[ it seems that way, right? with everything somehow always going on in a chaotic mess around him - whether it's because of him or indirectly caused by him without intention. but even so, his place doesn't have enough things within it to be considered messy even on the best of days ... it can't be messy if there is hardly anything to mess up. so anything like this would be noticed immediately by anyone walking in, even if it is nothing more than innocuous piece of clothing on the ground. and especially to someone observant like mitsuru, of course.
if vash's back is a mess of scars, bolts, and burns, the front is not much better when he whirls around, eyes wide behind the skewed glasses over his nose. wire cords run under his skin. his other elbow, the one not made up of glass-green metal, has a metal plate securing the joint in place. there is a terrible scar that runs along the side of his stomach, pale with age but knobby like old roots of trees.
all of this she might not even get a proper glance of, even, because after a second of absolute shock-stillness he squawks like a distressed farm bird and dives through the open doorway (thankfully) beside the kitchen.
from beyond, eleanor yowls in a displeased way at all the ruckus. ]
[ She has the good sense in a "crisis" as usual to immediately move forward to turn his stove off before she does or says anything else. The soup boiling over and causing even more of a mess wouldn't exactly help matters. Perhaps it's seeing him reacting in such a way, being so skittish that has her immediately forgetting to be shy and plugging into her usual measured, calm mindset. ]
It's my fault. I still should have knocked.
[ Regardless of what he'd told her, a person should always knock just in case. She's not sure why she had forgotten her manners to such a degree - perhaps because she tended to let her guard down around him that way.
He'd dived for the door and honestly, she finds it pretty obvious as to why. He hadn't given her long enough to scan him the entirety of his torso but plenty long enough to see the extent of the scars, the burns, the metal parts that almost seem to be holding him together in places... It's a lot. A lot to take in for anyone, to see the extent he must have been damaged over so long an existence that he's had.
Yet she doesn't see anything shameful in that.
She doesn't follow him through the doorway when she turns away from the stove top, but she does speak to him, her tone as quiet as she can allow it to be with a doorway between them. ]
Vash? I apologise, for not knocking but- [ She hesitates, wondering briefly whether she should just go, whether that would be better but- ] You don't need to hide from me. You don't need to apologise either.
[ is he apologising at the cat, or at mitsuru? probably both, as he ignores eleanor's yelling for now to dig through his closet for another shirt, grabbing one at random to shove it over his head. the soup isn't burnt, thankfully, but it was definitely about to boil over and make even more of a mess when mitsuru turns it off while vash is busy in the other room.
it is not long, before there's a sound of shuffling footsteps behind her ... and vash appears, still sheepish and cringing, shoulders hunched forward as though with enough effort he could scrunch himself up into a little, insignificant ball of nothing. it's not his usual turtleneck, but at least the tshirt covers worst of the scars which are over his torso, and the sleeves are long enough to cover his elbows if he doesn't raise his arms too high. ]
You don't need to apologise! I'm, um ...
[ his eyes dart to the floor and up to her, before dropping down again, guiltily. embarrassed, but in a way that's more ashamed than anything else. despite all that, his brows furrowed, he still tries to laugh anyway. ]
It's my fault, for not hearing the door, so. You don't need to. I'm sorry.
[ She might be observant but it's not exactly a challenge to read his body language anyway when he returns, to sense the shame practically radiating from his being and...
He's been battered, wounded, burned, nearly torn apart and put back together again in more ways that she could have possibly imagined he'd been. Even for someone who had been around for as long as he had. Yet he's still standing despite it all and all he appears to feel for that is shame?
She doesn't let herself hesitate in closing the distance between them and reaching for his prosthetic, gripping the hand part as she speaks, ]
I meant what I said- [ She reaches for his other hand, real one this time. ] You don't have to hide. Or apologise - for any of it. Not to me.
Look at me and don't apologise to me again or I'll- [ She pauses, staring at him and suddenly just a little flustered. ]
I'll throw this shirt in the soup too. [ It comes out in a rush. It's a lame, foolish, empty threat and she immediately regrets saying such a silly, frivolous thing that is so very unlike her but she means the sentiment behind it. She means every word.
