them engaged.

“I’ll have you know,” Soap is saying, “my mate here’s got a keen eye on what you’re holdin’. Might be wise to hand it over.”

With perfect timing, you appear behind the nearest operative, reaching around to pull the package free from his hand just as Soap gives you a slight nod. The men realize too late what’s happening, and by the time they spin around to catch you, both you and Soap are already slipping back into the shadows, disappearing down the narrow alley.

Once safely out of sight, Soap breaks into a triumphant grin. “Nice teamwork back there. Not too shabby for a last-minute operation.”

You laugh softly, catching your breath as you glance down at the package in your hand. “Guess we make a good team after all. Might just get used to this.”

“Don’t go gettin’ sentimental on me,” He teases, his grin widening. “One mission at a time, yeah?”

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With the intel in hand, you regroup with the rest of Task Force 141. You share the intel with the team, presenting the package to Price. He inspects it carefully, eyes narrowing as he pieces together the implications. The atmosphere in the room is serious, with everyone focused on the potential fallout of what you’ve just acquired.

“Good work,” Price nods, glancing between you and Soap. “You two made quite the pair out there.”

Soap feigns offense, putting a hand over his heart dramatically. “Are you sayin’ we’re a couple now, Captain?”

“Only if you keep makin’ those silly faces, Johnny,” Ghost mutters from the corner, his tone low and steady. The mask he wears obscures his expression, but you can almost feel the eye roll behind it.

Soap snorts, turning to you with a conspiratorial grin. “See? Even he can’t deny our chemistry.”

“Right, because nothing says teamwork like you flirting your way through a mission,” you retort, crossing your arms with a smirk. The banter lightens the mood, a brief distraction from the gravity of your task.

As the team gathers around the table in the secure room, Captain Price steps forward, wearing a pair of black gloves to maintain the integrity of the evidence. He carefully sets the package down, the anticipation palpable in the air.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here,” Captain Price says, his voice steady but laced with focus. He flicks open the package, the sound of tape tearing breaking the tense silence.

He reaches in and pulls out a hard drive, holding it up like a trophy. “This,” He says, “could hold encrypted communications. We need to run this through our systems ASAP. If it contains the right information, it could expose Aegis’s entire operation.”

He sets the drive down on the table with a determined expression. “This is a potential gold mine. We’ll analyze it and figure out our next move. Well done, team. Let’s keep the momentum going.”

The room buzzes with renewed energy as the team begins discussing their next steps, the weight of the mission settling in as they prepare to crack open the drive.

The meeting wraps up, providing you some time to rest. You can’t shake the feeling that this might be a turning point, not just for your mission but for your place within the team. The challenges ahead seem daunting, but with Task Force 141 proving themselves to be solid allies, you feel like you can ease up a little.

Late into the night, the dim light of a single desk lamp flickers against the walls of the operations room. Papers are strewn across the table, and the glow of a computer screen casts an eerie illumination on your tired face. 

Inside the hard drive, you uncover a maze of encrypted files and fragmented data—a chaotic assortment of documents, names, transaction logs, and surveillance footage. Aegis hasn’t left all their secrets in one place; instead, they’ve left a collection of clues, each file holding a piece of something larger, but almost impossible to make sense of at first glance.

The files range from heavily coded communication logs between high-level operatives to bank account information buried behind layers of false accounts and international wire transfers. Some documents reference specific locations—safehouses, abandoned warehouses, private airfields—but they’re listed under codenames. Without context, they’re nothing more than cryptic coordinates. There are also brief dossiers with incomplete profiles of known mercenaries, possibly detailing recruits Aegis has had contact with, though their roles remain murky.

As you sift through this labyrinth of information, you realize the enormity of the task ahead. Just decrypting these files will take time, but making sense of the connections—figuring out who these people are, how each transaction feeds into Aegis’s broader operations, and what they’re building toward—feels like piecing together a puzzle with half the pieces missing.

“Bloody hell…” you mutter under your breath, scanning through what looks like one of many altered account logs, noting how Aegis has buried its dealings under layers of bureaucracy and false names. This kind of data will need more than just brute force; it’ll require teams at the main SAS base, with analysts who can cross-reference against other intelligence databases and put everything in context.

You lean back, rubbing your temples. It’s maddeningly complex and deliberately fragmented. You have a hard drive full of secrets—but until you get the proper resources and time to decrypt and analyze it, you’re left with more questions than answers.

For now, all you can do is wait for Price to send it off. And in the meantime, you know every passing day gives Aegis more time to cover their tracks, complicating the hunt even further.

