#hawkeye fic

[quietlyimplode]

the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 19 - A floral bouquet

Warnings: child abuse, nightmares

Word Count: 1.7k (gif not mine)

Summary: after Clint proposes, they both need time to recover and recuperate.

A/N: this is completely unread, forgive the mistakes bound to be embedded. I don’t have the energy to read it though.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

2011

IOWA

Recovery time is granted as a courtesy and requirement. It sets Natasha’s teeth on edge but even she can see that Clint needs it.

She wants the next assignment, the almost dying part not really phasing her. She’d almost died many times before.

If she was a cat, she would have used her nine lives by now. It doesn’t mean the panic for Clint doesn’t permeate into her dreams.

She dreams that she can’t breathe, and wakes up gasping, when she gets back to sleep, she watches Clint gasping for breath.

She performs CPR only to break his ribs and watch him die anyway.

It’s disconcerting and always results in her focusing on him sleeping into the hours of the morning.

He comments that she looks tired, but she always retorts that he does too.

.

There’s a cabin south of Iowa, he invites her to, she knew he had it but they’d never been able to go.

The dainty log cabin smells musty when they arrive, but as soon as it’s aired out, Natasha takes in all the details.

Surrounded by trees, the cabin is four rooms, a kitchen and main room all together, a bedroom and a bathroom.

There’s wood everywhere; bow and arrows on the walls, and a shot gun for good measure. He watches her surveil the place and stands in place, waiting for her assessment.

“Whatddya think?” he smiles.

“Did you make these arrows?” she asks in awe, touching them and continuing to look around.

“Yeah,” he nods, “the bow too.”

The wood fire sits inert and Clint promises to light it at night.

“Come for a walk,” he offers, taking her hand and leading to her to the door, “the weather is good and we can gather some wood.”

Natasha smiles and grabs her jacket as they head out.

The lake surrounds, birds chirping and flowers line the path they take.

It’s renewing in a way she’s never felt before; maybe that the air feels fresher than in the city, and whilst since they’d been released from hospital, breathing had been a little more labored, it feels like it can loosen off.

“Pick some flowers,” Clint prompts, “I’m going to get some twigs and kindling.”

It feels like an odd request, but Natasha follows it, starting with small flowers, pink ones that have tiny petals, she then finds some white ones, cutting them cleanly with her switchblade. She moves away from Clint and finds other flowers, longer ones that look like bells, the purple blending with the others as she traverses around the lake.

The yellow flowers spread everywhere, and she chooses them more selectively. Large petals, and smaller cone shaped ones.

As she heads back up the incline, Clint calls for her to come over.

“This one too?”

The delicate blue wildflowers were small, easy to pick and went well with the bunch that Natasha had picked

“They were my mums favourites,” she smiles.

She holds the bunch up for his approval and he smiles.

“Perfect,” he tells her.

They walk back, conversation easy, light gossip and commenting on the world around.

“Do you think it will storm tonight?” Natasha asks.

Clint shrugs, opening the door and allowing Natasha to enter first.

“Maybe, depends if the temperature drops, then you’re in for a chance.”

They both go about unpacking some food and Natasha starts cooking and cutting vegetables.

He sets about lighting the fire then puts her flowers in water and smiles as he places the forget me nots to the front.

“Tell me about her,” Natasha asks, “your mother? What was she like?”

There’s a beat of silence before Clint acquiesces.

“She loved nature. I think we would have got an animal if it wasn’t for him. I think she knew that if we did it would become another thing for him to destroy or use against us, but she made it up in other ways.”

He moves to the kitchen to help her, grabbing a carrot and chewing on it.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t —“

He waves her off.

“Nah, I want to, otherwise she just lives in my memories, and I’d like her to live in yours too,” he smiles, crunching down.

“She had brown hair, maybe a bit shorter than you, smart but in a clever way. Not book smart I think, as she struggled to read, but the way she could deduce and read people was easy. It always made me wonder how she ended up with my father.”

Natasha turns the portable gas heater on, and passes him the chicken for cooking.

“Did she like to cook?”

Clint laughs.

“No, not at all, we would eat the same thing over and over, meat and vegetables, or potatoes; there were lots of potatoes.”

He takes onions and places them in the pan.

“Barney liked to cook,” he says a bit more softly, “he’d take over from my mother when my father wasn’t home. He loved making sauces and mixing flavours.”

The sizzle on the chicken is loud and so the next words feel more for him than anything else.

“He found Barney once, cooking with my mother looking on, yelled and ranted that it was women’s work. He threw the hot saucepan at him and burnt him across the arm, here,” he says gesturing to his forearm.

