[ It feels a bit like being whipped around, the way she expresses interest in him one moment and abruptly changes the subject the next. No, more than being whipped around; it's like being blindfolded, turned in circles, and then set loose. Dizzying.
He tries to keep up regardless, still adept at pleasant conversation even if his more advanced social skills may have eroded over time. ]
That's the second outdated book you've given me. [ She'd said the history book was outdated, too! ] I'm starting to think I should stick to the source herself.
[ hers is an approving smile — more easily dispensed on the familiar ground of her studies, her specialties, her life's work. she likes how he picked up on that fact. she likes how he's peering behind one sentence and linking it to another. ]
We've experienced rather a lot of change this past year.
[ the kholins, the kindgom of alethkar, the planet of roshar. ]
At this rate, I daresay most of our history is flawed. Fundamental truths about our provenance and existence on this planet turned out to be neither fundamental nor true. Lies we told ourselves.
[ hmm. ]
Why haven't you asked for help to find a way back home, Dessendre?
[ she might be able to guess given their conversation earlier today. still, she wants to hear it aloud. ]
[ Still blindfolded, he feels her turning him around again. It's like she wants to ensure that he's off-kilter, that only one of them—her—knows exactly where they are and where they're going. She asks about him again, and he can't tell whether she wants him to talk about himself or not, anymore.
Mm. Well, it is a question about his home, not just about himself. Maybe it's more meant to glean information about his world than about him. That, at least, she's been undeniably interested in learning about. ]
Maybe I prefer the wine here.
[ He glances down at the book in his lap, foot pumping restlessly where it sits crossed over his ankle. ]
Doesn't everyone want to escape their life every once in a while?
[ It's the same thing he'd said about escapist fiction. ]
[ her tone is calibrated perfectly to mimic a kind of aha, gotcha! — the tone of a strict tutor, rapping you on the wrist for speaking in generalities. it's the closest she's come to lying to verso outright. oh, she's omitted and redirected plenty, but this particular response is a bit of slight-of-hand. what she says is true, but not strictly what she means.
because once upon a time, a very young jasnah kholin struggled to sort fact from ficton within her own mind. since those dark, painful days, she puts as much space between herself and escapism as she possibly can. or, put differently, digging her nails into the grime and mess of everyday here is a kind of escapism in itself. ]
Where I in your shoes, [ a brief glance at his boots, ] I'd be clamoring to return to where I came from.
[ Self-consciously, he stops the restless movement of his foot. ]
I'm afraid my shoes would be too big for you.
[ Verso regards her with a sidelong glance, considering. Explaining the truth in all of its gory glory is, of course, not an option. What could he possibly say? It turns out I'm just a facsimile of someone who died horribly, living in an artificial Canvas that my mother refuses to leave even though it's rotting her from the inside out. Every year, more and more people die because I exist. Oh, and I killed the only woman I've ever loved to keep my horrible secret. We're still on for that library thing, right?
No. Some things should remain unsaid. ]
You can trust me when I say that it's better this way.
he uses the word idiomatically — or so she assumes — but it still strikes like a bell. jasnah isn't trusting, not in the least, and she can't help but be suspicious of a man dumped onto a wartorn planet and seems to see it as a welcome escape. granted, she also assumes he can't be too far off from that gommage-thing's next few numbers. but, on the other hand, he's got a younger sister...hasn't he?
and yet he appears to be in no rush to return to her. does she live? jasnah frowns, certain only that she will bend physics and break laws to safeguard her blood. storms, she hired an assassin simply because she didn't trust her sister in law. ah, there's that word again.
trust. ]
Should I assume you'll be taking up a more permanent residency at Urithiru, then?
[ more permanent than whatever oddity-refugee-foreigner status she seems to have granted him thus far. ]
[ This is probably a conversation best had in private, but Jasnah seems unaware of the fact that it could potentially be uncomfortable for him to have to discuss his tenuous future in the same room as three strangers, so he steels himself. He's already begun considering the alternatives, places he might be able to stay, things he might be able to do for work. Living out on his own in the wilderness seems less and less feasible now that he knows just how deadly a highstorm can be.