The faint sound of footsteps approaches, and you barely notice until a shadow falls over your desk. You look up to see Ghost, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“Still at it?” he asks, his voice low but firm.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I can’t help it. There��s too much at stake here. We need to figure out what Aegis is planning. If we miss something—”

“Yeah, I get it,” he replies, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone. “But you’re going to wear yourself out. You can’t do this on fumes.”

You shrug, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “What’s the point of sleeping? Aegis betrayed me over one failed mission. They’re not going to let that go. They’ll come after me, and I can’t just sit back and wait for them to make their move.”

Ghost’s gaze narrows slightly, and he tilts his head as he listens. “I know it’s rough. But pushing yourself isn’t going to change what they’re planning. You think you can outsmart them just by burning the midnight oil?”

You meet his gaze, feeling a mix of annoyance and determination. “It’s not just about being smart. It’s about being ready. Aegis is ruthless. They’re not going to stop until they’ve made an example of me. I can’t let that happen.”

Ghost’s expression softens slightly, but he keeps his tone even. “You’ve got every reason to be pissed off. But don’t let that drive you to exhaustion. You need to keep your wits about you if you’re going to face them again.”

You lean back in your chair, exhaling slowly. “I know what I need to do, but I’m not going to stand by while they plot against me. I can’t afford to be blindsided again.”

“Just don’t lose sight of yourself in the process,” he says, his voice steady. “It’s easy to let anger take the wheel. You don’t want to make any reckless moves.”

Finally, you let out a short laugh, albeit without humor. “Thanks for the unsolicited advice, Ghost. I’ll keep that in mind while I’m trying to keep my head above water.”

He gives you a faint nod, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly, perhaps in acknowledgment of your sarcasm. As he turns to leave, you feel a strange sense of resolution settle over you. You don’t need his encouragement, but having him listen—even with that no-nonsense approach—makes a difference.

“Try to get some sleep,” he says over his shoulder before disappearing into the hallway. You don’t know if you’ll actually follow his advice, but you feel a little lighter, as if you can face whatever Aegis has in store for you, one way or another.

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“Oi, you look like hell,” Soap says, grinning as he nudges your arm. “Didn’t catch much shut-eye last night?”

You roll your eyes, gripping your coffee like it’s a lifeline. “I got enough,” you mutter, giving him a glare over the rim of your mug.

“Enough to sleepwalk, maybe,” Soap teases. “Just don’t trip over yourself when we’re in the field, eh?”

Price leans back in his chair, looking between you and Ghost. “You two done givin’ each other grief yet?” he says with a slight smirk.

“Can’t help it if she’s stubborn,” Ghost grumbles, arms crossed. “Or if she insists on overworking herself.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow. “As if you’re not constantly brooding somewhere with no regard for sleep.”

Gaz chuckles, glancing at Soap. “Think they’ll ever get along?”

Soap shrugs with a mischievous grin. “Nah, that’d be boring. They’re more fun like this.”

“Right, because fun’s what we’re here for,” Ghost deadpans, shooting Soap a pointed look.

Before Soap can come up with a retort, a loud beep echoes through the room, cutting the banter short. The team goes silent as Price taps his earpiece, eyes narrowing with focus.

“This is Price,” he says, his voice all business now. He listens intently, and his expression grows darker with each passing second. “Understood. We’ll move in immediately.”

He looks at each of you in turn, his jaw set. “Just got word from HQ. Aegis movements reported on the eastern front of the city—some high-profile targets involved. Intel suggests they’re gearing up for something, but details are thin.”

Gaz straightens. “So they’re here, then? What do you reckon they’re after?”

“Could be retaliation, could be more intel grabs,” Price replies. “We won’t know till we’re in there. But this is what we’ve been preparing for.”

Ghost gives you a sharp look, his expression unreadable. “Looks like you’re gettin’ your wish,” he says, a hint of warning in his tone.

You meet his gaze, unflinching. “Good. Maybe I can finally get some answers.”

“Save your vendettas,” Price interrupts. “We go in sharp and leave nothing to chance. I want recon and support in teams. Soap, you’re with Gaz. Ghost, you’re with her.”

Soap gives a mock salute, grinning. “Guess it’s date night for the both of you again.”

You and Ghost shoot him equally exasperated looks, but the levity is brief as the weight of the mission settles over everyone.

“Alright, gear up,” Price orders. “We move in ten.”

The team disperses to prepare, the air thick with tension and purpose. But you can’t shake the feeling of anticipation, your mind already running through scenarios as you prepare to face Aegis again.

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You and Ghost are in the heart of the city, navigating through narrow alleyways toward an abandoned building where Aegis is rumored to be holed up. The air is thick with pressure, the sharp scent of gunpowder lingering in the air, and the faint hum of activity just out of sight. The team has dispersed into their positions, but you can’t shake the heavy feeling of anticipation pressing down on you. Aegis is moving fast, too fast, and you didn’t think they would strike this soon.

