#love to see siobhan still in her little guy phase

[acourtoffeyandfables]

[ascottywrites]

Love on a Silver Platter -- All Hallows Eve

                                        Love on a Silver Platter

                                            All Hallows Eve

          Behold the power of the Tide and all the wishes made wherein…

12:00 AM October 31

  A fog rolled in over the city, covering it like a winter coat. An unusual sight for the time of year. But that’s not what set this day apart from the other, going unnoticed by the one who most needed to see it. Though, perhaps if those involved would have been more wary and there would not be a story that needed telling.   In the stead of ominous weather, it all started because of a book. A thick leather-bound thing that took obvious care to create. Something taken as so innocuous it could be given as a gift from one friend to another. A petty little parcel accompanied by a birthday card with sarcastic note written inside:

  All Hallows Eve. The one night of the year when the link between the two worlds is at its peak. Doors are opened. Spirits can cross. Wishes can be made and magic appears where magic did not exist before. Happy Samhain.

  Happy Birthday weirdo! Open on your birthday ONLY and go to the marked pages. I’ll know if you don’t you cheating cheater who cheats.

                                                                                                                                                                                                          Love you Asshole                                                                                                                                                                                                         Call me in the morning

   Blinded by ignorance, none took heed off that rolling fog or the series of perfect events Siobhan Ferguson unwittingly set in motion that would make this gift something far from trivial.

2:00 AM

Happy Halloween my lovely weirdos!

   Veronica Torres replied to your comment: Yooooo! Happy Birthday asshat! Did you open my gift?

   Penny Sutherland replied to your comment: Happy Anniversary of the day of your birth! Why are you still awake anyway?  

   Siobhan Vonnie Ferguson: Veronica I did open your gift and did so at the specified time.                                                Penny you know, the yoose. I lit the fireplace too late. Waiting for it to die so my apartment doesn’t catch fire while I’m sleepin’. Thank you both, my best loves!

   Siobhan snorted when the chat window popped up at the bottom of her screen.

Veronica: Your only loves you fuckin’ liar. Open it! Siobhan: I did open it you asshole. A book of spells? Really? Penny: Hahahaaaaaa!! Veronica you’re such a dick! Veronica: No. I’m a godsend. Penny I got the book, true. But really I got her the specific spell inside. Penny: OMG I’m afraid to ask. Veronica: It’s time for her to get laid. She’s gonna be 40 before we know it. Penny: A love spell? I just died laughing. Siobhan: I’d appreciate you two not carrying on like I’m not here. Veronica: But frfr have you ever thought of it? Siobhan: What? Being a virgin until I’m 40? Seriously? Penny: OMG! Please! Why am I friends with you two? Veronica: No you idiot. Veronica: Are you telling me you never thought Oh my birthday is on Halloween. Maybe I could be a witch? Siobhan: LOL No. Penny: Bullshit Siobhan: Eh? Penny: Every girl our age that laid eyes on a TV growing up at some point thought she could be a witch. Veronica: True Penny: I mean Justin Timberlake in your closet. Saving the world every week and looking hot doin in? Penny: Come on Siobhan: Lol Penny don’t pass out. Penny: Whatever Vonnie ijs. If I could live in a bomb ass Victorian instead of my current shitty apartment and blow shit up. I’m down. Veronica: ANYWHOOZLE Veronica: In all seriousness. Happy B-day Von. I still love your non-magic havin ass. Penny: I guess I do too Penny: Speakin of love. We getting together soon? I miss you nerds. Siobhan: Right on, love you guys too Siobhan: I agree. We should make it happen soon. Veronica: Talk about it in the morning? Penny: Sure Siobhan: Sure. Everything should be cooled off enough anyway. I should go pass out. Veronica: Do the spell. See if it works Siobhan: Seriously Penny: If you get a man I wanna try it Siobhan: omg Veronica: Couldn’t hurt. Night! Penny: G’night! Siobhan: Love you guys

    Setting her laptop aside Siobhan took a sip from her wine glass, a festive little thing that was too big to constitute a normal serving, more goblet than glass, and sported an obligatory conical hat toting witch caught flying across the face of a full moon. She hummed, squinting dubiously at the book setting on the coffee table in front of her.      It was interesting if she had to admit anything. A touch faded and well worn. Something that probably would have been passed down along the generations had it not somehow found its way in the back of whatever thrift store Veronica liberated it from.      Setting her glass to the side, Siobhan reached out to graze cool-tipped fingers across the edges until she could dig her fingers to the split seam, wedged open by the ornate bookmark Veronica placed inside.    “Almost thirty and you’ve never been in a real relationship.” She huffed. “…couldn’t hurt.” Then ripping it off like a band-aid, she wrenched open the book. Then there is was, after a complex looking spell to bind and tagged as ‘Romani’ and before a simple seeming, non-descript incantation for peace, the ‘gift’ Veronica meant: To Call for Love.   It began as all good recipes do, with a description. A short blurb that described the spell as a combination of invocation and summoning. That both were precarious in their own right and could be even more so when forced together. That because of the inherent danger of dabbling in matters of the heart and summoning the unknown, one should be pure in their craft and sure in the work they will commit in influencing the natural currents of life and love.   “Don’t do this if you’re just lookin’ for a good time. Got it.”   She read on

                …One virgin candle to ignite desire and a waxing moon…  

   Well, she had that mulberry scented candle she lit every evening when she came home and she wasn’t all that worried about the phases of the moon. A little improvisation couldn’t hurt anyway.     Swiping the half spent, burnt candle from the side table she set it on the coffee table beside the book.   “Anoint the candle with your vaginal secretions from the bottom up.” Her face scrunched in distaste. “Well that’s not happening.” And that was that. “Conjure the image and characteristics you would desire of a perfect mate and hold them tightly in your mind’s eye.” Well that she could do with veritable ease. Had been doing it for a good while if she were being embarrassingly honest. Which is probably the very reason why Veronica had stooped to the supernatural in the first place. She winced at that.   “Goodness gracious. Let’s just get this done.”   The last of the fire diming in the hearth went unnoticed by Siobhan as she closed her eyes.   He would be strong, passionate, desperate to love her and hot with a touch of villainy to keep things interesting. Always having had a weak spot for dark hair and light eyes she was not surprised by the image that sprang to life in her head. One with a gaze the brightest of blues and a head of perfectly coiffed golden hued brunette hair. She laughed at what her mother would think. Her lips pulling up her crooked mouth. Just another black girl mixing it up with some white guy that was going to undoubtedly ruin her life in the end. Not that she blamed her mother for her opinions, not with their family history.   Not that it mattered. He wasn’t real. Just a mesh of ideas she’d put together in her head. And after a slew of bad dates…oh who was she kidding, they were all completely horrible, disappointing failures of the worst kind and she deserved this fantasy.   “As you hold onto this ideal gaze into the flame and repeat the incantation three times. Each time with more conviction than the last:

                      During this dark witching hour                       I call upon the witch’s power                      Take this description near to thee                       And bring my heart’s desire to me”

     She repeated the words and each time with more determination. Staring deep into the blue of the flame. Caught in its hypnotizing sway. Half wishing that it could all be real. As if to prove itself the candle flickered and blew out. Severing the thrall its dance dragged her into.      “What in the world?” Curious and confused, Siobhan leaned forward. There was no breeze from an open window. No air from the A/C. She had not touched the flame or moved near it.       Her heart raced wildly in her chest. Blood thrumming in her ears. What now? Then as the world around her became still and quiet the flame flickered back to life and a sound crash came from behind her.      She flinched with a hard yelp, spilling the wine in her lap.   “God damn it Pogue!” A haughty meow came from the kitchen. That cat was going to be the death of her. Sucking her teeth, she wiped at her lap. It was useless, the wine was going to stain. Sighing, she carefully moved to stand.     Setting her glass atop the coffee table with a little more force than she meant the stem snapped. The broken glass slicing into her palm. She hissed a curse, cradling her bleeding hand. Completely engrossed, the few drops of blood that sizzled on the newly lit candle and the flickering flame that held strong went unnoticed.

3:30 AM

  Wrapped in the snuggliest blanket burrito known to man  Siobhan snuggled deeper into its warmth. A sigh of con-- "Oh fuck!" he eyes snapped open. She forgot the chili on the stove. She screwed them shut. "Whatever." The embers in the ash heap, the leftovers, the mess of glass and wine, they'd be alright 'til morning.   If the window in her living room cracked open just a bit, well…she was one the fourth floor, that would be fine too.

5:45 AM 

  Siobhan groaned. Unsure of what it was that woke her in the middle of her beloved REM. Whatever it was, though, it left her buzzed and when one wanted nothing more than to sleep, to feel electrified from skin to boney center was the last thing desired.   Fortunately for her she knew her body, even in her sleep inebriated state and the best, sure-fire sleep remedy she had up her sleeve was one good orgasm.   She’d rub one out like a pro and pass right the hell back out.     Her eyes slipped shut. Fingers slipping into the juncture of her thighs to find the nubbin waiting just there. She wasn’t ready, not in the slightest. But she didn’t have to be. Her imagination was solid and just the idea of what would bit sitting at the end of the other side of the rainbow was enough to make her flutter. Dry, wet, it wouldn’t take long either way.   She thought back on the face she created of her perfect man. Imagined how his body would look. How it would feel against hers. How warm he would be.   …How beautiful his hard cock would look jutting up from his lap. Looking like an offering sitting relaxed on her couch. Waiting for her to take the initiative, to come sat astride his lap. The next she knew, he was moving against her, around her, inside her. His words whispered hotly against her ear, deep and desperate and harsh, “Fuck –yea. That’s it. Wanna feel you come on my cock.”   Oh! All right brain we’re just jumping right into the thick of it then. Which that was just fine, she didn’t need to build up just the release and there was nothing that was going to get her there faster than the desire to beat her partner to the finish line. To give him what he begged for and to take everything he offered.   Her skin turned hot to the touch, burning beneath the blankets, her breath devolved into short bursts pushed out by the rapid beat of her heart. A fresh rush of arousal surged forth to slick her way around the engorging nub.   She imagined large hands clinging desperately to each cheek of her ass, thick fingers dinging in deep enough to leave bruises. “I’m gonna come.” His voice brought to a reedy whine by her ministrations. He wrenched her closer. “F-fuck. Gonna come in you.” He could. That was fine too. Because even if he did, even if he pled for her to slow down, to give him a respite from his oversensitivity, she would keep riding until she finished. She would take and take until there was nothing left. Ring him out until he was a goddamned husk if it came to it.   When she came it was with a seize that took her whole body and to the idea of a pathetic sounding whine coming from the barrel of a finely sculpted chest.   “Goddamn. Well that was fuckin’ new,” she whispered to the darkness of her room.   It wasn’t long after that she was fast asleep once again.

8:00 AM 

  She shot up with a start. Restless. An unusual buzzing trapped beneath her skin. Not so unsimilar to that surprise the few hours before, if only a little more subdued. She chalked it up this time to the gruesome details of her fading dream. Goodness, had it been the wine?   Whatever the case may be, the results made her shudder in disgust all the same.   But the further away she moved from the realm of sleep the fuzzier the dream became, leaving her with mere vestiges of what happened in it. Like trying to see into the farthest reflection of a mirror in a mirror. But there was still a piece of her that knew it was something horrible. Something involving her friends.   Something…that made bile sting at the back of her throat and sent a cold shiver racing down her spine.   But…whatever it was slipped through her fingers like sand through a sieve until there was nothing more for her to grasp onto and she was left with just that feeling of that restlessness.   Christ, she needed to get out. Needed fresh air. A walk would do.   She cleared her throat against the burn and clenched her hands into tight fists. They were shaking. What the hell was wrong with her?   …Air.