...Well, except the part about actually throwing his shirt in the soup. They both know she's too sensible for something like that. Plus that would require tugging said shirt off him somehow. ]
[ when he feels her move, he is more than half expecting mitsuru to be moving towards the door to leave; it's an awkward moment after all - seeing something as disgusting as what's usually hidden beneath the layers are exposed out in the open. he feels anxiety prickling over his skin and hangs his head lower, taking a deep breath and steeling himself to smile again - maybe make a joke of it, something like looks pretty gnarly, people call me a turtle for a reason!, or even just another sorry - when the hands come out, seemingly from nowhere, and seizes him around both the wrists. ]
Uh, [ he sounds truly, genuinely dumbfounded this time - so much so that there's hardly any emotion in his inflection at all, just a blank bewilderment - and so is the gaze that flies up as he tips his head back, meeting her square in the eyes.
you don't have to, not to me.
his hand - the mechanical one - flexes for a second under the tight grip, an uncertain reflex that shouldn't exist, fizzing out in fried, severed nerve endings - and after a second or two, he smiles again. it's not as loud as his usual ones that he turns towards others, mitsuru included. it's a more uncertain thing, though no less warm for the tiny waver at the very corners of his mouth. ]
... Please don't do that. I've only got the three ...
[ Is the mockingly disapproving retort she gives, a sense of gladness flooding her for a moment as he actually meets her eyes with those eerily blue ones of his. ]
Although I’m not sure if I should be offended that you think I actually would.
[ It was silly, just something said in the moment and her uncharacteristically sheepish smile back up at him conveys as much. She’s… not quite letting go of his hands yet, for some reason. Reassurance maybe? To stop him feeling like he needs to dash away through the door again? Or something else… She isn’t sure, but it doesn’t seem to matter right now.
She pauses, unsure whether to continue, to say what she’s thinking… her hesitance palpable until she finally voices it. ]
[ talking about mundane, meaningless things like how many shirts he owns helps; it detracts away from the topic at hand, with the rapidly cooling soup-soaked shirt still on the floor behind her. it also helps him to not be so aware of her hands on him, the steady firm press of her fingers around his hands. his heartbeats must be running fifteen hundred miles a second right now, the echoes of residual panic still very much there in the way his lashes flutter, nervously blinking it back - but he still returns the sheepish smile back to her regardless.
he isn't going anywhere, you know. the moment when he could have jumped out any convenient doorways or windows have passed ... but he still doesn't make a move to pull away or anything, obediently waiting for her cue.
it is only out of sheer practice that he doesn't curl back into himself at the quietly voiced question. ]
Not really! [ which means, yes, or at least partially so. he won't elaborate on it. ] I mean, it's been a while...
[ a while since he'd found himself in such a strange place as this, with such strange people. ]
[ Then he can splatter as much soup as he likes - that amused quirk of her lips suggests as much. Nothing as mundane as talking about shirts and she too finds it easier to let that be a distraction, for a moment at least.
A distraction from the compulsive reaction she has to what he says next, gently squeezing his real hand with her own, fingers lightly twined with his, just for a moment... until she loosens her hold again.
It's been a while - does he mean a while since someone put a bullet in him? Burned him? Slashed him? And god knows whatever else by the looks of him... She doesn't like to think on that too much, the amount of times he must have been hurt badly enough to cause such permanent marks of damage over the course of more than century and a half. As for "not really", that answer of his does nothing to assuage her concerns that more than one of those wounds still cause him pain. ]
...If anything like that ever happens to you here, don't be foolish. Come to me. I can heal you before it becomes a problem.
[ A problem... Another scar to add to the patchwork, more pain. One less wouldn't make much of a difference, not in the grand scheme of things and not to him. But it's important to her, important that he knows she wants to do that for him. ]
[ his fingers twitch in the hold as mitsuru squeezes around the scarred digits, thick and knobbly with callouses. he can't help but tense up for a fraction of a second before consciously, carefully letting out a breath he'd been holding, letting his shoulders bleed out the tension - though it still lingers in the worried droop of his eyes as he glances back at her once more, scanning her expression worriedly.
bare arms, bare hands; he'd never been without his gloves around others, much less his forearm completely exposed under scrutiny - it's a vulnerable feeling. not exactly fear of being hurt, but it's nevertheless pain of a different sort that worries at him, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he waits for her next words silently. ]
It's ... okay. Really.