You spent all night huddled over your desk, scanning through endless intelligence reports, piecing together a fragmented picture of Aegis’s operations. You thought you had more time. You thought you could afford to burn the midnight oil, believing that if you could just connect the dots, you could prepare for what was coming.

Had you known they’d be on the move so quickly, you would have rested. You would’ve prepped your body, gotten the sleep you so desperately needed. But now, as exhaustion clings to you like a second skin, you feel every bit of it catching up. Your head is heavy, your limbs sluggish, and your focus is just a fraction slower than it should be. You can feel your grip tightening on your weapon, but it’s not enough to stave off the creeping fatigue that clouds your senses.

You take a sharp breath and push through. You can’t afford to slow down now. But as you step into another narrow passage, your foot catches on a loose stone. The stumble is almost imperceptible, but it’s enough. Before you can react, a figure emerges from the shadows, and a flash of movement pulls you back to reality. Your weapon goes up instinctively, but the delay is just enough for the figure to get a shot off.

“On your left!” Ghost barks, urgency in his voice.

You squeeze the trigger, narrowly avoiding disaster as the enemy drops to the ground. The tension in your chest refuses to ease, but Ghost isn’t letting you off the hook.

He spins toward you, fury simmering in his gaze. “What the bloody hell was that? You’re slipping. Again.” His voice is low, but it’s thick with anger, his arms crossed as he towers over you. “You think you can keep pushing yourself like this, running on fumes? Is that what you’re trying to do, get yourself killed?”

You bite back the sharp retort, feeling the weight of his anger digging into you. You’ve made a mess of this, and the guilt is clawing at your chest. “I didn’t expect them to move this fast,” you say, your voice tight. “Had I known they’d be ready, I would’ve prepared better. But I thought—”

“Enough!” Ghost interrupts, his voice rising slightly, his glare intensifying. “You think this is a bloody game? Aegis doesn’t wait around for you to get your head on straight. You can’t afford to be careless. You’re not invincible, and I’m not here to babysit you while you burn yourself out.”

The sting of his words lands harder than any bullet could, and you feel your chest tighten. His anger isn’t just frustration—it’s something deeper. You know you’ve crossed a line, and it makes your throat constrict as his words hit harder than you thought they would.

“Ghost…” You start to respond, but the words catch in your throat.

“You don’t get it, do you?” He takes a step closer, his gaze unrelenting, the edge of his voice cutting through the quiet. “You’re not just risking your life. You’re risking all of ours by pushing yourself like this. And I’m sick of watching you burn out, thinking you’re going to win this on your own.”

You can feel his anger radiating off him, thick and palpable, and it makes your stomach churn. You’re fully aware of your mistakes now—of your failure to rest, of your exhaustion clouding your judgment. The weight of it presses down on you, but you don’t dare let it show.

Your lips tremble slightly, fighting the wave of emotion that threatens to overwhelm you. You know he’s right. You fucked up, and there’s no denying it now. You stay silent, swallowing the rising lump in your throat, trying to compose yourself.

“Don’t you dare make this harder than it already is,” Ghost growls, his voice harsh, but there’s something else in it now—something that sounds almost… worried. “This mission is too important for your pride. Now pull it together, or I swear to God I’ll drag you out of here myself.”

Your head spins with a mix of frustration, guilt, and exhaustion. But before you can respond, the quiet night air is shattered by the sound of gunfire. The ground trembles beneath your boots as Aegis reinforcements surge from the shadows. The mission has officially kicked into high gear.

“Stay sharp,” Ghost orders, the anger in his tone giving way to focus as the team goes on high alert.

You don’t have time to argue. You push past the knot in your stomach and focus. Gunfire rings out, and before you know it, you’re thrust into the chaos—bullets flying, shouts filling the air. You move with purpose, your instincts kicking in, but the exhaustion never truly leaves. Your movements feel sluggish, slower than you want them to be, and it shows in the way you miss a few too many shots.

Ghost moves beside you, covering your blind spots, keeping an eye on you as you both push through the streets. The mission has become a blur of adrenaline, but you know the stakes are high. The pressure mounts with every passing second.

Then, just as you’re about to make your next move, you hear it—a footstep behind you. Without thinking, you spin, ready to fire. But the attacker is quicker, his blade flashing toward Ghost, and you only have a split second to react.

You throw yourself forward, shoving him aside, feeling the sharp sting of the enemy’s blade graze across the back of your shoulder as you land. The pain is immediate—burning and sharp—but you fight it down, keeping your focus.