It would be easier to stay here, certainly. The chances of finding a second queen willing to humor an offworld transplant feel negligible. ]
If ma reine is amenable to a foreigner in her midst.
[ you wouldn't be the first — but she doesn't say it. she may have broken off her...arrangement with wit, but she'll nevertheless keep his secrets. the letter he left her suggested their paths may never cross again, but there are still some things they owe one another. ]
We welcome Herdazian refugees. Azish traders. You're simply...a little more foreign than most.
[ her voice is light, obliging, which is a warning sign in itself. the pedal note of her thoughts is caught up wondering why he wants to stay. a sense of survival? legal trouble back home? ]
[ It is a bit strange, the uncharacteristically accommodating lilt to her voice. He'd expected her response to have a bit more of her typical acerbic wit, maybe something like as long as you don't shed on the carpet, if they're going to continue on with the dog comparison. It's not a bad response, though, and although he's a cynic at heart, he knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Being here can't be any worse than being there. ]
And what would you suggest a foreign refugee do to earn his keep?
[ He doubts enough people will be interested in taking piano lessons. ]
[ she doesn't suppose that visit nightly and detail to me all the quirks and features of your planet constitutes an attractive enough job offer. ]
There's no housing fee at Urithiru. Not for anyone. It... [ well, it's because they all escaped there as refugees, to start. ] It's got space enough. Anyone on the side of the Coalition is welcome.
[ as for everything else? food, drink, clothing, other amenities... ]
— Go on. List your skills.
[ yes, maybe this SHOULD be happening somewhere more private. ]
[ Verso stares at her, obviously a bit taken aback—slash amused—by the command. And it is a command, delivered with all the imperiousness of a queen. ]
Right now?
[ This is very off the cuff! He straightens up a bit, letting his feet drop to the floor, heels of his boots making a very faint thud as they hit the ground. ]
You've already heard me play. [ If he sounds a bit arrogant, well. So he is. There's no doubt in his mind that he's more musically gifted than most, given that he's been practicing for a century. ] I write poetry on occasion. And I'm not a half-bad waltzer.
[ these are not marketable skills. rather — she can think of only one position that fits a man who plays music and writes poetry. and two days ago they already discussed how that would nevertheless be a terrible assignment. and really, jasnah doesn't think she even needs a new queen's wit... ]
— Waltzer? What's a waltzer?
[ maybe it's a martial form. a sword stance. she can work with that. ]
[ Well, he is quite good with a weapon, but he's not quite sure how to bring that one up after he's unintentionally painted himself into a corner of being a total city boy who's never set foot on the Continent. Give him a moment to think of a good lie.
In the meantime, he scoots forward a little on the settee and holds his arms up, approximating a leading dancer's stance. ]
You know—
[ He hums Strauss's Blue Danube. Dundundundundu-dundun-dundun. ]
I thought you were top of your class in dancing lessons.
[ deftly, she leans back — out of his way, although his gesture doesn't truly come close to intersecting with how she sits. her gaze narrows, and even after he mimes the action she can't quite determine what in damnation he's suggesting.
[ After several days of knowing nothing, it's satisfying to see that blank lack of recognition on Jasnah's face. A-ha. So she doesn't know everything. Verso stops his mock-dance with an imaginary partner, pointing at her as if he were a very wise professor imparting knowledge onto a foolish student. ]
It's the dance, according to some.
[ All the more embarrassing that she doesn't know it! ]
Just 'waltz'. A classic partner dance in triple meter.
[ It had been more of an offhanded joke than a true skill, but he did learn quite young so that he could be appropriately entertaining at his parents' soirees. Although it's been a good few decades since he's had anyone to dance with—or any reason to dance at all—he's sure he can still remember the basics.
Only teasing: ] Your dance instruction leaves something to be desired, I'm afraid.