“Barney still liked to cook, but was just more careful about how he did it after that.”

Natasha stands next to him.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him.

“It’s okay, I was telling you about her, not him.”

Clint puts the next piece of chicken on the small fryer.

“She liked stories, any stories. So I’d tell her them from school, also, Gus; he had the best stories, so I’d tell her them too. I think she liked to think about them, maybe they helped in some way.”

Natasha takes over the fryer, motioning to the cooked meat for cutting.

“She could be forgetful, and told me things usually more than once, but I didn’t mind. She had the kind of voice that when she spoke you’d listen regardless of what she was saying.”

He stops cutting and thinks.

“I think she would have liked you,” he says generously.

Natasha looks to the pretty little flowers.

“Yeah. I think I would have liked her too.”

.

The distinct smell of the wood fire brings Clint out of his nightmare. The disorientation makes him freeze on the spot dampening his breathing so that he doesn’t wake Natasha.

He ruminates on the images the dream produced, the dodging of beer bottles before one caught him, the way he was small and his father was big, and his mothers face, blood coming out of her mouth and the familiar bruise covering her cheek and throat.

He sorts the images and finds the truth in the lies, then separates it further, smelling and grounding himself with Natasha’s gentle breathing and the smell of the fires.

He’d hoped talking about her would be cathartic, and in a way it was. He’d just not anticipated the memories it produced.

He sighs wanting to get up but knowing it would wake Natasha.

If they get married, he’s not going to become like him. He’s not his fathers son, he is his mother’s though.

He pulls out his phone and googles how far it is to visit her and settles back down with a plan for the next day.

.

The grave reads Edith’s name, the date of her birth and death and words that read ‘beloved mother’.

The fact that she has a headstone at all is something Natasha can’t help but comment on.

“The circus helped us pay for it, it came about a year and a half after her death, maybe 6 months we’d both been there. We agreed to work for free to get it done.”

Gently, Natasha moves the moss and Clint pulls the weeds around it.

It takes them some time but they clear it and make it neat in its appearance.

Natasha pulls the little bouquet of forget me nots she’d picked and places them down.

Clint hugs her and they stand side by side in silence.

.

The ride home is comfortable, soft country music playing as Clint taps his finger to the beat.

“Do you think my mother has a grave?” Natasha asks, a question she’s never thought to think.

Clint reaches across and holds her hand.

“I hope so,” he says, squeezing it.

“Maybe she had a sister or someone to lay some flowers at her grave too,” she hopes.

Clint nods.

“Maybe she’s hanging out with my mother, wherever they may be.”

Natasha smiles, then laughs.

“They’d tell lots of stories to each other I think,” she says.

“My mother would like that,” he nods.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks, squeezing his hand.

“I know you had… dreams last night, but do you think this will make sleep hard as well? Can I do anything?”

Clint shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe? Nothing you can do, but maybe we can play a game or watch a movie together before sleeping.”

He sighs.

“It’s been a long day.”

Natasha nods, opening the window then closing it with the smell.

It breaks the mood and he laughs.

“Cows are certainly an acquired smell,” he grins.

.

“She liked magic too,” Clint offers, the movie finishing.

“Can I show you some?”

Natasha feels a curl of excitement.

Giving him her full attention, he produces a bunch of flowers.

It makes her burst out laughing.

“Can you do it again?”

He pulls a coin from her ear and then makes the flowers disappear again.

She takes the coin and rolls it over her fingers.

Clint nods in approval.

He smiles again.

“One more.”

From her ear, he produces two rings.

“I know we were dying, and that you may have just said yes—“

She doesn’t even let him finish.

“I want to marry you Clint Barton,” she tells him, taking the rings off him and examining them carefully.

Both of them thin, one with a red ruby and the other larger in size but just as thin, the metal infused with a purple hue.

“They’re for us, like your necklace, no one has to see them.”

He loves that she puts it on straight away, kisses him again and then tries to imitate the magic trick.

“Teach me,” she requests, “show me how to do magic just like you do.”

.

[ynscrazylife]

How abt a Clint Barton imagine where reader teaches him how to rollerblade?

teaching clint how to rollerblade (clint barton x reader, can be read as romantic or platonic)

When you suggested that the Avengers go to a rollerblading rink as a team-building exercise, Clint was quite sheepish to admit that he didn’t know how to rollerblade. Natasha burst out laughing at him (because he was so skilled, yet couldn’t get the hang of rollerblading??), as did the rest of the team, but you took pity on him and offered to teach him. Rollerblading was your thing and Clint was your friend, so it was perfect.