You hear Ghost curse as you roll to your feet, weapon still in hand, and fire, taking down the enemy in a single shot. But you’re not focused on that. You can feel the blood soaking through your shirt, the warmth of it trickling down your back, but your body is still running on pure instinct.

Ghost’s hands are on your shoulders before you can fully process what’s happening. “For god’s sake, are you trying to die out here?” His voice cracks with frustration, his fingers gently pressing against your wound, but you barely register it through the haze of pain.

“Twice now,” you mutter under your breath, trying to steady yourself as your vision swims. “Guess I saved your ass again.”

For a brief moment, Ghost falls silent. His gaze lingers on your back, then moves to your face. You can���t look at him. You’re not sure you could if you wanted to. He doesn’t say anything, but his gloved hands are firm as he checks the wound, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. The silence between you both feels thick, heavy with everything unsaid.

“Don’t make a habit of it,” he finally growls, his voice low but not without a trace of concern buried deep beneath the frustration.

And as he helps you back to your feet, his hand on your shoulder, you know that despite the weight of his anger, he’s still watching your back.

The pain in your shoulder is sharp, but you can’t afford to think about it now. Ghost’s grip on your arm is firm, steadying you as you stand. You can feel his gaze on you, but you avoid looking at him. There’s nothing left to say right now. Not when the mission is still in full swing, and Aegis is still out there.

You take a quick breath and focus. “I’ll be fine,” you mutter, biting back the wave of dizziness that threatens to pull you under. You reach for your medical kit, the sharp sting of your wound only registering as you unstrap it, cursing under your breath.

“Don’t get stupid,” Ghost mutters, but his voice is lower now, tinged with a quiet frustration that’s almost a comfort in the heat of the moment.

You tear off a piece of cloth from the sleeve of your jacket, quickly applying a makeshift bandage to your shoulder. It’s not much—a temporary fix at best—but it’ll do for now. You can feel the blood seeping through your clothes, but the pressure should at least slow the bleeding.

With a quick nod to Ghost, you signal that you’re good to go. The pain is still there, pulsing with each movement, but you’ll push through. You have to.

“Let’s move,” you say, your voice a little steadier than before, though it cracks slightly. You don’t wait for his reply, already moving forward with your weapon in hand, eyes scanning every corner for Aegis.

Ghost doesn’t hesitate to fall in step beside you, his eyes on high alert, always watching. His earlier anger is still simmering beneath the surface, but there’s a silent understanding between you now. He doesn’t trust you to keep pushing yourself, but he’s not about to leave you behind.

The streets are eerily quiet as you advance, the only sounds being your footsteps and the occasional distant crackle of gunfire. You’ve lost the element of surprise. The enemy knows you’re here, and Aegis has always been good at covering their tracks. You can feel it in the air—an overwhelming sense of dread that tightens your chest.

As you reach the center of the abandoned district, the team regroups, spreading out to cover every possible exit. There’s no sign of Aegis yet. The trap is set. But as the minutes tick by, doubt begins to creep in.

Nothing. No sign of movement, no reinforcements rushing in. It feels… wrong. Your stomach churns as the silence stretches on, your nerves taut as you wait for something—anything. But the longer you wait, the more your instincts start to scream at you.

You glance at Ghost, who’s scanning the horizon. His jaw is clenched, eyes narrowed in concentration. He senses it too. You feel a growing unease, that something isn’t right. Aegis shouldn’t be this quiet. They should have come to fight.

Then, the realization hits. They’re gone.

“Shit,” Ghost growls, slamming his fist against a nearby wall in frustration. “They slipped through our fingers.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to. The bitter taste of failure is heavy on your tongue. Aegis has outmaneuvered you again, leaving nothing behind but empty streets and the echo of your own mistakes.

You’re not surprised, but the sting of it cuts just as deep. You push down the urge to lash out, to blame yourself for not being more prepared, for not being sharp enough, for still feeling the burn of the wound in your shoulder that’s distracting you.

“Price is gonna love this,” you mutter, your voice a mix of bitterness and exhaustion.

“Focus on getting back,” Ghost snaps, though there’s no real malice behind the words. It’s just a statement of fact. No time for self-pity. “We’ll regroup at the base, figure out what went wrong.”

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The mission was a failure, and the weight of it sits heavy on your chest as you make your way back to base with Ghost. His presence behind you is unyielding, and there’s a quiet tension in the air that neither of you speaks of. You know you fucked up. You should have rested, you should have been prepared, and now Aegis is slipping through your fingers again. Ghost’s gaze doesn’t leave you, his silence louder than any words could be.

Once inside the base, Ghost grabs your arm without warning, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Ghost, what the hell—?” you start, but he doesn’t let go.