[ to her credit, she takes the correction in stride. jasnah is many thing — aloof, condescending, and strict. however, she is not so arrogant as to rankle under new information. she listens; she processes; she accepts. she is an adherent of the philosophy of aspiration and to aspire is to learn.
— doesn't stop her from wrinkling her nose and questioning his claim. ]
A partner dance? What, for harvest festivals?
[ light eyes feasts and fetes have always included a little bit of dancing, sure, but those dances were done in sets and lines. appropriate distance between participants. no touching. no partner. those are the dances she was taught. but she'd heard of other kinds, popular among the dark eyes. but verso, she'd noticed the moment she'd met him, isn't a dark eyes. his were a fine, bright grey. fit for royalty in roshar.
although...she also knows well enough that the colour of one's eyes means storms all in other worlds. wit told her so. it only underlined the strange arbitrary nature of the division — something she'd written about in the past, but only theoretically. ]
Or back-alley bars?
[ surely she thinks very little of this partner dancing. ]
[ Verso raises his eyebrows at that semi-accusation, although he finds it more humorous than offensive. He's been accused of a lot of things over the years. Being a deviant dancer is probably one of the more flattering accusations, all things considered. ]
My back-alley bar talents are of a... different nature.
[ An even less marketable nature, unless the Alethi are all secretly way freakier than he thought. ]
It's for parties. Socializing. You've really never pair danced before?
[ okay, alright, put a pin in the concept of his differing back-alley bar talents. jasnah is an equal opportunist interrogator. it's just that so many people resisted her curiosity.
she loosely crosses her arms, refusing to feel shame for her lack of familiarity with partner dances. her attention was always elsewhere — she learned as much as she needed to survive alethi feasts, and no more. ]
No. [ her head tilts. ] We have a handful of group steps, followed in a line, but nothing so — intimate. Is it truly so common in Lumière?
[ Sorry, he laughs a little. It's just— clearly, their cultures couldn't differ more on the concept of intimacy. What she considers surprisingly intimate is really quite banal. Of course there's some excitement to partner dancing with someone you find attractive, given the proximity, but it's hardly scandalous. Back before he learned the truth, when he really was the bon vivant he's portraying himself to be, Verso would regularly do five more scandalous things than that before lunch. ]
I once waltzed with an old lady.
[ To give her an idea of how shockingly intimate the act is. ]
[ her jaw works, lips tight. likely, her tongue tucking into a tooth — idle, fidgety, thoughtful. it stands to reason that different planets have different customs. wit had (after all) provided a lengthy, annotated list of the different genres of seduction poetry found across the cosmere.
(she liked the memento mori ones best.)
nevertheless, it's so strange! her cheeks colour, just barely, but mostly at his laughter. she can handle being wrong; she dislikes being naive. ]
The ways of your world are [ insufferable, bizarre, horrific ] fascinating.
[ Insufferable, bizarre, horrific—that's him. But he doesn't want to make her feel too embarrassed for not knowing, so he concedes: ]
It can be intimate, under the right circumstances.
[ He'd be lying if he'd said he'd never used dancing as an excuse to push his luck with someone that he shouldn't. (Hey, it's almost like that's a pattern.) Verso hadn't had anything more important to worry about besides choosing the outfit for his next concert and charming women into his bedroom then; or, more accurately, he hadn't known that he had anything more important to worry about. ]
It can be used as a way to... socialize with the opposite sex. [ Put euphemistically. It provides a pretense to get physically close to someone. Puts a respectable veneer over it. ] Or the same sex, as the case may be.
[ Verso's mom is a /r/raisedbynarcissists #boymom, but she was also apparently very woke for 1905, because she created an LGBT-friendly world. I must admit that is queen shit. ]
[ jasnah recognizes the euphemism for what it is. perhaps it isn't too different from a brace of other events and excuses fabricated by young, hot-blooded alethi over the years. it was never her cup of tea, of course — but additionally, the war of reckoning had put a damper on most revels. her uncle, dalinar, had a strict code about these sorts of things: no leisure during wartime.