[ stupid, like this, still trying to reassure her. his thumb twitches, hesitant, brushing the edge of his thumb across her first knuckle, before falling back away with a wavering laugh. ] I heal fast!
[ As his thumb brushes across her knuckle she swears that she feels a gentle buzzing. She doesn't understand what it is, why it's happening, perhaps she's just imagining it, but it's pleasant, a gentle tingling sensation across her skin, almost like electricity. If she wasn't otherwise preoccupied with what this weirdly stubborn "man"(??) is saying to her she might be entirely distracted by it - and distracted by the fact that she almost feels strangely disappointed when he draws that touch back again.
The redhead sighs, a gentle exhale. ]
That's not the point, Vash.
[ How exactly does she put it into words? The fact that she doesn't want anything even remotely resembling the extent of those injuries to happen to him again, that she doesn't even want to entertain just the possibility of it. Her lips part and she's clearly about to continue, although for once in her life it looks like she might struggle to articulate it, ] I-
[ She's cut off, abruptly, by a very familiar and very disapproving yowling sound, as a flash of regal fur appears from the other room and Eleanor comes to a stop beside them. Mitsuru chuckles softly in response, finally releasing her hold on Vash's hands before kneeling to address the disgruntled feline and gently stroke her head. ]
[ he knows, that whatever mitsuru was saying - that isn't the point. he understands it. but nevertheless there he goes again; running away again, deliberately acting obtuse behind eyes scrunching into a tight smile behind the tinted sunglasses.
it's a welcome distraction when eleanor appears from where she was enthroned on her fancy cushion on his bed in the other room, staring at them with (what he thinks) is an indignant gaze even while her tail sways to rest against mitsuru's leg in a clear show of "pay attention to me". it gives him an excuse to pull his hands away, taking a step back to let the cat take centre stage. ]
... Um, let me just - [ floundering, his eyes land on the spillage still on the ground, and vash jumps at the chance - moving towards the stove to fuss with the pot and its contents. ]
Right! I was making - soup! I hope it hasn't burnt!!!
[ It's meant as reassurance and anyway, it has to be pretty difficult to burn soup, right? Not that she had made a lot of the stuff ever in her life but still.
She scoops the attention seeking feline up into her arms, immediately taking comfort in the animal's warmth as she watches Vash fuss with the pot. ]
...Did you want me to wash your shirt for you, before I go?
[ You know, seeing as one of the first things Shinjiro taught her how to do when the realised they were stuck in this place indefinitely was to hand wash her own clothes.
She should go, she thinks, even if she doesn't actually want to. She'd just grabbed both of his hands, just like that, without even thinking about it because it had felt like the right thing to do, she had wanted to do it... Now she's questioning herself, falling into her usual habit of silently overanalysing her every thought and action. She's torn between wanting to hold them again, tell him what a fool she thinks he is for thinking he needs to hide what he is, what he looks like from her and fleeing and retreating herself.
Instead, she'll paint the perfect image of calm as per usual. ]
The gift I bought as a thank you is over there on the table by the way.
[ The box of donuts she almost dropped during shirtless panic. ]
in any case, it's not in any danger of burning - thanks to mitsuru having enough foresight to turn the heat off earlier before all the fiasco started - but vash keeps his back turned to the other two as he fusses around with it, unnecessarily fiddling with the knobs of the stove and giving it a few good stirs.
his shoulders curl in on themselves, the hunching of his spine made more obvious without the protective shell-layer of his coat in the way - but vash's laugh is almost back to normal; easy and familiar. practiced. ]
Thank you, but ... I can do it.
[ he's already caused her so much trouble already, so he can't really ask her to do the laundry on top of all that, you know? he'll throw it in the sink to soak after she's gone.
quickly, he makes sure that the soup is still okay - despite everything - and ladles it into the thermos, cuts the bread, packing them all neatly into a bundle that's easy to carry even alongside eleanor's carrier, turning around back to her just in time for mitsuru to point out the gift she'd brought. ]
[ Busying herself with getting her cat ready to go home seems like the right thing to do. Eleanor isn't exactly delighted about being put back into her carrier - although as far as pet carriers go it is ridiculously plush so resistance is fairly minimal. The feline clearly likes Vash and doesn't seem all that happy about going, various disgruntled noises announcing it for them both to hear - but then going home also means snuggles with "mum" so it's a good compromise. The disgruntled meows from inside the carrier continue but only very intermittently as Mitsuru turns her attention back to Vash. ]
And you didn't have to make that for me so I suppose we're somewhat even.