You’re about to say something, but the words die in your throat. It’s not until you reach his room that he stops and turns to face you, eyes hard as he surveys your face.

“Take off your shirt,” he orders, voice rough, brows drawn in frustration.

Your heart skips a beat, and your stomach drops. You freeze for a second, not understanding, trying to make sense of his words, but it’s clear he’s not going to back down.

“You heard me,” he growls. “Off. Now.”

You stand there, blinking in shock, your mind struggling to process his demand. “What?” you sputter, cheeks flaring as the words sink in.

His gaze doesn't waver, not even a flicker of understanding or amusement. “The wound on your back. Take off your shirt so I can see it properly.”

“Oh.” You blink, realizing what he actually meant, and feel the embarrassment rush in, hotter and sharper than you’d expected. “Right. Of course. The… wound.”

Despite your best efforts to keep it casual, your hands fumble at the hem of your shirt, and you can't ignore the faint, traitorous flush creeping up your neck. Ghost doesn't seem to notice—or if he does, he shows no sign of it, his focus locked on the matter at hand.

But the command still makes you tense. You feel your cheeks flush, your breath hitching in your throat as your mind races. You’re caught between being embarrassed and feeling the sting of humiliation. You haven’t let anyone see you like this—vulnerable, injured, exposed. And now Ghost is making you do it.

You look up at him, and there’s no softness in his eyes. He just stares at you with a hard, unrelenting gaze, waiting for you to comply.

“Do it,” he repeats, and his voice is a little tense this time, almost like a command for your own good.

Reluctantly, you pull your shirt over your head, revealing the fabric of your bra. The cool air of the room hits your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You’re suddenly aware of how exposed you are, how vulnerable it makes you feel. Your breath hitches, and you quickly turn your back to him, feeling the heat rise to your face.

“Just… patch it up,” you murmur, trying to make the moment less awkward. The thought of standing there, half-undressed, feels like a lifetime of embarrassment.

Ghost stays silent for a long beat. When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost measured, as if trying to hold back some frustration.

“You’re a bloody idiot,” he mutters, but there’s no anger in his tone now, just a soft edge of concern that you wouldn’t have expected from him. “You push yourself too far. Didn’t I warn you?”

You feel your heart race in your chest, not from fear but from something else—something that’s hard to place. Maybe it’s his words or maybe it’s the vulnerability of the moment, but it makes you feel more exposed than you ever have before.

“Ghost, I—”

He cuts you off, gently moving to stand behind you. You feel his hands near your shoulder, and you tense instinctively, but he doesn’t make any sudden moves. Instead, his fingers hover just over the wound.

“Don’t make me regret letting you keep going like this,” he says, his voice softer now. There’s no anger, no frustration—just something else. Almost an apology without the words. It makes your breath catch. “You saved me back there, and I…”

You’re surprised when he doesn’t finish his sentence. The silence in the room stretches, thick with something you don’t quite understand. Ghost’s hands move to gently tend to the wound on your back, the pressure light as he dabs at the injury, cleaning it carefully. It stings, but you don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

As Ghost finishes cleaning around the wound, his hand stills for a moment, lingering against your shoulder. His gloved fingers trace gently over the outline of the injury, almost as if he’s memorizing the line of it, and the silence stretches between you, deep and drawn out. Your breath hitches, the tenderness in his touch starkly at odds with the fury he showed earlier. It’s a side of him you haven’t seen before—one that feels cautious, almost hesitant, and something deep inside you stirs—a strange, unfamiliar feeling.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and uncharacteristically solemn. “Thanks,” he mutters, barely louder than a whisper. His fingers linger a fraction longer, tracing the area surrounding the wound with a kind of reverence that surprises you. “For what you did back there.”

The words hang in the air between you, raw and genuine. You can tell it costs him something to say it, to admit he appreciates what you’ve done—even if he hates the risks you took. You swallow, feeling an unexpected warmth settle in your chest at his words. It’s rare to hear him offer any gratitude, and the vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard.

“I… didn’t do it to impress you,” you reply, voice steady but soft.

Another silence falls, more loaded this time. His hand shifts slightly, his thumb barely brushing against the edge of your shoulder blade, and the gentleness in the touch has your pulse racing despite yourself. He seems to be struggling with something—some inner hesitation that makes his grip falter, his fingers tensing slightly against your skin.

“Still,” he murmurs after a long pause, his voice so quiet you barely catch it, “you don’t have to do it like that. Don’t throw yourself in harm’s way just because of me.”

“If the roles were reversed, you’d do the same, I hope," you reply quietly.