9:00 AM

  The next thing she knows, Siobhan is stepping through a dinner door. The chime overhead startling her enough to bring her into the present. How had she gotten here?     “Mornin’. How many?’   Hearing the words felt strange, as if they had been the first sounds she heard since going to bed the night before.   “Uh — jut me.” She followed on suddenly unsure feet when the over-coffee’d waitress pointed to one of the empty booths seated along the windows.   “So what can I do ya for?” She wasn’t from around, that was for sure.   “Just coffee for now, thanks.”   “Cream?”   “No thanks.”   “Be just a minute then.”     What the hell was she doing here again? Old fashioned Greasy spoons, while not unheard of in a city like San Francisco, the city’s eclectic aspects catnip for hipsters interested in such hospitality throwback, weren’t places she typically found herself spending her time and she’d definitely never seen this place before.   But that wasn’t the point. Point was…well… what the hell, she couldn’t remember. Her mind was slipping and sliding, this way and that, racing in some thoughts, sluggish in others. Tugging in all opposing directions. Almost as is if it was actively working against her. Keeping her distracted.   “There ya are hun.” The waitress returned, shocking her out of her inevitable spiral. “Did you get a chance to look over the menu?”   “Sorry.” Siobhan cleared her throat, embarrassed. “I haven’t even looked.”   “Well that’s alright. Take your time. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”     Siobhan returned her sweet smile with and uneasy one before she flitted off to another table.   “Try the French toast. It’s pretty good here.” His voice rang clearest of all among the den of senseless chatter and Siobhan couldn’t help looking up at its source.   Oh wow, he was beautiful. She stared up at him, transfixed by eyes the deepest blue, shaded by thick, dark lashes.   He took the seat across from her. Plopping down comfortably, confident he wouldn’t be turned away.   “So, French toast?”   She grimaced, her stomach flipping at the idea of the sweet treat…or was it because of him? Holy hell, she was losing it.   “I think maybe I drank too much last night,” she confessed, unprompted and rightly confused to why she felt comfortable enough with this stranger to do so.   “Ah.” He smiled, commiserating. “Then you need the hash browns.” He took her menu, flipping it to the back, mulling over the options listed there, “Maybe with bacon, sausage, and two over-easy eggs. Sound a little more appetizing?”   “Over-easy?” Siobhan asked, admittedly a little more lost than she liked. As if she just couldn’t keep up. What the hell is going on?   “Sunny side up. Goes good with toast. It’ll help with your uneasy stomach.” Then the stranger smiled, and it was like a punch to the gut. Everything about him grew clear as if he existed superimposed on the world around them. The most prominent thing to exist in the hazy mess of people around them. And in that moment, she knew him. Those blues eyes were familiar, that sculpted collar and thick neck revealed by the three open buttons of his soft looking Henley…familiar.   “Holy shit,” she breathed. It worked.   “I’ll take that as a yes.”

9:30 AM

  They chatted through breakfast and into a late morning dessert… “This place has the best New York Cheesecake in town.”… and if she was so caught up in it that she didn’t notice that she’s missed several calls well…enough had been missed so far, what’s one more drop in a pail full of water?

5:00 PM

  After a reluctant goodbye and a date planned for later that evening Siobhan finally put the leftover chili into the refrigerator and cleaned out the fireplace. The restless feeling suddenly dissipates and the exhaustion that had been lurking around the edges finally takes its toll. She laid back along the couch, happy to take advantage of a few winks, and before she knew it, she was sound asleep.

6:45 PM

  Unprovoked, Siobhan leapt into consciousness, cursing with a quick glance to the time. She was supposed to meet Him in fifteen minutes. There was no way she would make in on time.   In her haste she tripped over Pogue, the cat screeched, and she went tumbling into the coffee table.   Pressing her hand tight against her stinging bicep she was sure that when she lifted her hand, she would pull back blood.   “Fucking shit! Goddamnit Pogue.” She couldn’t go like this.   Then, as is the way of things, her phone started buzzing, rattling persistently against her breakfast bar. The name flashing across the screen, one she couldn’t remember adding to her contacts. She answered anyway.   “Hey! I was just calling to see if you wanted to try this Irish pub I found instead of going to the Mexican place we were talking about earlier.”   “Peter?” she asked, needing the confirmation. When had they even exchanged numbers? She shook her head against the errant unease creeping up on her. “Oh my goodness, your timing is incredible. I was just going to call you.”   “You’re not canceling on me are you?” He chuckled into the phone, a suave sound that made her forget any possible blooming discomfort. She smiled at it.     “No! I mean, I was going to ask if you wanted to just hang out at my place tonight. But if you’re dead set on that pub—“   “No-no. I’d be happy to spend time with you anywhere. Just text me your address and I’ll be there soon as I can.”     “Great. I’ll be here.” I’ll be here? What the hell? Where the hell else are you going to be? “See you in a bit,” she blurted, fumbling to hang up before she said anything else embarrassing. Good job you awkward ass. She looked down to her cat, “At least he was kind enough not to laugh.”

 7:30 PM

  Pogue has never been of the friendly sort. Not even towards Siobhan, the hand that feeds him, no matter how reluctantly at times. Siobhan and Pogue are enemies caged in an apartment that is not big enough for the both of them. Their war a near daily one beginning with a cat slap to the face and a reciprocated angry toss worthy of a football quarterback.   While other smarter, more humane people with a fully developed sense of self preservation would have called it quits long ago, the two had instead come to an understanding that one day one of them would wake up dead and when push came to shove, both of them were fine with that dysfunctional set up.   That being said, when it came to strangers, Pogue rarely paid them the time of day. Would have lazed about the apartment, being his usual blaze self, preferring to pretend that whoever that cretin to deign to exist in his space simply didn’t exist at all. So when Pogue hisses something fierce, bats at the air, his hair standing on end, before shooting off as if the hounds of hell are on his tail leaves Siobhan standing flabbergasted in her doorway where Peter waited patiently to be allowed in.   “I’m sorry about that,” she mumbled. “That was weird, even for him.”   Peter shrugged it off, a half smile tugging at his lips. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Some cats just don’t like me.  Call it my personal curse.” His eyes flickered to the bandage on her arm when she shifted uncomfortably. “What happened? You bleeding?”   “It’s nothing.” She shied away, trying to hide in her invitation.   Peter asked nothing more about it after that. In fact, he wouldn’t say much at all for the rest of the night. But Siobhan wouldn’t judge. Wouldn’t think on it at all really.   It could have been the way he touched her, a gentle graze against her skin. Or the way he looked at her, with hunger lurking just beneath the surface. Being able to pinpoint what it could have been exactly was of little consequence in the grand scheme of all things.   All she knew…all she needed to know…all that mattered was his mouth on hers. Was how it felt when searching hands tugged impatiently at the hem of her dress; groping, desperate, and moving with a single purpose: to bring her to the height of pleasure and hurl her over the cliff.   She never thought she would be the type. One to fall in bed –couch…semantics…whatever—with a veritable stranger. The kind so willing to be devoured. Such a severe about face from who she knew herself to be.   The change was exhilarating, and she lost herself in it…him. In that mix of pleasure and the right side of pain he coaxed from her. Burning her from the inside out. Lost herself in his breath, his moans, his grunts, his praise, and everything else that was him.   It was dangerous. She couldn’t bring herself to care.   She groaned, a sound birthed from deep in the hollow of her chest at the press of his hand against her throat. His thumb pulling roughly at her bottom lip. Tilting her head back. Arching her spine. His grip tightening with each forceful thrust of his hips.   For a moment she thought she might die as he filled her overwhelmed by the feeling of being both empty and full.   Then came the swell, building from the tips of her fingers and toes to converge at her center and form the tightest of knots until it was strained to its limit and shattered into a billion pieces. The world around her falling to white noise.  