[ Honestly, she had been far too guilty in the past of returning from work and not fixing herself a proper meal. She tended to get carried away with her work, with her thoughts - it was the same back at Gekkoukan and fighting Shadows and it's not always that much different here. Without Shinjiro around she was more inclined to slip back into that little bad habit - late nights and not nearly enough sustenance.
Basically, the soup is appreciated. ]
Thank you. I'll return the thermos to you next time you're on a security shift. [ She holds out the carrier for a moment before she retrieves said thermos bundle. ] ...You had better say goodbye to her through the door or I'm sure she will sulk.
[ see, he had a good idea about how her work schedule was like ... besides, he understands a little of how difficult it is to keep things like that in mind when you're alone, with nobody around to remind them or share meals with.
but of course, he won't say anything to point it out; for once he's actually thinking before he speaks, maybe?
with a bright smile, vash drops to his haunches in front of the carrier she's holding out, sticking his fingers through the fancy woven grilling of the door so he can carefully boop eleanor's nose ... even though she still seems quite grumpy about having forced into it once more. ] Haha ... bye for now! I'll see you again soon!! Better ask Mitsuru to bring you to the office again, yeah?
[ a begrudging meow answers him and vash's smile grows a fraction wider, before looking up at the other. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
if vash's back is a mess of scars, bolts, and burns, the front is not much better when he whirls around, eyes wide behind the skewed glasses over his nose. wire cords run under his skin. his other elbow, the one not made up of glass-green metal, has a metal plate securing the joint in place. there is a terrible scar that runs along the side of his stomach, pale with age but knobby like old roots of trees.
all of this she might not even get a proper glance of, even, because after a second of absolute shock-stillness he squawks like a distressed farm bird and dives through the open doorway (thankfully) beside the kitchen.
from beyond, eleanor yowls in a displeased way at all the ruckus. ]
Sorry! I'm sorry!!!
no subject
It's my fault. I still should have knocked.
[ Regardless of what he'd told her, a person should always knock just in case. She's not sure why she had forgotten her manners to such a degree - perhaps because she tended to let her guard down around him that way.
He'd dived for the door and honestly, she finds it pretty obvious as to why. He hadn't given her long enough to scan him the entirety of his torso but plenty long enough to see the extent of the scars, the burns, the metal parts that almost seem to be holding him together in places... It's a lot. A lot to take in for anyone, to see the extent he must have been damaged over so long an existence that he's had.
Yet she doesn't see anything shameful in that.
She doesn't follow him through the doorway when she turns away from the stove top, but she does speak to him, her tone as quiet as she can allow it to be with a doorway between them. ]
Vash? I apologise, for not knocking but- [ She hesitates, wondering briefly whether she should just go, whether that would be better but- ] You don't need to hide from me. You don't need to apologise either.
no subject
it is not long, before there's a sound of shuffling footsteps behind her ... and vash appears, still sheepish and cringing, shoulders hunched forward as though with enough effort he could scrunch himself up into a little, insignificant ball of nothing. it's not his usual turtleneck, but at least the tshirt covers worst of the scars which are over his torso, and the sleeves are long enough to cover his elbows if he doesn't raise his arms too high. ]
You don't need to apologise! I'm, um ...
[ his eyes dart to the floor and up to her, before dropping down again, guiltily. embarrassed, but in a way that's more ashamed than anything else. despite all that, his brows furrowed, he still tries to laugh anyway. ]
It's my fault, for not hearing the door, so. You don't need to. I'm sorry.
no subject
He's been battered, wounded, burned, nearly torn apart and put back together again in more ways that she could have possibly imagined he'd been. Even for someone who had been around for as long as he had. Yet he's still standing despite it all and all he appears to feel for that is shame?
She doesn't let herself hesitate in closing the distance between them and reaching for his prosthetic, gripping the hand part as she speaks, ]
I meant what I said- [ She reaches for his other hand, real one this time. ] You don't have to hide. Or apologise - for any of it. Not to me.