Ghost’s jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn’t deny it. He lets out a slow, measured breath, his fingers lingering on your shoulder one last time before he pulls his hand back, the warmth of his touch disappearing as quickly as it came.

“Doesn’t make it any easier to watch, though,” he says, almost to himself, his tone somewhere between exasperation and resignation.

The two of you stand there in silence for a beat longer, the unuttered words between you thickening the air, and for once, neither of you breaks it. 

For the first time since you two met, you feel like you're beginning to understand the kind of person he is.

[drrden]

Leon Kennedy x Gender Neutral! Reader - The story is on Wattpad too.

Summary: Two rival agents are tasked to go undercover together to retrieve information on a security breach. The mission will span over a few months, in which they have to share an apartment and pretend to be a couple.

Tags: Enemies To Lovers, Slowburn, Forced Proximity, Fake Dating.

Chapter One - Animosity. 3008 Words.

Abundantly, the rainfall patters against the shrouded windows, the humidity a testament to the drizzly, somewhat melancholic weather outside the conference room, wherein there's an all too familiar stillness in the air. Government files are orderly dispersed across the mahogany table, itemizing information regarding the content of the forthcoming assignment shared between none other than Leon Kennedy and yourself. Cursing inwardly to yourself about the whole ordeal, you figure there's no point in letting your mutual animosity with one another get in the way of securing major information, which is the objective of said classified mission. What an uncomfortably warm room you find yourself confined within, the aura almost smothering - and you're sure that you can't be the only one capable of acknowledging such a fact. The sound of the clock ticking acts as a backdrop to the almost entirely taciturn space, as the two of you stand in distant proximity, refusing to avert your gaze from the queerly placed lectern, seeming as if it had been taken directly from a University classroom. It seems ridiculous, two grown adults behaving as if they were youths in detention because of one another; the strangely nostalgic feeling of wanting to be anywhere else but with your peer at the moment. Yet, here the two of you are, anticipating the arrival of your superior, who'll be mapping out the prospects of your job. Two seasoned agents, one arguably more accomplished than the other, obliged to work alongside each other, irrespective of whatever preceding conflict. Just at the pinnacle moment where you believed you could almost drown in the silence, in strides your higher-up, who greets the two of you with a knowing look, her emerald eyes narrowing as she approaches the lectern. "So," Emma begins with a stale tone to her voice, suspecting this debriefing won't be going swimmingly, "The two of you have been paired together for a mission that all major personnel here at USSTRATCOM believe will span over a significant amount of time." Leaving a brief pause for you and your adversary to process the uninvited information, revealing the two of you have the misfortune of seeing a lot more of each other. A knot forms in your stomach and it both churns and twists, a sharp inhale of breath following as you picture having to spend time with such an individual who's so aloof with you. Leon, however, doesn't offer such an outward expression of his discomfort, instead his jaw tenses and his brows furrow, not being one to give you the satisfaction of a reaction. Sighing audibly, Emma resumes with her description of what you're tasked to endure alongside Leon, "This isn't one of those operations where you can simply go out and take down a B.O.W., you're doing a series of infiltrations into what we expect to be numerous facilities, all in regards to cyber attacks against the United States. The only problem is that they seem to be from within." Rather than stomaching a hasty, elementary intel mission built upon the foundations of pure stealth, you're expected to endure a lengthy endeavor beside Leon, since it's the safest option. It's to be approached with disquiet, as one small oversight can tarnish the mission, as losing information isn't something that can be easily resolved by calling in for backup like you would with a B.O.W. if it was deemed fit. No, this is a two-person mission and it's going to remain that way to the conclusion. Detecting the apprehension, she motions to the two folders on the table, both of which contain the same information, a more in-depth insight into the delegation. 