— and, notably, the barrier to "socialize" was much, much lower for those of the same sex. it's not like jasnah hasn't witnessed a half-dozen of her scholar-sisters pair off in quiet corners of libraries, eschewing their work and entertaining distraction. some scholars got inappropriately attached to their students, though jasnah personally couldn't stomach the idea of getting romantically entangled with a ward. ]
I'd like a demonstration. [ and then in case it sounds too much as though she means right now, she adds: ] Someday.
[ not a question. never a question. she commands, and the loyal provide. ]
[ Whipped around, once again. For once, Verso's fairly sure his rustiness isn't to blame for his uncertainty at whether she's suggesting they dance, or... dance. Although he's reluctant to follow a train of thought that is vanishingly unlikely, his nerve endings tingle slightly, and somewhere in the back of his mind he finds himself acutely aware of the space between them. Even more acutely aware of how that imperious tone of voice might sound making other sorts of commands.
Exceedingly casually: ] Sure. A proper demonstration will require your participation, though.
[ Because it's paired. And also because he wants it to. ]
[ her voice is iron, far more severe than the topic requires — and that should perhaps be his first clue that she isn't being entirely serious in her disagreement. still iron, her voice sinks low and quiet. presumably for his ears only. ]
I'm certain we could find a willing stand-in.
[ a glance across the back of the settee, indicating with just her sightline the three scribes who had ogled him upon their arrival to the shelter. they have long since moved on to other topics, but it's clear jasnah hasn't forgotten how they reacted.
ultimately, she will agree to dance (for science!) but something in her very nature disallows her from simply saying so. ]
[ ...Yep, there's more whipping around. It's a wonder she hasn't given him whiplash. He's starting to catch onto the cadence of this push-pull, though; she says something that suggests she might harbor some amount of interest in him, however insignificant and superficial, and then immediately withdraws when he responds favorably. So, maybe he shouldn't respond favorably.
An experimental calling of her bluff, he cants his head toward the scribes. ] Should I go ask?
[ He'll dance-cuck Jasnah if she wants to be dance-cucked. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He tries to keep up regardless, still adept at pleasant conversation even if his more advanced social skills may have eroded over time. ]
That's the second outdated book you've given me. [ She'd said the history book was outdated, too! ] I'm starting to think I should stick to the source herself.
no subject
We've experienced rather a lot of change this past year.
[ the kholins, the kindgom of alethkar, the planet of roshar. ]
At this rate, I daresay most of our history is flawed. Fundamental truths about our provenance and existence on this planet turned out to be neither fundamental nor true. Lies we told ourselves.
[ hmm. ]
Why haven't you asked for help to find a way back home, Dessendre?
[ she might be able to guess given their conversation earlier today. still, she wants to hear it aloud. ]
no subject
Mm. Well, it is a question about his home, not just about himself. Maybe it's more meant to glean information about his world than about him. That, at least, she's been undeniably interested in learning about. ]
Maybe I prefer the wine here.
[ He glances down at the book in his lap, foot pumping restlessly where it sits crossed over his ankle. ]
Doesn't everyone want to escape their life every once in a while?
[ It's the same thing he'd said about escapist fiction. ]
no subject
[ her tone is calibrated perfectly to mimic a kind of aha, gotcha! — the tone of a strict tutor, rapping you on the wrist for speaking in generalities. it's the closest she's come to lying to verso outright. oh, she's omitted and redirected plenty, but this particular response is a bit of slight-of-hand. what she says is true, but not strictly what she means.
because once upon a time, a very young jasnah kholin struggled to sort fact from ficton within her own mind. since those dark, painful days, she puts as much space between herself and escapism as she possibly can. or, put differently, digging her nails into the grime and mess of everyday here is a kind of escapism in itself. ]
Where I in your shoes, [ a brief glance at his boots, ] I'd be clamoring to return to where I came from.
no subject
I'm afraid my shoes would be too big for you.
