#Poor Fergal - he's a nice boy

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

THE CHOICE

Prompt: When Finn starts to act weird,Y/N has her suspicions as to why he’s acting like that. But the reason behind his acts might surprise her.

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Finn Bálor(Fergal Devitt) x Reader

Warnings: Angst, jealously, smut(implied), fluff

Notes: I love me some jealous/clingy/needy Finn 🥰 Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

I rolled my eyes for the 5th time, as I heard him knocking on my home office door AGAIN, for the 8th time, in a 10 MINUTES break! I swear to God, I’m gonna loose my fucking mind if this keeps happening every 2 minutes!

“Come on in” I slight angrily said

“Hey again love, I know I’m bothering ya,but I really need your help with something!” He sheepishly smiles

“What is it now Finn?”

“I was thinking about ordering some pizza for dinner what do you think? Also I wanted to bake some cake for us, but I don’t know where ya keep the measuring cups”

“You? Pizza?” I ask in disbelief and he just nods with a sweet smile on his face

“And a cake? For us? You don’t even eat sweets!”

“I don’t need sweets, I got ya” he gives me a cheesy smile

“You’re so corny” I laughed “I thought you followed ‘a strict diet that excluded sugar and carbs’ so you could ‘keep your abs in shape for the girls’ “ I said imitating the words he used to say to me,to make me jealous,so I would agree to go out with him on a date.

“Fine, those were poor choice of words from my part, but on my defense I was trying to impress ya”

“Impress me, by making me jealous?”

“Reverse psychology love. I had to make ya think that ya didn’t want me so ya could really want me and accept my dinner invitation” He proudly said

“What? That makes zero sense!”

“But it worked didn’t? Here we are, 4 years later!” He gave me that devilish smirk

“Whatever!” I responded holding my laugh

“My answer is yes for the pizza. And the measuring cups are at the top shelf,where I keep the wine glasses” I turned to my desk so I could continue to work.

“Do ya want to help me?” He asks, with an innocent voice

“Finn, I’m working babe... I have to finish this report ‘til 3 p.m.”

“Oh” he says with an upset voice “Is John coming over to get it?” His voice changed from upset to slightly angry

“Yes, he’s coming over by 2 p.m.” And I regretted those words as soon as they left my mouth.

“Why is he coming by at 2 p.m. if you don’t have to deliver it until 3?” I turned around to face him and oh boy, my Irish man was not happy at all! It took a lot to take Finn out of his smiley happy mood but one thing that it sure did the job perfectly was John, my ex-boyfriend!

The company that I worked for was used to make some freelance contracts with certified translators, and by the irony of fate John was a very high requested certified translator. So it was no surprise to me when I found out that the big boss wanted to sign a contract with him, but what I didn’t saw it coming was that I would be the one designated to work with him. As much as I would like to decline it, I have bills and I need them to be paid, so I suck it up and accept the very bad taste joke fate has put it in my way.

But Finn on the other hand was not having it! He was recovering from an injury, so he was home 24/7 not being able to do what he loves, but now he also has to deal with John coming over,always showing up earlier and leaving way later than he was supposed to, while in the mean time tried to flirt with me...4 times a week!

I wasn’t very fondly of it either but like I said, this is my job! I can’t just say fuck off to the big boss, I need to pay my rent damn it!

To be honest Finn was acting pretty weird ever since John reappeared from the ashes... I expected some sort of jealousy attack or something but he just.. I don’t know.... He wasn’t following his diet(which was very weird considering he took that very seriously even when he was injured)started to act all needy and clingy, like a little boy. He followed me around EVERY WHERE, always needing to be comforted, wanted to be kissed and touched as often as possible and kept interrupting me every 2 minutes to draw my attention from work to him. I’m not gonna lie, I was getting slightly annoyed. I just want to get this damn job done, so I can stop looking at my stupid ex boyfriend’s face 4 days of the week, but Lord give me strength, cause Finn wasn’t helping me,not even one bit!

“Finny...”

“Don’t Finny me and just answer my question please”

“I don’t know why is he coming by at 2, my sunshine” I tried to remain as calm as I could

“Did you asked him to come by earlier?”