11:59 PM

  The fire is dead. The food is still out. The wine she poured, spilled against the white carpet in the living room. Siobhan remembers these things for little more than a second during the five minutes of lucidity wherein she also notices that she’s alone. Five minutes of a flash of worry and oppressive insecurity fighting to rear its ugly head.   But then, he was slipping back beneath the blankets with her and where he when, why it was long enough for the sheets to turn cold, none of it mattered. And when he started touching her, his hands warm against her skin, God, nothing else outside of him mattered and in that moment,  she wasn’t sure she could ever be convinced that anything would again. It made it so easy to ignore the fact that his hands were wet and that the room suddenly smelled more of copper than sex. To instead, bury herself deeper into his warmth.   “I’ve never met anyone like you before,” she whispered into his mouth.    She felt him smile against her when he said, “I’m one of a kind.”  

  That he was. Wouldn’t her friends be proud.

  Happy Birthday to me.

[rorykillmore]

BELATED BIRTHDAY FIC FOR @ravenswood. may has been an anxiety-ridden disaster for me and i’ve just started crawling out of a writing slump BUT IT’S FINALLY HERE. she requested a god squad fic and i kind of... ran with that in the wackiest way possible and threw them in with the future hypothetical denny!guardians.

enjoy this little glimpse of their space roadtrip?? i had to narrow the focus on the main thematic elements since there were so many little tangent interactions i could have gone off on but hopefully you enjoy what i decided to do with it.

happy late birthday friend!! hope this improves your night as you are constantly improving my life <3

Family, in Heather’s mind, has always been ill-defined and hard to grasp. Once it had been a mother who’d hated and hated, no matter how hard Heather (not Heather, then) had tried to be good enough to love.  Once it had been paintings other kids had drawn, mothers and fathers and siblings all with smiles on their faces, and a little brown dog and a white picket fence.  

Later it had been something else. Not as whole and perfect as she’d imagined in some of her fantastical dreams (the kind that never came to life), but somehow managing to be happy. Worth holding onto (until she couldn’t any longer). A dad who had ruffled her hair and bandaged her scraped knees and told her he’d loved her in a way she knew he meant.

He’s gone now. Heather remembers thinking, once she actually had the capacity to think -- well, this is it. It was nice while it lasted. I’m glad I had it for awhile.

Probably never again, though. 

She’s already decided to keep moving forward, out of spite if nothing else.

‘Moving forward’, it turns out, isn’t as inspirational as it sounds. It’s a vague thing people say when they don’t want to brood about something forever (which, fair enough). It’s misleading, in Heather’s opinion. ‘Moving forward’ makes it sound like there’s only one direction to go in, when in reality, there are about a thousand -- each as wild and unpredictable as the next.

And she’s not sure it gets much more unpredictable than ‘stuck in a parallel dimension, palling around with an anthropomorphic fox and a paranormal investigator and his psychic wife’.

“Did you pack toothpaste?” Volle calls back to her, and Heather’s lips twitch.

Not that she’s complaining, really.

“Got it covered!” she calls back, then glances at Ed where he’s walking alongside her.  “Can you even use toothpaste in space?”

Ed gives her a baffled, goodnatured shrug. “Don’t look at me. I’m from not even ten years after the first moon landing, you know.”

This, Heather has decided, is wilder than anything that’s happened to them so far. And that’s saying something.

Just ahead of them looms the Milano. An actual spaceship! It belongs to someone calling himself Starlord, apparently, although Heather still isn’t entirely sure... who he is or how they’re supposed to know him.

Apparently Ed is friends with a banshee and a talking raccoon, both of which are facts which should not surprise her in the slightest. Now, the fact that said banshee and raccoon have fallen in with a group of space travelers -- who apparently need their help? That’s enough to jar her, a little (not that she’s not making every effort not to appear jarred -- or excited). And she’d thought she’d gotten used to this place.

“God, you’re so old,” she tells Ed with a playful roll of her eyes, and he looks mockingly offended. “So... where are we going, again?”

It’s Lorraine who answers her from Ed’s other side, soft and thoughtful, like absolutely none of this is bizarre in the slightest.  “Apparently there’s a governing party experiencing some pretty nasty hauntings in the... Andromeda galaxy.” Her brow furrows slightly, and Heather mirrors her expression. The Andromeda galaxy. Isn’t that kind of far away?

Maybe not for a futuristic spaceship, she concedes silently.

“Great. So we’re looking at space ghosts.” If she asks how different they could be from Earth ghosts, she’ll probably jinx it. “Why not, right?”

“It would be cruel to turn them away if there’s something we can do to help,” Volle points out as they finally catch up with him. He flicks an ear towards the ship, which is now looming directly overhead. “Although, I must admit I’m... entirely unfamiliar with vessels of this nature.”

“You aren’t the only one, if that makes you feel any better,” Ed notes wryly.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared.” This is a new voice.  Heather turns to see...

Yep, that’s the talking raccoon.

All... three feet of him, or so.

Waiting for them just inside the ship.

“C’mon. You know the odds of dyin’ in one of these are actually lower than dyin’ in a traffic accident.” A pause follows that statement. Then a snicker. “I completely pulled that out of my ass.”

Heather turns in unison with Volle to stare at Ed, just kind of -- seriously? These are your other friends? Lorraine, however, keeps a straight face.

“Hello, Rocket,” she greets him pleasantly.

Rocket twitches his ears at her. “Yeah. Hey. These your tagalongs?” His gaze falls on Heather and Volle. Heather opens her mouth to say something in retort, but Lorraine beats him to it.

“Yes. Heather Mason and Lord Vinton, respectively.” 

Volle’s title seems to vaguely piss Rocket off, because he stares directly at him. “And what the hell are you supposed to be?”

Heather tries to hide a smirk at Volle’s bemused expression.  “Er. Delighted to meet you,” he answers, his tone bordering on questioning. Rocket grunts at that, unamused by the quip but unable or unwilling to come up with a response, and turns around.