[ Verso regards her with a sidelong glance, considering. Explaining the truth in all of its gory glory is, of course, not an option. What could he possibly say? It turns out I'm just a facsimile of someone who died horribly, living in an artificial Canvas that my mother refuses to leave even though it's rotting her from the inside out. Every year, more and more people die because I exist. Oh, and I killed the only woman I've ever loved to keep my horrible secret. We're still on for that library thing, right?
No. Some things should remain unsaid. ]
You can trust me when I say that it's better this way.
no subject
he uses the word idiomatically — or so she assumes — but it still strikes like a bell. jasnah isn't trusting, not in the least, and she can't help but be suspicious of a man dumped onto a wartorn planet and seems to see it as a welcome escape. granted, she also assumes he can't be too far off from that gommage-thing's next few numbers. but, on the other hand, he's got a younger sister...hasn't he?
and yet he appears to be in no rush to return to her. does she live? jasnah frowns, certain only that she will bend physics and break laws to safeguard her blood. storms, she hired an assassin simply because she didn't trust her sister in law. ah, there's that word again.
trust. ]
Should I assume you'll be taking up a more permanent residency at Urithiru, then?
[ more permanent than whatever oddity-refugee-foreigner status she seems to have granted him thus far. ]
no subject
It would be easier to stay here, certainly. The chances of finding a second queen willing to humor an offworld transplant feel negligible. ]
If ma reine is amenable to a foreigner in her midst.
no subject
We welcome Herdazian refugees. Azish traders. You're simply...a little more foreign than most.
[ her voice is light, obliging, which is a warning sign in itself. the pedal note of her thoughts is caught up wondering why he wants to stay. a sense of survival? legal trouble back home? ]
no subject
And what would you suggest a foreign refugee do to earn his keep?
[ He doubts enough people will be interested in taking piano lessons. ]
no subject
There's no housing fee at Urithiru. Not for anyone. It... [ well, it's because they all escaped there as refugees, to start. ] It's got space enough. Anyone on the side of the Coalition is welcome.
[ as for everything else? food, drink, clothing, other amenities... ]
— Go on. List your skills.
[ yes, maybe this SHOULD be happening somewhere more private. ]
no subject
Right now?
[ This is very off the cuff! He straightens up a bit, letting his feet drop to the floor, heels of his boots making a very faint thud as they hit the ground. ]
You've already heard me play. [ If he sounds a bit arrogant, well. So he is. There's no doubt in his mind that he's more musically gifted than most, given that he's been practicing for a century. ] I write poetry on occasion. And I'm not a half-bad waltzer.
[ These are not marketable skills. ]
no subject
— Waltzer? What's a waltzer?
[ maybe it's a martial form. a sword stance. she can work with that. ]
no subject
In the meantime, he scoots forward a little on the settee and holds his arms up, approximating a leading dancer's stance. ]
You know—
[ He hums Strauss's Blue Danube. Dundundundundu-dundun-dundun. ]
I thought you were top of your class in dancing lessons.
[ Class of one. ]
no subject
but then he hums. and talks about dancing.
oh — hmm. ]
And...a waltzer is a — a dance?
[ help a gal out. ]
no subject
It's the dance, according to some.
[ All the more embarrassing that she doesn't know it! ]
Just 'waltz'. A classic partner dance in triple meter.
[ It had been more of an offhanded joke than a true skill, but he did learn quite young so that he could be appropriately entertaining at his parents' soirees. Although it's been a good few decades since he's had anyone to dance with—or any reason to dance at all—he's sure he can still remember the basics.
Only teasing: ] Your dance instruction leaves something to be desired, I'm afraid.
no subject
— doesn't stop her from wrinkling her nose and questioning his claim. ]
A partner dance? What, for harvest festivals?