I turned to face him with a very annoyed look of disbelief on my face

“Are you seriously asking me this? Oh boy, I just hope that this is one of your bad taste jokes...”

“I am serious! Did you or did you not asked him to come by earlier? It’s a simple question!”

“You know what Fergal? I’ll just pretend I never heard that, because the last person I want to fight or lash out is you” I said as I turned to my desk again.

“Oh great, so you’re choosing him huh?”

“What?” I looked at him in shock

“If you want him back, then fine, go with him!”

“What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

“John! That’s what I’m talking about! I know you want him back! If you want to choose him and be with him go for it! I don’t care!” He screamed and turned away closing the door so forcefully I thought it was gonna break in half.

“Where the hell you think you’re going Fergal?”

He did not just accused me of wanting that asshole back plus started a fight and walked away! Well he should’ve known better, because now I was ferociously angry as I followed him to our bedroom ready to punch someone in the face!

“Fergal, don’t you even dare to lock that do-“

The motherfucker just closed the door in my face! And lock it!

“Finn, open the door!”

“Go away Y/N”

“Fergal don’t be so ridiculous!”

“I don’t wanna talk to ya”

“Finn open the door damn it!”

“It’s 12:30 ya should go and get ready for ya boyfriend”

“YOU are my boyfriend”

“I know ya don’t want me, ya want him, no need to lie! So don’t make this worst for me and just leave please...”

His voice sounded so sincerely hurt that all of my anger washed away

“Finn...baby, what is this all about? Why are you acting like this?”

He didn’t answer

“Finn?”

Still no answer

“C’mon Finny, don’t be so childish,love”

When I was left speaking alone for the third time I went to the bathroom down the hall and grabbed the spear key to the bedroom that I kept it in the drawer of the bathroom cabinet.

I opened the door to find Finn lying on the bed with his back facing the door.

“Finn” I tried to get him to talk, when it didn’t happen I walked to the bed and laid down beside him.

Solid 20 minutes had passed and he still didn’t said a word, so I gave up, got up from the bed and when I was about to go out the door he whispered

“Are you gonna choose him?”

I turned around and made my way back to my original spot.

“Can you at least look at me so I can answer you properly?”

He turned around and I had never seen such a broken look on those beautiful ocean eyes of his

“It’s ok if ya want him back, I understand it...”

“Finny, where did you get all these from baby?”

He shrugged his shoulders

“Finn look at me, I would never EVER in a million years leave you for John baby! What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know...he’s better than me in everything. He’s taller, prettier, more successful, more educated...I mean he match with ya perfectly...”

“Finny why are you saying such bad things about yourself? John’s got nothing on you babe! You’re my sunshine, my everything, the only man that I want, the only man that I need!” I cupped his bearded cheek and suddenly something hit me

“That’s why you were doing those things? The baking, the junk food, the being extra needy and extra clingy?... Is this your way to show me that you’re jealous?”

“Not really....this was my way to make ya choose me instead of him... I wanted to be the perfect man for ya.. so ya wouldn’t leave me...”

My heart broke with those words and my eyes filled with tears.

“Baby no...” Was all I could say before I pulled him towards my chest and let his head rest on my breasts.

“You ARE and ALWAYS will be the perfect man for me! I love you for who you are! You don’t need you to change anything, you were and will always be my perfect gift from the universe. My ray of sunshine”

He looked up and I couldn’t help but kiss him passionately.

“You promise?”

“How can you even ask that?” I smiled

“I’m sorry for the things I said before... I was angry and jealous..I was just so scared to lose ya..” He hugged me tighter and pecked my lips

“You’re stuck with me Devitt!” I chuckled

“I wouldn’t want it any other way love” he sweetly smiled at me

“So my baby boy is a jealous one huh? Getting all clingy and needy...” I teased him

“Ya have that effect on me babe” he laughed

“He needs constant proof that he is loved” I started to kiss his neck

“And wanted” my hands roamed his chest and abs

“And needed” my hands stopped at his crotch

“Hmmmm what are ya doing love?”

“Maybe” I straddle his hips “I should show you how much I love you” I started to hump him “Need you” I lowered my lips to his ears “And just how much you turn me on”

“That would be nice ya know?” He said with a low voice and placed his hands on my hips to establish a rhythm to our now dry humping.