He insisted on only going to the rink after hours. The last thing he needed was a video to surface on the internet of Hawkeye slipping and falling on his butt. It took a little convincing of the rink’s employees, but you were their favorite customer, so you succeeded in the end.

You prided yourself on being a good teacher but . . . Clint made it difficult. He was huffing, puffing, and whining everytime he failed to get the hang of it. He did fall more than once and glared, grumpy, when you laughed. You did your best to cover your mouth but c’mon, it was funny!

Natasha also bribed you with money to get some videos of Clint slipping and falling, so you had to do that. The moment when Clint actually got the hang of rollerblading was when he saw you filming him. It was if he was a mother getting enough adrenaline to lift up a car off her kid — he jumped up from the floor and lunged at you.

“No!” You squealed as you tried to turn away. Clint grinned maniacally as he wrapped his arms around your midsection, dragging you back.

“You’re gonna delete that video,” Clint demanded.

“I don’t think so—ahh!” You yelped as Clint knocked into you, sending the both of you sprawling onto the floor.

“You are the worst student,” you grumbled to Clint.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Yeah, yeah. You’re not a bad teacher,” he mumbled.

[cavillanche]

Take Me Out (Kiss Cam Clint)

Your best friend, Clint Barton, takes you to a ballgame. What happens when the kiss cam won't leave the two of you in peace?

Rated T ~1,200 words

------------------------------------------

It wasn't often that a mission ended early, without complication. No one was injured, there was no long debriefing. Everything had gone smoothly, and Fury gave the team the rest of the time off.

Clint knocked on your door and held up two tickets.

"What are those?"

He sang "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" as he swayed his hips side to side, and you laughed.

"Come in."

"You up for some baseball?"

"What happened to your mission?"

"All done. I'm free for a few days. Last time we talked you said you'd never been to a live game, so..." He waved the tickets and you grabbed for them, but he pulled them away. "Get dressed. Game starts in an hour."

--

You scanned the stadium in awe. It was so much bigger than it looked on television. The sun on your face, the smell of the popcorn, the grass... it was an experience all its own.

Clint led you to your seats, right behind the home team's dugout.

"These seats are amazing."

"Working for SHIELD has its perks."

Once seated, Clint crossed his ankle over his leg and threw his arm around your shoulders. You leaned into his casual embrace and munched on some popcorn.

The two of you cheered and booed along with the crowd as the game progressed. You both moved around, but Clint always found his way back to having his arm around you. It was a default position for you, a comforting connection between two best friends.

As the eighth inning ended, the kiss cam started again. The two of you laughed and awed at the couples on screen until the camera landed on you. Clint shook his head and slashed across his throat with his hand, and you laughed.

"Not dating," he said.

The camera moved on, but came back to you and Clint.

He shook his head again. "Not dating," he said louder.

"You know they can't hear you, right?"

"They apparently don't understand a head shake, either."

When the camera didn't move on, Clint sighed and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. The crowd around you clapped, and the camera moved on, but was soon on you and Clint again. He let out a low growl.

"Oh, son-of-a-bi—"

Clint grabbed your face in both hands. His last word still clung to his lips as they met yours, leaving his mouth open just a little. You laughed as the crowd around you cheered, but then there was a shift. Clint's lips pulled away just a bit before pressing more firmly, and his thumb brushed your cheek. The sounds of the crowd faded as you kissed him back, pressing a hand to his chest and sliding it up to his neck.

Clint pulled away just enough to break the kiss and look into your eyes. You could almost see the wheels in his head turning. He leaned back in his seat and put his arm around you again. As you settled against him he kissed your temple and whispered.

"We'll talk later."

You could only nod.

Your mind kept drifting back to the kiss for the rest of the game. You'd never looked at Clint as more than a friend. Obviously he was attractive, sexy even, but he was Clint.

But that kiss. Something changed. When you looked into his eyes after that kiss you saw more than a friend. He was suddenly more than Clint, the goofy, sarcastic buddy that never let you down. He was Clint, the man you wanted to kiss you again.

But he went back to watching the game.

You were thankful you'd taken his motorcycle to the stadium. There wouldn't be any awkward silence on the ride home.

The awkward silence came as he followed you up to your apartment. You let him inside and went about putting away your things before he finally spoke.

"Why haven't we done that before?"

You shrugged. "You've never shown up on my doorstep with tickets before."

"Not the damn ballgame."

You glanced at him before looking back at the floor. He was standing there with his baseball cap in his hands, fiddling with the edges.

"The kiss." He whispered your name and took a step closer to you. "Why haven't we done that before?"