[ light eyes feasts and fetes have always included a little bit of dancing, sure, but those dances were done in sets and lines. appropriate distance between participants. no touching. no partner. those are the dances she was taught. but she'd heard of other kinds, popular among the dark eyes. but verso, she'd noticed the moment she'd met him, isn't a dark eyes. his were a fine, bright grey. fit for royalty in roshar.
although...she also knows well enough that the colour of one's eyes means storms all in other worlds. wit told her so. it only underlined the strange arbitrary nature of the division — something she'd written about in the past, but only theoretically. ]
Or back-alley bars?
[ surely she thinks very little of this partner dancing. ]
no subject
My back-alley bar talents are of a... different nature.
[ An even less marketable nature, unless the Alethi are all secretly way freakier than he thought. ]
It's for parties. Socializing. You've really never pair danced before?
no subject
she loosely crosses her arms, refusing to feel shame for her lack of familiarity with partner dances. her attention was always elsewhere — she learned as much as she needed to survive alethi feasts, and no more. ]
No. [ her head tilts. ] We have a handful of group steps, followed in a line, but nothing so — intimate. Is it truly so common in Lumière?
no subject
[ Sorry, he laughs a little. It's just— clearly, their cultures couldn't differ more on the concept of intimacy. What she considers surprisingly intimate is really quite banal. Of course there's some excitement to partner dancing with someone you find attractive, given the proximity, but it's hardly scandalous. Back before he learned the truth, when he really was the bon vivant he's portraying himself to be, Verso would regularly do five more scandalous things than that before lunch. ]
I once waltzed with an old lady.
[ To give her an idea of how shockingly intimate the act is. ]
no subject
(she liked the memento mori ones best.)
nevertheless, it's so strange! her cheeks colour, just barely, but mostly at his laughter. she can handle being wrong; she dislikes being naive. ]
The ways of your world are [ insufferable, bizarre, horrific ] fascinating.
no subject
It can be intimate, under the right circumstances.
[ He'd be lying if he'd said he'd never used dancing as an excuse to push his luck with someone that he shouldn't. (Hey, it's almost like that's a pattern.) Verso hadn't had anything more important to worry about besides choosing the outfit for his next concert and charming women into his bedroom then; or, more accurately, he hadn't known that he had anything more important to worry about. ]
It can be used as a way to... socialize with the opposite sex. [ Put euphemistically. It provides a pretense to get physically close to someone. Puts a respectable veneer over it. ] Or the same sex, as the case may be.
[ Verso's mom is a /r/raisedbynarcissists #boymom, but she was also apparently very woke for 1905, because she created an LGBT-friendly world. I must admit that is queen shit. ]
no subject
— and, notably, the barrier to "socialize" was much, much lower for those of the same sex. it's not like jasnah hasn't witnessed a half-dozen of her scholar-sisters pair off in quiet corners of libraries, eschewing their work and entertaining distraction. some scholars got inappropriately attached to their students, though jasnah personally couldn't stomach the idea of getting romantically entangled with a ward. ]
I'd like a demonstration. [ and then in case it sounds too much as though she means right now, she adds: ] Someday.
[ not a question. never a question. she commands, and the loyal provide. ]
no subject
Exceedingly casually: ] Sure. A proper demonstration will require your participation, though.
[ Because it's paired. And also because he wants it to. ]
no subject
[ her voice is iron, far more severe than the topic requires — and that should perhaps be his first clue that she isn't being entirely serious in her disagreement. still iron, her voice sinks low and quiet. presumably for his ears only. ]
I'm certain we could find a willing stand-in.
[ a glance across the back of the settee, indicating with just her sightline the three scribes who had ogled him upon their arrival to the shelter. they have long since moved on to other topics, but it's clear jasnah hasn't forgotten how they reacted.
ultimately, she will agree to dance (for science!) but something in her very nature disallows her from simply saying so. ]
no subject
An experimental calling of her bluff, he cants his head toward the scribes. ] Should I go ask?
[ He'll dance-cuck Jasnah if she wants to be dance-cucked. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
aggressively backflips into prose
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
tosses u a midnight before bed tag.......
delightful.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...