“Yeah? Would you like that baby?”

“Mmhhmmm..that would be a great confidence boost for sure love” He started to kiss my neck

“And how could I help you with that?”

“Oh I’ve got a few ideas...”

“So tell me”

And my eyes closed to enjoy every dirty thing that beautiful Irish man wanted me to do with him.

And boy I was more than eager to!

[entomancy]

Diolain - part 4: The State of play

I’m sure I’ve used that title before... ANYWAY.  I have - possibly foolishly - signed up for NaNoWriMo again this year, so while that will hopefully start up my writing better, it means I will be very much in Not Allowed To Edit mode for a month.  So allowed myself a final fling with editing and polished up chapter 4 of this.

Part 1. Part 2.  Part 3. Wattpad.

Title: The State of play Setting: The State history: end- ‘Golden Age’ (about 40 years ago). Warnings: Blood. Summary: The team learn a bit more about what is going on, and find another familiar face. Characters: Samúiel Daly; Fergal Callaghan; Najwa Farouk. Words: 2975

-

Fergal seemed dazed, hardly responding as Samie hauled him back upright and made an attempt to wipe away some of the gory splatter.  He recruited his hat to help, since there wasn't much point now in even trying to disguise the curving ridges of scale that had run a new geography down his skull.  Even his jaw was deeper, longer, giving him the underbite from hell, and layers of faintly-oval scales had spilled out of his split sleeves and along his wrists, refracting dully as he ran an assessing hand across Fergal’s shoulders, feeling the shiver set in there.

“Still with me, Ferg?” he asked, quietly, and after a few long breaths he got a shaking nod in reply.

“Still with you, Sam.” Fergal reached up to fold his fingers down over the contact.  Slim, dark, human digits, atop ones now like knotted bananas that ended in blunt claws.

The claws were always a bit of a pain, if Samie were honest. He still had fingertips - or at least soft, gripping pads set underneath each one - but actually touching anything without raking the claws across it first was a task.  It was kind of like wearing gloves made of your own living fingernails (a description that tended to make folk stop askin’ about it).

But the emphasis now wasn't just about the demon through him.  It was more… uncomfortable.  Samie had been in situations that had gone south before; hell, had been on assignments that started there and just got worse, but that was just it.  What he did.  The sort of life he’d been set for before his balls had dropped.  Fergal wasn't the kind of person you dragged up off the floor, spackled bloody with a dead man’s gore.  He was a talker; highborn without either the arrogance of family or the chipped shoulder common to unGated.  He did words, and smiling, and people liked him.  He shouldn't fucking be here.  Probably none of them should, but this was more’n that.

Samie was angry, so the Scout was angry too.  She didn’t know Ferg, but the feel of - the importance of - kin was always there within the sense of her.  Whether it was just that “synaesthetic transference” or a deeper empathy (the kind of distinction that had gotten Samie sternly Talked To in his younger days, before he’d learned to keep those musing to himself), it didn't matter.  

They were getting him out.

Najwa’s guards were visibly keeping their distance as Samie herded Fergal into his shadow once again.  Only Najwa herself was still looking directly at him, her head tilted slightly to one side.

“So, it is true.” She sounded more intrigued than worried. “The monster-kings of a cursed country.”

“Never the Rig, love,” Samie replied, only half paying attention as he tried to get his bearings against his mental map of this place. “Even Abhain ain’t crownin’ a demon.”

Not that a couple hadn’t tried.  The Cineál’s history was… interesting, when no one was forcing you to read it.  What it boiled down to, when you went to the core, was that you just couldn't be the boss and a Gate.  Didn't work.  Wouldn’t fly.  Honestly, Samie couldn’t see why anyone would want the other option, even if there were any kinda choice to it. Whole lot of politics and shades-of-bullshit.

Najwa watched him for another heartbeat then turned back to the State bodies, business-like again.  One of her guards had pulled the corpses’ helmets off, rapidly searching, and reached up to hand her something.  Some muttered conversation was exchanged before she pushed it through the fabric of her helm, at ear-height.  Radio link, maybe? The other guard did the same.

“We go now,” she announced, and again the group fell into their smooth formation.  Samie seemed to have been left with both Ambassadors; Fergal sticking close, and the golden woman moving to lean heavily against his other side as they moved.