"Because friends don't kiss that way."

Clint nodded. "No, I guess they don't."

He tossed his hat onto the coffee table and grabbed your wrist, then he pulled you against his chest.

"What are you doing?"

"Ending our friendship."

Clint moved in slowly as he spoke, giving you time to stop him if you wanted to, but you didn't want to stop him. His eyes searched yours until your lips met, then you melted into him. You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer, and he sighed into your mouth.

He cupped your face in his hands, deepening the kiss before he wrapped you in his arms.

"We're stupid," you whispered against his lips.

"Idiots."

He backed you toward the sofa and lay you down, his hips settling between your legs in a way that made you moan.

"Shit," he breathed out as he buried his face in your neck. "That sound."

You kissed his neck and shoulder until he pulled back and stared down at you.

"Let's slow down," he whispered.

"What?"

"Our entire relationship changed with that kiss. Let's not jump in head first."

"Second thoughts?"

He cupped your face with one hand and brushed his thumb over your cheek.

"Sweetheart, every part of me is screaming to keep going." He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "But I don't want to wreck what we already have."

"Me either."

"I love you too much to mess this up."

You could only grin, your cheeks burning.

Clint chuckled. "Are you blushing?"

"It's stupid."

"Tell me."

You hesitated.

"Tell me, or I'll find that ticklish spot on your side and—"

"Ok! Ok." You still hesitated.

"Well?"

"You told me you love me."

"I've told you that a bunch of times."

You covered your face. "I know. It's just—"

Clint pulled your hands away. "What?"

"It felt different."

"Maybe it was."

You ran the tips of your fingers over his lips.

"I love you, too."

You barely had time to move your fingers from his lips before he kissed you. His hand rested on your hip, squeezing just enough to pull a whimper from you.

"I never thought we'd be doing this."

Clint ran his nose along yours. "It feels like the most natural thing in the world."

"It really does."

He shook his head. "Absolute idiots. The both of us."

You laughed, and Clint sat up, pulling you with him.

"Have dinner with me tonight."

"Weren't we doing that anyway?"

"Yeah, but that was dinner with best-friend-Clint. You've never had dinner with boyfriend-Clint."

"Boyfriend?"

"Too soon?"

"Not at all." You smiled, and Clint actually blushed. "Ok, boyfriend-Clint. It's a date."

[theflashzoom]

HAWKEYE : NSFW Profile

Rating: Mature

Category: M/F

Relationship: Clint Barton x Reader

Words Counts: 623

Character: Clint Barton, Reader

Summary:

🏹Clint has a target and he knows where he wants to point his loads of shots into your favorite spot.🎯

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

Fandom: Hawkeye (2021), MCU

Title: Your Mess Is My Mess (That's What Family Is For)

Chapter: 2/2

Pairings/Relationships: Clint Barton & Kate Bishop

Fic summary:

After Kate spends Christmas and New Year's Day at the Barton's farm, it's time to go back to her old life. When her mother's trial comes just around the corner, she doesn't know whether to reach out for her partner's support or deal with her family drama alone.

Chapter summary:

Clint's POV of the story

Sooooo this chapter only exists because I had some scenes in my head that were from Clint's POV that I wanted to include but ultimately dropped from chapter 1 when I decided it should be Kate's POV only. It has basically everything the first chapter has but told through Clint's eyes + some bonus content!

Enjoy!

For my Clint & Kate enjoyers @skoulsons and @legendsofentity

[finnicks]

( fic ) two immovable stones

two immovable stones

mcu (hawkeye) | yelena/kate + lucky; teen, 200 words Kate does her best not to disturb Yelena and Lucky as they sleep.

[nhasablogg]

Would you be open to writing a platonic Kate and Clint fic where Kate is feeling alone for the holidays so Clint shows her she still has family? Maybe Kate can retaliate after and tickle Clint and then Clint can get her back

Words: 650

It took Kate three beers, one sappy Christmas movie and a bowl of buttered popcorn to realize the ache in her chest was due to homesickness and not exhaustion. Iowa was a well-known cold, but it wasn’t as busy as New York, and so it didn’t provide them with the warmth that rushing around did. She kept shivering under her blanket.

“I’m just tired after everything,” she’d told them, but as the kids went to bed one by one on Christmas Day, she discovered she had no desire to sleep.

Clint and Laura lingered so obviously for her sake, but she kept her eyes on the TV screen, refusing to let them worry about one more person this holiday season. When Laura finally left with a squeeze to her arm, Kate felt herself relax just a little.