Look at me and don't apologise to me again or I'll- [ She pauses, staring at him and suddenly just a little flustered. ]
I'll throw this shirt in the soup too. [ It comes out in a rush. It's a lame, foolish, empty threat and she immediately regrets saying such a silly, frivolous thing that is so very unlike her but she means the sentiment behind it. She means every word.
...Well, except the part about actually throwing his shirt in the soup. They both know she's too sensible for something like that. Plus that would require tugging said shirt off him somehow. ]
no subject
Uh, [ he sounds truly, genuinely dumbfounded this time - so much so that there's hardly any emotion in his inflection at all, just a blank bewilderment - and so is the gaze that flies up as he tips his head back, meeting her square in the eyes.
you don't have to, not to me.
his hand - the mechanical one - flexes for a second under the tight grip, an uncertain reflex that shouldn't exist, fizzing out in fried, severed nerve endings - and after a second or two, he smiles again. it's not as loud as his usual ones that he turns towards others, mitsuru included. it's a more uncertain thing, though no less warm for the tiny waver at the very corners of his mouth. ]
... Please don't do that. I've only got the three ...
no subject
[ Is the mockingly disapproving retort she gives, a sense of gladness flooding her for a moment as he actually meets her eyes with those eerily blue ones of his. ]
Although I’m not sure if I should be offended that you think I actually would.
[ It was silly, just something said in the moment and her uncharacteristically sheepish smile back up at him conveys as much. She’s… not quite letting go of his hands yet, for some reason. Reassurance maybe? To stop him feeling like he needs to dash away through the door again? Or something else… She isn’t sure, but it doesn’t seem to matter right now.
She pauses, unsure whether to continue, to say what she’s thinking… her hesitance palpable until she finally voices it. ]
…Does it hurt? Any of it?
no subject
[ talking about mundane, meaningless things like how many shirts he owns helps; it detracts away from the topic at hand, with the rapidly cooling soup-soaked shirt still on the floor behind her. it also helps him to not be so aware of her hands on him, the steady firm press of her fingers around his hands. his heartbeats must be running fifteen hundred miles a second right now, the echoes of residual panic still very much there in the way his lashes flutter, nervously blinking it back - but he still returns the sheepish smile back to her regardless.
he isn't going anywhere, you know. the moment when he could have jumped out any convenient doorways or windows have passed ... but he still doesn't make a move to pull away or anything, obediently waiting for her cue.
it is only out of sheer practice that he doesn't curl back into himself at the quietly voiced question. ]
Not really! [ which means, yes, or at least partially so. he won't elaborate on it. ] I mean, it's been a while...
[ a while since he'd found himself in such a strange place as this, with such strange people. ]
no subject
[ Then he can splatter as much soup as he likes - that amused quirk of her lips suggests as much. Nothing as mundane as talking about shirts and she too finds it easier to let that be a distraction, for a moment at least.
A distraction from the compulsive reaction she has to what he says next, gently squeezing his real hand with her own, fingers lightly twined with his, just for a moment... until she loosens her hold again.
It's been a while - does he mean a while since someone put a bullet in him? Burned him? Slashed him? And god knows whatever else by the looks of him... She doesn't like to think on that too much, the amount of times he must have been hurt badly enough to cause such permanent marks of damage over the course of more than century and a half. As for "not really", that answer of his does nothing to assuage her concerns that more than one of those wounds still cause him pain. ]
...If anything like that ever happens to you here, don't be foolish. Come to me. I can heal you before it becomes a problem.
[ A problem... Another scar to add to the patchwork, more pain. One less wouldn't make much of a difference, not in the grand scheme of things and not to him. But it's important to her, important that he knows she wants to do that for him. ]
no subject
bare arms, bare hands; he'd never been without his gloves around others, much less his forearm completely exposed under scrutiny - it's a vulnerable feeling. not exactly fear of being hurt, but it's nevertheless pain of a different sort that worries at him, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he waits for her next words silently. ]
It's ... okay. Really.
[ stupid, like this, still trying to reassure her. his thumb twitches, hesitant, brushing the edge of his thumb across her first knuckle, before falling back away with a wavering laugh. ] I heal fast!
no subject
The redhead sighs, a gentle exhale. ]
That's not the point, Vash.