The room let out into the kind of dull corridor that said “maintenance” in several languages of functionally-cheap decor.  The only additions to the walls, besides printouts of fire safety instructions, were a selection of stencilled designs in black.  A ring of more rings interlocked, with ‘Unity’ printed in joyless font in the centre; angular flames below clasped hands; and other designs Samie couldn’t quite work out more than to decide he didn’t like them.  There was some weird shit on the walls back home, in places - particularly on old buildings, slathered in deliberately-dramatic renderings of hybrid forms, designed by fevered imaginations of people who had mistaken Gatehood for God-touched and gotten way too involved in the idea - but that was a familiar kind of odd.  Plus it was all relic, abandoned delusion that no-one sensible believed in anymore.  This stuff was fresh.

He didn’t like it at all.

The distant sounds of fighting became considerably less distant as they made their way further through the building’s back-room veins.  How many international groups were here, anyway?  Samie hadn’t been keeping track, since knowing how many flags to recognise had seemed to be a Fergal-problem.  Ambassadors, immediate entourage, guards, domestic staff… there’d certainly be a damn sight more than had been at that party.  What were these eyeballed-up bastards planning to do - kill everyone?

“Ain’t this all gonna look a bit feckin’ suspicious?” he muttered, as they crept across a large, utterly-empty kitchen. “Invite a whole lot of folks over, then knock them all off at once?  What’re they after?  Thinkin’ no one’s gonna notice?”

“There’s… something strange going on alright,” Fergal replied, his voice lowered. “I mean, getting Intel out of here is a task, sure, but all indicators were that the regime was stabilising.” He wiped a hand down his face again, distractedly, and shivered. “Why else hold this?  They’re not grand hosts but I sure as shite wouldn’t have pushed for attending if - if I’d thought - ” he trailed off, staring down at the smears of still-drying scarlet on the back of his hand.  Little muscles in his throat twitched, his lips tightening unevenly.

“...I shouldn’t’ve - should’ve seen - ”

The purging sigil’s earlier evacuations meant the heave that cut his words this time was dry, little more than spit and acid, half-choked as Fergal tried to silence himself as he retched.  Samie laid one huge hand on his brother’s shoulder, fingers splayed enough to keep the claws out of play, and squeezed awkwardly with his palm.

“Hey now,” he said, a little gruffly. “None ‘o that searchin’ about for blame in your head.  They’re a bunch of fucking loony bastards.  End of.  And whatever they were thinkin’ of? Well, now they’ve got Isuanai in the walls, this lot of scary ladies - ” he jerked a free thumb towards the golden guards, since he was fairly sure now that they were tagging along with a lioness situation “ - going all spec-ops on their arses, as well as our shenanigans.  I’ll be bettin’ we are royally fucking up the plan.”

“You’d know,” Fergal muttered as he wiped his mouth, following with a wisp of a smile, and Samie rolled his eyes.

“If you’re so-delicately alluding t’your twenty-seventh, I’ll point out again that it’s real far from my fault that Murray can’t hold his soma.” He stopped, frowning. “...okay, so the pond bit was my idea, but - ”

“Be quiet,” Najwa hissed over her shoulder, exuding a glare even through the fabric. Samie stuck out his tongue.  It wasn’t exactly a mature response, but right now he didn’t care.

“Craic in survival situations is - ”

“Speak.  Less.”

He might have thought of a wittier comeback, given time, but the rattle of gunfire from up ahead took everyone’s attention.  There was shouting, too, and Samie felt Fergal press in closer behind him, the golden Ambassador tightening her grip on his arm, and -

- and -

There’s something off about this.

Samie’s extended senses prickled and he sought around in the enhanced input, searching for the oddity.  Gunfire in the current state of chaos wasn’t exactly strange. The sound had a replying pattern - one set of shots and another in retort - and he frowned, carefully swinging the gold lady around into Fergal’s surprised arms.

“Gimme a sec,” he said, and started off down the corridor again at a soft jog. The backstairs-space curved here, a discreet doorway set ajar into the public area beyond, and Samie caught a glimpse of movement through the crack - a black-clad shape shifting position, crouching down behind the cover provided by the edge of a wide staircase.  He remembered that staircase, guiding Fergal’s presumed-tipsy footsteps up boring-patterned plush.  Now it was a shooting gallery.