Swiping up a folder before Leon can get to one first, you challenge Emma on the partner selection, "Out of all the agents working for America, how did Leon and I being paired come to fruition, exactly?" Admittedly, the word choices are sugar-coated to a degree, despite the fact you're never hesitant to critique your stoic colleague, even as he stands beside you. The brunette pinches the bridge of her nose and turns her back to you, shaking her head as if you had just told her that the sky is blue, "Professional agents should be able to work together regardless of their relationship. If you have a problem with such basic standards as this, then you may want to reconsider your line of work." Just the mere implication of her statement makes your spine shudder, soon opting for the decision to keep your job, and therefore quiet. Taking the opportunity to read through the file, you feel Leon's shoulder bump against you as he reaches for his paperwork - and you figure that it was done intentionally. Huffing, you begin to skim through the information. The two agents are expected to be together on this assignment for up to five months, potentially even more depending on the complexity of retrieving the information, and the extent of what they uncover. Since the mission is based far away from where either of them lives, they've both been temporarily rehomed in a two-bedroom apartment which they are expected to share; no exceptions will be made in regards to booking a hotel to live separately. Our main goal is to find out what technology was used in the latest Government security breach, as many incline that the suspects are related to Umbrella in some form. There's much more information that you read, and it forces you to realize the gravity of the situation, and how vital it is in the security of the country, especially if Umbrella is somehow engaged with it. Swallowing your pride for the sake of appeasing Emma's expectations, you stiffly turn to face Leon, gazing up at him apprehensively through your eyelashes. "...Guess that makes us partners then, huh?" You quip, in an attempt to make light of the strained predicament, to which Leon replies with a curt nod, azure eyes staring down into yours vacuously - until he extends a hand. "I guess it does, partner." Mild amusement glimmers within his eyes as he feels your fingers grudgingly intertwine with his, and he offers a firm shake, calloused hand enveloping yours as he squeezes a little too tight. Surely, there's no such thing as being overtly eager if it's for the sake of a job? After all, if the two of you don't act civil in front of Emma, she might supersede the two of you and force you into doing paperwork on an overtime shift instead.  As if either of the two of you would wish to face a punishment so severe as a result of your immaturity. Retracting your hand the second it's respectable to do so, you wipe it on the leg of your trousers, shooting Leon an alerting glower. The corner of his mouth twitches and you can almost swear you perceive a ghost of a smirk gracing his lips, yet it vanishes just as quickly as it had appeared. Waving a hand dismissively, Emma straightens her blazer and turns to you for the final time, warning laced in her words, "Whatever you do, don't let the enmity between the two of you complicate things. Your jobs, and likely the safety of the country, are in your hands, agents." 

Holding some semblance of common sense, you seize the opening and exit the room, clutching the file and holding it close to your chest - a permanent reminder that you'll have to give up so much just for the contents of a mere folder. Gnawing on your bottom lip, your pace increases as you maneuver your way through the labyrinth of hallways, intent on taking the opportunity of spending your last nights in your city appropriately. By executing the best means you can to shroud the fact that there's an underlying sense of impending doom, whether that be from repercussions of the mission or the inclination that you may be driven to insanity just having to share a home with Leon Kennedy of all people for an undisclosed length of time. It's harsh and biting as you step out into the glacial evening, thick sums of fog already obscuring a good volume of the stretch, as if some snobbish poet is enforcing pathetic fallacy into your everyday life. Perhaps your fate is already predetermined, maybe by some miracle chance your partner will be swapped at the last minute, preferably to someone like Casey who you cross paths with mainly in the break room, since your offices are at opposite ends of the hall. Despite your heavily limited interactions, she'd be a much better option than Leon, who doesn't exactly set a high bar for standards in the ideal mission partner. Not only has the rain been persistent, but it steadily increases with the more time you spend outside, which seems to be the staple in defining your day as the worst one you've had in a significant amount of time. Walking for such a lengthy amount of time is an ideal way of clearing your mind of any lingering thoughts that overstay their welcome too long, such as how living with Leon will work. Within the file, it cited that the two of you must go out and spend time with one another as if you were a couple, so as not to draw any unwanted attention from the opposition, lest they unveil your true identities and have you terminated. Nothing has been specified in terms of what you're expected to do, meaning the two of you will eventually have to sit down and navigate the topic yourselves, setting boundaries and coming up with ways to appear as a happy couple who're healthily obsessed with one another. After all, the apartment is situated in an unscrupulous area of the city, there's bound to be means of surveilling people who've recently moved into the area. Internally, you recoil at the consideration of having to address the person you detest most in the workplace with terms of endearment such as 'babe' and 'sweetheart' - no, thank you. With haste, you shake the thoughts from your mind and focus on the current task at hand; managing to get a place on any form of public transport at five in the afternoon. Exactly at the post-work traffic rush, with a good chunk of the city having been occupants in regular, everyday office jobs that are open between the hours of nine in the morning and five in the afternoon. Or, rather, evening, depending on the perception of each individual. All that you know is, right now? You're aiming to get home as swiftly as possible to satisfy your quench for familiarity before getting sent off to an unexplored municipality. A foreboding sentiment lingers permanently in the back of your mind regardless of all of these falsely assured affirmations, since hazardous missions and temperamental rivals don't tend to mix well together all too well. 