[ How exactly does she put it into words? The fact that she doesn't want anything even remotely resembling the extent of those injuries to happen to him again, that she doesn't even want to entertain just the possibility of it. Her lips part and she's clearly about to continue, although for once in her life it looks like she might struggle to articulate it, ] I-
[ She's cut off, abruptly, by a very familiar and very disapproving yowling sound, as a flash of regal fur appears from the other room and Eleanor comes to a stop beside them. Mitsuru chuckles softly in response, finally releasing her hold on Vash's hands before kneeling to address the disgruntled feline and gently stroke her head. ]
We've been ignoring you, haven't we? Forgive us.
no subject
it's a welcome distraction when eleanor appears from where she was enthroned on her fancy cushion on his bed in the other room, staring at them with (what he thinks) is an indignant gaze even while her tail sways to rest against mitsuru's leg in a clear show of "pay attention to me". it gives him an excuse to pull his hands away, taking a step back to let the cat take centre stage. ]
... Um, let me just - [ floundering, his eyes land on the spillage still on the ground, and vash jumps at the chance - moving towards the stove to fuss with the pot and its contents. ]
Right! I was making - soup! I hope it hasn't burnt!!!
no subject
[ It's meant as reassurance and anyway, it has to be pretty difficult to burn soup, right? Not that she had made a lot of the stuff ever in her life but still.
She scoops the attention seeking feline up into her arms, immediately taking comfort in the animal's warmth as she watches Vash fuss with the pot. ]
...Did you want me to wash your shirt for you, before I go?
[ You know, seeing as one of the first things Shinjiro taught her how to do when the realised they were stuck in this place indefinitely was to hand wash her own clothes.
She should go, she thinks, even if she doesn't actually want to. She'd just grabbed both of his hands, just like that, without even thinking about it because it had felt like the right thing to do, she had wanted to do it... Now she's questioning herself, falling into her usual habit of silently overanalysing her every thought and action. She's torn between wanting to hold them again, tell him what a fool she thinks he is for thinking he needs to hide what he is, what he looks like from her and fleeing and retreating herself.
Instead, she'll paint the perfect image of calm as per usual. ]
The gift I bought as a thank you is over there on the table by the way.
[ The box of donuts she almost dropped during shirtless panic. ]
no subject
in any case, it's not in any danger of burning - thanks to mitsuru having enough foresight to turn the heat off earlier before all the fiasco started - but vash keeps his back turned to the other two as he fusses around with it, unnecessarily fiddling with the knobs of the stove and giving it a few good stirs.
his shoulders curl in on themselves, the hunching of his spine made more obvious without the protective shell-layer of his coat in the way - but vash's laugh is almost back to normal; easy and familiar. practiced. ]
Thank you, but ... I can do it.
[ he's already caused her so much trouble already, so he can't really ask her to do the laundry on top of all that, you know? he'll throw it in the sink to soak after she's gone.
quickly, he makes sure that the soup is still okay - despite everything - and ladles it into the thermos, cuts the bread, packing them all neatly into a bundle that's easy to carry even alongside eleanor's carrier, turning around back to her just in time for mitsuru to point out the gift she'd brought. ]
You didn't have to! It really was nothing!
no subject
And you didn't have to make that for me so I suppose we're somewhat even.
[ Honestly, she had been far too guilty in the past of returning from work and not fixing herself a proper meal. She tended to get carried away with her work, with her thoughts - it was the same back at Gekkoukan and fighting Shadows and it's not always that much different here. Without Shinjiro around she was more inclined to slip back into that little bad habit - late nights and not nearly enough sustenance.
Basically, the soup is appreciated. ]
Thank you. I'll return the thermos to you next time you're on a security shift. [ She holds out the carrier for a moment before she retrieves said thermos bundle. ] ...You had better say goodbye to her through the door or I'm sure she will sulk.
no subject
but of course, he won't say anything to point it out; for once he's actually thinking before he speaks, maybe?
with a bright smile, vash drops to his haunches in front of the carrier she's holding out, sticking his fingers through the fancy woven grilling of the door so he can carefully boop eleanor's nose ... even though she still seems quite grumpy about having forced into it once more. ] Haha ... bye for now! I'll see you again soon!! Better ask Mitsuru to bring you to the office again, yeah?
[ a begrudging meow answers him and vash's smile grows a fraction wider, before looking up at the other. ]
Um. See you next time to you ... too?