“You assholes are late enough as it is. C’mon, we’re about to take off,” he tells them, leading the way into the depths of the ship without looking back. Out of the corner of her eye, Heather catches Ed and Lorraine exchanging amused look, as if they’ve never been referred to as ‘you assholes’ in their lives (well -- maybe not to their faces, she thinks playfully).

Predictably, Volle takes point. She’s noticed that he likes to do that, when braving a new situation -- though depending on the danger level present, Ed sometimes beats him to it. For Heather’s own part, she’s usually content to hang in the back and watch the chaos unfold. She figures she’s earned it.

But with surprisingly little fanfare, considering they’re walking onto a fucking spaceship, they file on board -- Volle, then Ed and Lorraine walking arm and arm (ugh), then Heather herself bringing up the near. By sheer principle of teenage apathy combined with the fact that Rocket doesn’t strike her as the type to need an ego boost, she tries not to look too impressed.

But... alright. It is pretty cool.

“Hope this thing has seatbelts,” Ed jokes goodnaturedly, and Heather rolls her eyes with an unmistakable tinge of affection. If this is going to happen, she supposes, she couldn’t have picked a better group of losers to come along for the ride.

Within the first several hours, the group of losers expands considerably.

Heather, for one, has absolutely no idea how either Ed or Lorraine managed to become friends with someone like Siobhan Smythe, but it’s happened. It’s a thing. When she’s not trading insults with the other Guardians, she occasionally drops by to hang out with them (well, not them -- just Ed and Lorraine, basically, when they’re being subtle enough about their heterosexuality for them to tolerate).

The captain’s name is Peter Quill, and he and Ed share a disturbingly similar taste in music (Heather needs them to be separated, like, yesterday).  Lorraine gets on startlingly well with Gamora (who, even on a good day, looks like she’d happily kill a man -- exactly the sort of person Lorraine always wins over), and Volle seems to be having a little too much fun with Drax.

For her own part, she likes to flit around -- she’s cautious of getting too buddy-buddy with any of her new shipmates (caution, she’s found, is one of the hardest things to unlearn), but Rocket is easy enough to banter with. Every so often, Quill manages to remind her of Harry (they both share an affinity for the same weird A-ha song), and Mantis fascinates her in a way she can’t quite admit. She sees her and Lorraine talking, every now and again, and always finds herself tempted to go and join them.

She hasn’t, just yet.

“You know the worst thing to come of all of this,” Volle says to her one day with a mischievous swish of his tail. “Is that it seems you may have to endure the presence of a new baby brother.”

Heather follows his gaze to where Groot is toddling out to meet the Warrens with an eager familiarity that’s been accumulated over the initial duration of their trip. Both Ed and Lorraine are looking suspiciously misty-eyed.

Heather rolls her eyes, trying not to be phased by his fazing. “They can adopt all the kids they want, but I think Rocket has dibs on that one. Besides, I’m a little too old for that kind of thing.”

Volle gives her a lengthy, sideways look, but doesn’t say anything. Heather decides not to linger on it.

She tries not to, anyway.

“Hey, guys?” The next evening (she assumes it’s evening, at least) Quill pokes his head into their cabin. “We’re gonna be landing in a few hours, so uh. Make sure you like... rest up, or whatever. Not to sound too much like a dad.”

He’s probably one of the people least at risk for that here, Heather reflects dryly, but she shrugs and sets down her hand of cards. Across from her, Volle and Rocket do the same.

“Well, guess I’m out.” Rocket gets to his feet and shoots a smug look at Volle. “Wouldn’t wanna tread on the royal curfew. I was winning, anyway.”

Volle looks at him, straight-faced. “I’ll consider myself spared.”

Rocket chooses not to acknowledge the teasing sarcasm edging that statement, turning for the door. Heather catches Lorraine hiding a smile behind the book she’s reading.

“Where’s Ed?” Heather asks, starting to clean up.

“I think he just went to stretch his legs.” Lorraine glances at her briefly. “I’m sure he’ll be back before too long. Even Ed’s okay at keeping a decent sleep schedule, when it really counts.”

Yeah, Heather thinks dryly, when you’re around. That little quip goes unsaid, though -- however she might joke about it inwardly, she’d never betray any of the quiet vulnerabilities that manifested in Ed during the period of time when Lorraine wasn’t around. It’s not a trust thing -- she just gets the feeling Ed wouldn’t want her to.

 “Maybe I’ll go track him down,” she says aloud, rising to her feet. Lorraine smiles at her.  

“Good idea. Tell him if he takes too long, I’m coming out there.”

“Is that supposed to be a deterrent?” asks Volle wryly, and Heather snorts, turning for the door and leaving them to their playful banter.

Not that they’ve been traveling on it for a comparatively long time, but she doesn’t think she’s ever seen the Milano so quiet. It’s a rare event that everyone’s sleeping patterns align that perfectly, but Heather guesses that if the others aren’t all asleep, they’ve stowed away to make final preparations for their landing.

She finds Ed in the bridge, of all places, hands in his pockets.

“Thank god Quill left his ship in the hands of such an experienced pilot,” she quips, announcing herself. Ed only looks slightly startled as he turns to face her, giving her a smile that mirrors Lorraine’s in warmth and affection (did they practice that together, Heather occasionally wonders, or are they just naturally like that?).

“They send you out looking for me?” he guesses.

She shrugs teasingly. “I decided on my own that you were taking too long.” It turns her a chuckle.

“I was just -- watching the stars, for awhile,” he explains, gesturing. “It might sound cheesy, but it’s easy to get lost in thought up here.”

Pretty much everything Ed ever says sounds cheesy, but Heather neglects to point that out less out of tact and more because she’s worried she’ll make it sound too fond. “It’s not often that it’s quiet enough to, either,” she points out instead.

“Very true.”

There’s a pause. She hesitates.  “Seriously, though, if you wanna be alone, I can --”

“Oh -- no, don’t worry about it.”  Ed sounds genuine enough that Heather relaxes. “I didn’t come up here to brood, I promise. Just to think.”

She smiles a little at the goodnatured edge to his tone, and slowly steps up alongside him. She can see how easy it would be to get lost in those stars. They’re infinite in a way that’s more than a little daunting. “What were you... thinking about?”

There’s a short pause before he answers. “Honestly? That I never expected my life would turn out like this.”  He glances at her, smiling still.  “Pretty crazy, huh?”