He could smell blood, and the acrid edge of State gunsmoke.  The figure behind the door hadn’t noticed him, but that black-sheen helmet was familiar enough that the remaining hair on Samie’s neck rose.  He didn't much like creepin’ up on a guy unannounced, particularly as he doubted the trooper was going to be any older than the youths back there, but he wasn’t going to give up surprise out of plain pride.

The Stateboy tensed, bobbing up to fire again, and this time no answering gunshots followed.  There was a cry of alarm - and Samie’s eyes widened as he realised that he knew that reedy voice; cut short with pain and fear, but familiar nonetheless.

“I beg you - this is madness - you must -!”

...the actual fuck is goin’ on here?

The Stateboy clearly hadn’t been expecting any more resistance, as he fair-swaggered forwards with his weapon swinging widely.  He certainly hadn’t been expecting anyone to appear from behind him, and there was no way in hell he would have thought to see anything like Samie’s scale-strewn hulk baring down.  The hybrid fist slammed into his helmet with shattering force, plastic bursting open like crushed eggshell and the dark figure went down hard, skidding bonelessly as he hit the tile.

Samie slowly lowered his arm, looking down the length of it at the second figure, slumped against the wall behind a makeshift barricade of tables.  There were other bodies, strewn here and there, all peppered with bloody punctures, but this was the only one still breathing.  And staring at Samie, goggle-eyed, as if the devil himself was tryin’ to crawl up his arse.

“How’s shit, Crawford?” Samie broke out a humourless, extremely toothy smile. “Y’look fuckin’ terrible.”

Crawfig’s mouth flapped uselessly beneath his rodent face, his Adam's apple bouncing like a ball on elastic.  It took him a few moments to manage words - and by then, Samie had already confirmed his own suspicion.  The body next to Crawdie - the one with a hole in their chest so fresh that the blood was still running, brightly crimson - was State too.  The firefight had sounded odd because the fucking guns were the same.

Hells’ fuckin’ teeth; they’re even shootin’ each other now.

“Y-you... this - th-this isn't…” Crawford’s voice was shaky, but it was a lot more coherent than Samie might have expected, given how much of the wine he’d downed.  Then again there were yellowish stains down the front of his suit and he smelled of vomit beneath the fear. Maybe the knockout didn’t kick in if the damn stuff hadn’t touched the sides coming back up, either.

“Now - ” Samie shoved the remains of the barricade aside, wood splintering around his fingerclaws. “I know y’like to chat on, but it has been a fuck of an evening, and I am runnin’ very low on patience.” He crouched down beside the skinny man - who was propped up against the fallen shape of some ornamental black vase - and leaned in further.  Crawboy flinched at the proximity, but to his credit he didn’t look away.

“What the fuck is goin’ on?”

“Betrayal.” It was a tight word, halted in pain, and Samie realised as he spoke that Crawford had one hand clasped tightly against his ribs, with a darker kind of stain creeping around the edges of his fingers.  Crawford’s gaze flicked towards the crumpled figure at his side.  He licked his cracked lips and squeezed his eyes closed as he continued.

“There - have always been - factions.  Dis-disagreements in the - p-p-plan - but this… this…” His other hand jerked up, grasping at something around his neck, and pulled a small metal shape out from its shrouding fabric.  Samie found himself staring at a small version of the same eye-symbol that the boy had had tattooed on his face, this one threaded on a length of polished chain.  Crawford clutched at it, white-knuckle tight, and his lip trembled.

“I am loyal.  I - I have always been - a Party man.”

“The life an’ soul, I’d say,” Samie muttered, apparently unheard, as Crawford opened his eyes again, squinting towards the broken figures beyond Samie’s bulk.

“They called - us traitors.  Courting corruption, with - aberrants!  As if we - as if I - ” Crawford stopped, suddenly focusing on Samie’s hybrid features, and a wide, mad smile broke onto his own face.  It didn’t look healthy, in all honestly.

“Perhaps... I did not do my - homework on you after all, Abhain.”

“I’m an advanced subject.” Samie carefully reached out, brushing as gently as he could against Crawford’s bloody hand. “Let’s have a look at’cha.”