Rubbing his face with his worn palm, Leon keeps his eyes firmly closed and expression tight, leaning back in the chair behind his desk, sounding a familiar creaking noise as he does so. Leon's a calm man, a self-proclaimed remarkably calm man - who maintains his composure and facade of nonchalance to his best ability. Yet, the mere concept of having to be away for months on end without closure for when he'll be able to arrive home doesn't come across as particularly appealing to him even in the slightest. Not a glimmer of content within all the thoughts rearing at the forefront of his conscience at this moment in time, having faced enough strain today with the unending stream of paperwork following his last mission in rural Spain. That one certainly took a toll on him, having been confronted by conflicting thoughts following the rash appearance of Ada, who he had presumed dead all that time ago back in Raccoon City. The mindlessness of the villagers who inhabited the village reminded him of the familiar state of those driven with bloodlust in the ruined city in which he had intended to be a police officer. An endless cycle of helplessness, the harsh reality of knowing not everyone can be saved in a situation, regardless of how many times he reassures himself that it can be different. Plagued by guilt and a complexity based upon being a survivor, often brooding to himself why he was one of the few who was lucky enough to survive the bloodbath, the extensive loss of life and humanity across such a short period. No matter how much he tries to mask it in front of others, Leon's deeply troubled by the events and will forever remain so, unwilling to reach out and seek help from anyone. He just doesn't have the time to, nor the energy. Speaking about the past cannot alter it, only eating as a looming reminder of all the things that he could have done differently, what could have been avoided as to better the outcome of said events. The guilt is immense despite the impossibility of a single rookie cop saving an entire city on his postponed first day, stopping a virus from overthrowing the place and tarnishing it. Just recalling the events is bad enough, let alone vocalizing his experience and reliving it all again as if it were six years ago, before he was forced into a metamorphosis of personality and being; unable to recognize himself at his lowest points. Preferring to claim that he's changed, despite the disagreement of Ada who believes otherwise, still seeing him as a naive young man. But who is he to trust her, of all people, considering the betrayal and deceptive nature of the woman - is Ada even her real name or just an alias for anonymity? Though he acts unphased, it's given him an apprehensive take on trusting others, only bestowing his conviction upon a set number of people who he's closest to. After all, any of his colleagues could secretly be a double agent, with leniency towards whoever the opposition is - meaning it isn't always the best option to allow people to get too close to him. Adamant on refusing to be taken advantage of again to unknowingly help the wrong people, regardless of how detached it may make him come across at times; usually something he does with the people who he can't help but want to trust the most, despite any misconceptions he leads them to believe.

Polar opposites is the most suitable definition for the dynamic between the two of you, having been acquaintances when you first joined USSTRATCOM back in 2002, meaning there's been an entire two years for the both of you to harbor resentment for one another. Some people aren't meant to find one another appealing or tolerate them, and that can be handled with efficiency if they aren't regularly in each other's company. Quite simply, that's a prevalent issue in regards to you and Leon, who shares an office with you and two other agents who he tends to forget the names of at times. Just isn't the type to mix his personal affairs and his job, since it's taxing on his mental well-being, so it's better to try not to let anything from work be involved in his personal life to the greatest extent that he can manage to do so. Despite not being overtly cocky or anything involving overconfidence, the broad differentiation in experience as agents is one of the reasons the two of you have never seemed to have a moment where you realize that you can cooperate with one another to some degree and overlook your past conflict. Perhaps it's just the case of right job, wrong time, on your behalf, since the two of you would've been in similar levels of inexperience if you joined all the way back in 1998 when Leon had been forced into doing so. Facing grueling training, which you were lucky enough to get the good end of, since they must have made it a lot more intense in the following years after Leon's initial inauguration into working for the Government. It's not that he's completely unapproachable, or a guy who's entirely miserable, it's you don't get along all that greatly. You've heard of him being kind hearted towards others, such as the President's daughter, Ashley Graham, when Leon saved her from Los Illuminados the other month. Some may argue that his kindness can be solely due to the fact that the poor girl was completely unsettled and frightened for her life, and that she isn't accustomed to seeing such heinous violence. Maybe, during the mission, he felt like she was a little sister to him, considering the age gap between the two is over five years. There's some people who he knows he has to look after, and others that he knows are perfectly capable of holding their own and being secure in their skills. Despite this, with you, it's uncertain what to expect now that the two of you will be pursuing a mission together that isn't with at least two other people. This isn't a typical mission, either, it isn't short nor filled to the brim with action and set obstacles to face. It's more lengthy and slow paced, unfamiliar territory for the two of you to navigate the best you can, without giving into the urge of bickering like an old married couple. There's a concerning amount of unresolved conflict when it comes to you and Leon, having many arguments left open which are simmering in the backdrop of each interaction, anticipation building for the subjects of disagreement to come to the surface once more. Maybe the two of you will finally be able to talk out your differences, as not to put the task at hand at risk. Then again, when it comes to you and Leon Scott Kennedy, things are never quite as they initially present themselves as being. Regardless of how this ends, it's going to be a long next few months.