“Even by our standards,” Heather grumbles in agreement, and then finds herself hesitating. “I know that, uh. You and Lorraine left a lot behind. ...Must be hard.”

“I can’t really imagine it’s easy for most people,” Ed replies, and Heather doesn’t tell him how little she had to leave.  She watches as his expression softens.  “But, y’know, we’ve found a lot too.”

She finds she doesn’t really know what to say to that. She folds her arms.  “Quite a ragtag crew you’ve assembled. Rocket and Siobhan are even weirder than we are, and that’s saying something.”  When that gets a proper laugh out of him, she can’t help but smile.

“Yeah,” Ed agrees amicably. “Yeah, I... honestly still can’t quite tell you how that one happened.”

They both fall silent for a moment, reflecting. It’s a good question. How did any of this happen?

She doesn’t have to question whether or not she’s glad it did.

“Sometimes I,” she starts, voice faltering uncharacteristically. Ed waits patiently for her to finish. “Sometimes I’m... scared. Of holding on to something else.”

She doesn’t explain what she means. He doesn’t ask.

After a moment, though, she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We’re not going anywhere,” he tells her, empathetic as ever. “Not if we can help it, anyway. Wait until you’re ready.”

Something in her chest tightens, and she nods.

When they finally land, Heather’s pretty sure no one’s even worried about the space ghosts anymore -- those of them who aren’t used to space travel, at least, are just happy to hit solid ground and fresh air again.

“So what’s the plan, here?” Rocket asks, flicking his ears as he glances back at them. Heather almost doesn’t hear him, briefly distracted by the vibrant colors they’re suddenly surrounded by, the distinctly alien city looming in the distance. Realizing he’s looking to the Warrens for an answer, though, she casts an expectant glance their way. They’re keeping close to each other, fingers entwined -- Lorraine murmuring something unintelligible in Ed’s ear as they gaze out at the scene stretching before them.

Siobhan clears her throat very pointedly.  “Can you punch a space ghost?” she calls.

“That is a question I would like answered, as well,” Drax puts in grimly. He frowns at the look Gamora gives him.  “It would make things much simpler. Rocket says that these people whisper to ghosts. I do not see how such dulcet tones --”

He breaks off as Rocket starts snickering, and Lorraine looks over.

“Oh -- no, Drax. That’s not quite how it works.” She pauses, and she and Ed reluctantly disentwine. Heather can practically feel everyone present breathing an inward sigh of relief. 

“Before we even think about talking to any spirits, we’ll need to speak with the people experiencing the hauntings,” Ed puts in. “Considering that we’re also gonna need to pick up a bit of culture here, that may be a more... thorough process than usual.”

“I am Groot!”

Rocket wrinkles his nose. “What do you mean, snakes began manifesting in your house physically? When did we see any snakes?” 

Heather hurriedly looks away, deciding now isn’t a good time to extrapolate on Groot’s introduction to Youtube. “So, we should... plan to stay here a little while, then.”

“Not too long,” Ed promises, glancing around at the group. “Maybe a couple more days, though. Can we all spare that much?”

“No one has made any effort to engage me socially!” Mantis chirps. There’s an awkward pause, and Heather hears Siobhan murmur ‘shocker’.  Mantis hesitates, and then amends slightly, “Recently, I mean. I can stay as long as you would like.”

“We’ve all cleared our schedules,” Peter confirms.

“We’d always planned for a week or so away from home, anyway.” Volle gives them an easy smile.  “I’m sure we won’t be missed.”

It seems to be settled. Today, Heather reflects, this is what moving forward looks like. Parading off onto an unknown planet to face off against supernatural, extraterrestrial entities with a bunch of space misfits.

She can’t believe she thought her life was weird before.

But as she falls into her usual place beside Volle, this time walking just a little ways ahead of Ed and Lorraine (let them hold hands in peace, they’ve mutually decided), she can’t help but begin to feel content.

I love you, Dad,  she thinks, heartfelt and aching and resolved.  I wish you were here.

She’ll always hold onto that. To him.

But he’d be proud of her for wanting to reach out and hold on to something else.

[leighleighpresents-blog]

In Studio with Brecik

In studio with Brecik and his producer Tony aka SonicBoy in Camberwell.

GenQ: It’s been at least 3 years since we caught up last … you’d just finished performing at GayAz, and had released I Can’t Stand The Rain.  Your sound has certainly changed since then!

B:  Absolutely!

GenQ: Have your influences changed much?

B: Totally.  Back then, it was all about 70’s music, and I was into the whole disco sort of thing, hence I Can’t Stand The Rain and Daddy Cool, even Passion, though that was the 90’s.  Madonna’s still a big influence, she always is.  That’s not really because of her music, as such, it’s more because of who she is, the way she changes, her styles, her shows … so she’s still there.  Then you have people like Lady GaGa, who I think is just phenomenal, she’s probably one of the main ones now.  It was all about Rogue Traders really.  I went through the whole Greek, Anna Vissi phase after GayAz, and that was good, but there were just some things that didn’t work, didn’t translate properly and was just a sound that wouldn’t ever really take off here, so we had to can all that, and I just always had this thing for rock and dance music together, so that’s what I wanted to blend.  When I first heard Rogue Traders, I was just like “Fuck!  This is fantastic, this is what I want to do, this sound”.  I think I probably missed it a bit, I was a bit too slow, but now, I think I’ve got a pretty good album.  Guitars are a pretty big part of it, and Brecik has changed as well, it’s no longer just me, there’s also Miss K and Daniel, and it just wouldn’t be the same without them.  However, saying that, it’s Miss K’s last gig with me on Wednesday 23rd, as she’s moving overseas.  It’d be good to just have Dan and I though, cos we can be a bit rougher, a bit tougher, take it to another place, but I’ll still be looking out for another chick to replace Miss K, someone who has a few extra things that Miss K didn’t have.  But yeah, major influences now are Lady GaGa and Rogue Traders, and Madonna but more for her showmanship and her personality.