He didn’t like the snivelly Stateboy, but he was talking, and seemed to be on the bad side of the armoured gobshites who’d been shooting at them. Although he didn't miss the shudder as he eased Crawford’s fingers aside, peeling back wet fabric with careful clawtips. The wound beneath was dark, and raw, an ugly gouge that hadn't breached the muscle.  It looked painful, sure, and bloody, but on Samie’s judgement it wasn’t a lethal hit.

“Startin’ to wonder if your military delinquents can see outa them helmets,” he said, pushing Crawdidle’s hand back into place. “I’m pretty much the proverbial barnside, and I’ve barely been shot at all.”

Crawford looked at him, a whirl of strange expressions riding his features, all too fast to stick.

“When they see you - Abhain - I can promise that they will.”

“Still got that silver tongue in his head, has he?” Fergal’s voice broke the weird moment and Samie realised he had company again a second before Najwa appeared from the other side of the smashed vase. She barely looked at Crawford, but flicked a gesture between the two sets of dead Stateys.

“You have seen?”

“Yeah. Guess we hope they're too busy shooting at eachother t’bother with us?”

It sounded unlikely, even as he said it, and Najwa didn't respond.  Instead she hoisted herself up onto the lip of the large, artistically-barred window that ran in sections around the room edge, and peered out.  There was a courtyard outside, if memory served - all wide paths in polished concrete and some kinda ugly focal art in the centre - and the path that led back to the central events-building, or whatever it was.  The railway they’d arrived by was on the other side of that, and Samie was a lot less sure where Najwa’s sewer entrance was.

One of the other gold guards had begun once again unmasking the dead State troops and searching for earpieces; she came to the one nearest to Samie, fiddled for a bit, then looked up and said something sharply.  At Najwa’s equally-incomprehsible reply, the guard snapped her fingers at Samie until she got his attention, then tossed a small shape at him. Which he entirely and unsurprisingly failed to catch.

Fergal retrieved the little device and raised an eyebrow at Samie.

“You want it?”

“Not sure it’d stay in right now - ears keep moving,” Samie grunted, glancing over to where Najwa had slid back down and was already in another low, animated conversation.  Fergal shrugged as he pushed the earpiece into place and tilted his head, listening.

“There’s chatter but it's all code, I don't - ow!” he cut off abruptly, clutching at his ear as there was a burst of witchlight and Samie heard the volume spike dramatically.

“- finally one of you has an half-decent signature!”

“Loud.” Fergal yelped, cringing as he yanked the earpiece out again, holding it away from himself. The tiny radio gave a tinny sigh.

“Oh pardon; oh yes, because I do not have a thousand other worries over your delicate ears. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to hack together a scrying circuit from this backwards-ass system? No? No, you do not, and I - ”

“Merci, Isuanai.” Fergal’s composure settled again.  “This is Fergal Callaghan, Abha- ”

“Yes. I know,” the voice continued irritably. “Who else would you be?  Every other idiot in this country dégénéré is hardly above background.  You finally connect yourself and you light up like a firework.  How many are you?  I am trying to get an eye, but the connards have killed their own cameras.”

Fergal hesitated - just for a second - and his gaze flicked back to Crawford before he answered.

“Nine.  I’ve… made some friends.”

“Is that not your job?” The voice retorted, then audibly clicked their teeth. “I have the courtyard; cannot see inside.  You are clear now, but there are more enroute.”

“Thank you,” Fergal replied, then frowned. “Where are you, Isuanai?  We can - ”

“I am… safe,” the voice cut him off sharply, irritation clear again even in the tinny tones. “Go, and go now.”

“Never argue with a ‘Swan,” Samie muttered, mostly to himself, as Fergal hurriedly explained the situation to the others.  After a quick, very gesture-heavy discussion between the golden guards, they started for the wide doors at the room’s other end; the Ambassadors supporting each other, Crawford slung over Samie’s wide shoulder like a whimpering backpack.

We’re gettin’ on better than at that fuckin’ party, anyway.

They had eyes, and comms, and almost the outline of an entire plan.  Now here was just hoping their luck held out.

And it did - for a whole ten minutes.

Then the shooting started.

 -