GenQ: With what you said about “roughing it up”, that’ll be taking you in a bit of a different direction …

B: Yeah, it’s funny, cos you never realize how many different people keep pushing you and pulling you in different directions, and it’s like “well, what happened to me just doing what I want to do?”, but everyone’s got their opinion.  Tony’s really good, he’s like “well fucking just do it, and whatever, and we’ll get it out”, but yeah, by “roughing it up”, what I mean is like, not so clean cut, maybe not shaving every day, messier hair, not so polished.  Dan’s got that, he’s a rock guy, whereas I’m a little more pop orientated, so … I’m still like Rick Astley, so …

T: You’re edgier than Rick Astley …

B: Oh!  Wendy James!  Remember Wendy James from Transvision Vamp?  Well, Wendy and I have built up quite a relationship!  She’s just an insane amount of inspiration, cos she’s got that whole rock … oh shit, now I’m remembering I’ve got heaps of inspirations!  I sent her a message on Myspace because I covered Baby I Don’t Care, which is on the Switch Over To Me EP, and she was playing in Melbourne, so I just sent her a message and said “I’ve done this cover and would love for you to hear it” and she sent me back a message saying “come to my gig, here’s your tickets, come see me in the DJ box”, so I went and saw her.  She was only DJ-ing, she wasn’t actually singing, but all these people kept annoying her, and I was like “I don’t want to go up there and bug her”, but I did end up going up there, and she’s like “oh my fucking god, where have you been?  You were supposed to come up here and talk to me for ages” and I just got along with her straight away.  She has sent me some really good emails just to keep me motivated, and to stay focused.  She thinks I’ve got something, and that makes me feel so freaking unbelievable.  She was always that rock chick back in the 80’s, and she’s tough.  Her new band, Racine, is just unbelievable and is just tough.  Siobhan Fahey from Bananarama and Shakespear’s Sister, I’ve been talking to her on Facebook, and she really likes my version of her song Run Silent, which is so good to hear.  When you cover a song, and the original artist loves it … she said she was so interested to hear that someone had taken it and brought it to today and done what they wanted to do to it.  So yeah, I’ve got 3 of her songs on the album, Pulsatron (which Tony produced), Run Silent and Heroine are all Siobhan Fahey songs.

With Wendy, she’s just a fantastic person, there’s just no arrogance, which is the sort of person I like to be around.  I’m not into people with these fucked-up attitudes of themselves and egos … I don’t like ego at all.  Maybe I might have had that a few years ago, but I don’t have that at all anymore, I just have confidence now.  Confidence gets misconstrued with arrogance all the time, but I’m not arrogant at all.  I’m not full of myself, haha!

GenQ: With Skitzofrenik, how long did that take to record?

B: Way too long, haha!  How long have we been working on it for?

T: Well, I’ve known you for two years, so …

B: I think it’s about 3 years or so.  The first track I recorded was the last track, Darkness In Your Eyes, which is a ballad, never done a ballad before.  It’s about my grandpa.  It’s quite emotional, especially for me, dealing with him passing away from cancer, and I think people are connecting with that.  I don’t know if I can sing it live, cos I’ll probably cry, and I don’t want to do that cos it’s hard to sing and cry at the same time.  That’s the song I started with, and I’d say that was about three years ago now, and I’ve recorded with 3 different producers, though you can’t tell from the sound.  There’s Tony, there’s Stuart who has produced for The Veronicas, and Sam who is the producer for Kisschasy, so he’s more band orientated, as well as for Anthony Defina.  I kick Anthony’s arse, and you can put that on there, haha!  So yeah, three different producers.  To me, it’s a really good first album, it’s solid, all the tracks mean something to me, I co-wrote over 50% of the tracks, so they have a lot to do with relationships … some weren’t the best relationships, so they gave me a lot of inspiration for the tracks.  The covers … I always get told not to do covers, and I don’t really want to be doing covers all the time, but there are some that mean a lot to me, and I really want to do them.  Run Silent was one of them, and I remember when the song came out, and what my life was like back then, and it meant a lot to me.  The lyrics are so deep, and it just resonates.  It’s a slower track too, not as pumped up as the others, so that means a lot.  I also love it that Miss K is doing those really high parts that Marcella (Detroit, from Shakespear’s Sister) used to do, and she nails them every time, so it’s great.   Heroine’s just an energy blast, and we usually start every show with that, cos it gets people going “fuck, what is this?”  People don’t know if we’re singing about the drug, or a female, so people can just make up their own mind, it can be whatever they want it to be.  Pulsatron – about a chick and a vibrator … I love a good song about a vibrator!!!  But whenever I do a cover, I don’t want to do is a cover of a song that was insanely huge, because the last thing I want is to be compared to the original, so there’s some singers you don’t touch.  A lot of singers write songs, and don’t use them, put them on the shelves, and never get used.  I’ve got one that Madonna’s written, it’s called Like A Flower, and it’s a ballad, and we’re gonna record that for an album that’s going to be released in February/March 2010, according to the label.  Obviously no one’s going to associate that with Madonna, and in the credits, hopefully I’ll be able to put her surname as well so people may not realize it’s her.  I’m really excited about that.  I want to go into the slower stuff.

Before I forget, getting back to what Wendy said to me, I forwarded one of her emails to my manager and whenever I start feeling down and feel like giving up, he sends it to me and he’s like “remember what Miss James told you?”, and that always gets me motivated again.

With the album, it’s really upbeat from go to wo, and Joan Jett is on there.  That was actually written by a Melbourne band who I became quite good friends with, and I heard them sing it, and they didn’t like it for themselves – now they sing it every frigging time! – and they always say something about me, like “this was actually our song first, blah blah blah” and I’m just like “yeah fuck you”, haha!  National Airlines is their name, great band, that real electro, quirky, 80’s band.  You cannot go to one of their gigs and sit still.  The first time I saw them was just in a back shed somewhere performing to their friends, and they played Joan Jett, and that chorus just grabbed me, it resonated.  A lot of people are like “are you singing about a chick?” and I’m like “well, yeah I am, but have you listened to the lyrics?”  The song is basically … I’m tired of all these Britney Spears type singers, and the 16yo Miley Cyrus fuckers, and it’s more about having those tough … like Joan Jett and Suzi Quatro.  They were tough, and where are those tough singers now?  There aren’t any.  Pat Benetar, she was tough too.  They’re not plastic or anything.  There’s none of that shit with those singers.  

GQ:  What’s your favourite song to do live?

B:  Joan Jett is so much fun, cos it’s got so much energy, I find it really hard to stand still onstage, I’m always jumping and everything.  Touch Me, the second single, is always fun.  We’ve got this really cool little dance move that, you know, when I can remember it, I do it, haha!  I love starting my shows with Heroine.  It’s full-on straight away.  Pulsatron, I fucking love doing Pulsatron!  It’s such a good song, and so catchy, and so tongue-in-cheek.  I mean, what the fuck is a pulsatron?  Most people are like, I don’t know … but it’s a vibrator!  I love doing Run Silent with Miss K, and I’m normally fucked by the time we do that, so it’s good just to bring it back a bit.  But yeah, Touch Me, Pulsatron and Joan Jett are probably my most favourite, because they’re high-energy ones where you just let loose.  There was a time at Fair Day 2 years ago, where we did an awesome cover of Sweet Dreams, and we got it right, it worked.  It’s one of those songs where you’re always like “mmm … I dunno about that”, but the version we did, it just worked.  Miss K actually fell over on stage in that one too, haha!  The stage had like little holes in it, and she was in heels, so …

GQ:  What song gets the best crowd reaction?  You already know my favourite song …

B:  Oh, Who Cares About Love?  Yeah … it’s catchy, and it’s better live.  Maybe we should do that at Priscilla’s … I like Priscilla’s a lot … obviously, because I have personal attachments to the place … but I’m excited to sing there.  When it was Diva, I used to sing there a lot, like every weekend, and the sound system sucked then.  It’s much better now, the whole set-up is really good.  I’m really looking forward to it.  It’s going to be sad, because it’s Miss K’s last gig, but it’s going to be a big night.  The best thing about that place is it’s not overly huge, so it’s nice and cozy.

GQ:  What else is coming up for Brecik?

B:  I’m doing a track with Sam from Melodic Music, it’s a cover of a 70’s song.  I probably can’t go into it a lot right now, but it’s going to be pretty big.  It might not be under the Brecik banner, it might be under another name, but I’m pretty excited about that.  To me, though, doing live shows is what it’s all about, I love singing live.  I mean, singing in a studio is fun, and recording is fun, but when you’re actually out there singing live in front of people, and you’re feeding off their energy, it’s amazing.  But yeah, at the moment, we’re still building my Myspace, and getting more numbers.  The album will be on iTunes soon.  Joan Jett is already on iTunes, Switch Over To Me will be going on there too.  Joan Jett, and even the b-side, My Frequency, are doing well on iTunes, so that’s great!  It’s one of those songs where, listening to it on the cd, you might be like “oh, yeah, it’s ok”, but then live, you’re like “wow!”.  I mean, that’s why it’s a b-side.  I hate spending too much time on b-sides, I’d rather just, you know, get it done and not waste time on it, but, at the same time, you do want it to be good.

GQ:  True.  Once all your music takes off, would you take after other singers and make the change to movies?

B:  I don’t know … I mean, I used to act in all the school plays, I always had a lead role.  Actually , I was good!  Oh shit, here we go … EGO!  Haha!  Um, look, I would, I would love … I’m so into The Hills, and I would LOVE to be followed around by a video camera 24-hours a day, and someone make a show of everything I do.  I don’t think I’m boring.

GQ:  Yeah, but only about … what, 2% would be allowed to make it onto air?

B:  Yeah, probably, haha!  I’m good now though, I’ve settled down.  I like that kind of reality tv.  I hate Big Brother, and Australian Idol, all that bullshit I can’t stand, but the shows like The Hills, and Laguna Beach, I love.  Survivor I hate, I can’t even stand to watch it.  So yeah, I would go into acting. Even things like Neighbours, I wouldn’t say “no” to anything.  I’m a whore, haha!

T:  We need to get you your own show.

B:  My own show?  I think so, that’s the plan, we’re working on it.  We’ll get back to you on that, haha!

GQ:  I’ll just go get my video camera and follow you around then.

B:  You do that!  As long as you’re doing it for free, it’s fine!  I mean, I don’t think I’m boring, I’ve got a lot of stuff going on at the moment.  Probably not with my job though, they might have something to say about me going to work being followed by a camera.

T:  Though if you get their logo in the shots, they might be ok.  Cross-branding, it’s always a money-maker.

B:  Well, you know, I’m who I am, trying to make it in the music industry, I’ve come out of a bad relationship, going into a really good one, all these different producers, the music, there’s lots going on.  Actually, we’ve got a doco planned to promote the album.  It’s like a megamix in two parts, and we have this storyline going on, which is basically like me going from this Euro guy going into this dark, sleazy guy who ends up electrocuting himself by shoving a knife into a power point.  It’s going to be good.  The way Miss K was going to be introduced into it is, she was going to play this nun on a street corner preaching about God and everything, and I just sort of walk past, and take one look at her, and she rips off her habit, and she’s wearing this skimpy outfit.  It’s just a really good story.  We get incarcerated … obviously when Skitzofrenik comes into it, we’re in straightjackets.  Lady GaGa did a similar thing for her album, so I thought “yep, we can do that too.”  It’ll be going up onto Youtube and Myspace and everything.  I love Myspace, I look after it all, so all the blogs and everything are me.   I think people can tell.  I get in trouble from my manager for being “too real” and everything, but fans want real, and I’m real.

GQ:  Ok, so are there any other gigs or anything coming up?

B:  I’m performing at Mardi Gras again next year, I just found out today, performing at Slide again.  The gay market has been really good to me, and, I mean, the gay scene can be really bitchy, so, for someone to work up to the level that I have, I think that’s really saying something.  They’ve supported me so much!

GQ:  Well, with Miss K moving overseas, you’ll be needing someone to take her place.  What are you looking for?

B:  I want a female singer who has … she doesn’t have to have the best voice, but she needs to be able to pull it off.  She also needs presence, energy … I want a sexual energy, someone who can be onstage and knows how to work it and move it.  Someone who’s happy to share the stage too.  I don’t want a diva, I just want someone who is real, and doesn’t want to be in the limelight all the time, needs to remember she’s part of a team.  I mean, I attract a certain type of person, Dan attracts a certain type of person, so the female singer will also need to attract a certain type.  I don’t like that Dan gets all the girls, I want all the girls to find me attractive as well!  They’re all like “oh my god, your guitarist is so hot!”  Fuck the guitarist, what about me?  Haha!!!!  I swear Dan picks up at every gig as well!  I mean, after we did the film clip for Touch Me, I took Dan to the Xchange, and he hones in on the only group of girls in there, and works his butt off to try to pick up one of these girls.  He didn’t, cos apparently they were all married, but I was like “you know what? You go, man!  Only you would see an opportunity and go “there we go”.”