“Are you sure the couch will work?” Clint asked for the second time that night. “Nate can sleep with us, it’s fine-”

“No, no, I’m okay! I promise.” She patted the cushion. “The couch will be fine, don’t worry.”

He hummed. Clint had been a kinder version of his snarky self since they’d arrived, sprinkled with such loving smiles directed at his family but also sometimes at her that Kate had no idea how to react. She wasn’t surprised when he sat down beside her now, although she was when she found she didn’t mind it.

“The kids adore you,” he said, not looking at her as he spoke. “As does Laura.”

“And you?” She grinned at him, but found that something in her cared more about his reply than she cared to admit.

He huffed out a laugh. “You’re a pain in my ass.” Something softened when he met her gaze. “But you’re growing on me.”

“Oh, I knew you were sappy underneath all that snark,” she said, poking his side automatically and finding it very interesting when he flinched. “Oho.”

But Clint, a superhero after all, was quick to turn and grab her wrists. “Don’t you dare.”

She jutted out her chin. “Or what?”

“I’ll have you regret it.”

“I’d like to see you try.” She tried to slip her wrists out of his grip, but he held on firmly, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to not give her any room to escape unless she gave it her all. “Hey-”

Clint was also a dad, which he proved when he let his fingers flutter over her own vulnerable side so skillfully he had to be doing this on the daily. She was surprised by the sound that left her lips, something loud and desperate, much too similar to a giggle for her liking.

“Ah, this could land you in trouble,” he said, as if he himself hadn’t shown signs of sensitivity just a moment prior. “Better teach you how to endure it.”

“Stop,” she choked out, twisting and failing to escape his unbearable touch. She hadn’t been tickled in years and wasn’t sure how to react to it.

“See this as an opportunity to learn. Can you overpower me? Escape? Counterattack?”

“Oh my god, shut up- no!”

He’d left her side and started prodding her belly. Kate regretted having shed her sweater, but it was hot in here and her t-shirt was thin enough that it almost felt as if he was touching bare skin. She dissolved into something more hysterical, something even louder, which made Clint place his palm against her lips.

“You’ll wake the whole house,” he said, laughing as his fingers stilled.

“I don’t see how that’s my fault.”

“Eh, fair enough.” He let go of her wrists and she rubbed at her midriff to get rid of the ghost tickles. “That’s a cute laugh you got there.”

“I’ll punch you,” she threatened, but she felt warm with a sudden surge of joy. Maybe this wasn’t her biological family, but she felt safe this holiday season. Clint had made sure of that.

[starshipsofstarlord]

❥ clint barton masterlist ❥ main masterlist

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓅, 𝐵𝒶𝓇𝓉����𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝑅𝑜𝓃𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓅𝒶𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝓋𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓃’𝓈 𝓌𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒽. 𝐼𝓉 𝒾𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒩𝒶𝓉𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂, 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> 𝒞𝓁𝒾𝓃𝓉 𝐵𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑜𝓃 𝓍 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒩𝑒𝓊𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓁 𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽, 𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉, 𝓊𝓃𝓇𝑒𝒸𝒾𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒸𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈, 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝑒𝓍

𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐲, 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐢𝐭, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭. 𝐑𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲, 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞'𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐭, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫, 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬. 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞.

𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫, 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐈𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐎𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞, 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞’𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲.

𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐱 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐀 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧. “𝐘/𝐧.” 𝐀 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥; 𝐢𝐭’𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐟 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬. “𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?”

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐧. 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲. 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥. 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. “𝐖𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭 - 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤.” 𝐈𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧.

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭. 𝐈𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐞𝐥, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨. “𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞.” 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢�� 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 ��𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐩, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝. 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐭, 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮. “𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭.” 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝. “𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐞?" 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐭, 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐚; 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲, 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞'𝐬 𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒.𝐇.𝐈.𝐄.𝐋.𝐃 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

"𝐘/𝐧…" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐦𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭. 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞’𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞’𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐞𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. “𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞- 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞. 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈’𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥.” 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥.

“𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲. 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥; 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐏𝐲𝐦 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞, 𝐝𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 - 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐈’𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧. 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.” 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐑𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭; 𝐡𝐞’𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬’ 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭.

𝐀 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐇𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭, 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐥 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧; 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞-𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.

𝐈𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐲𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭; 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐱𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬! 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞. 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐒.𝐇.𝐈.𝐄.𝐋.𝐃 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐩𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞-𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 -𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧.

"𝐎𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲/𝐥/𝐧." 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭���𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰. 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭, 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫, 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫, 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝.

𝐇𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐲 𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 '𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧', 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐨. 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞; 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐭𝐡 - 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨.

[mitchpell]

The Ghost of Christmas Past

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen Fandoms: Hawkeye (TV 2021), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Relationships: Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Cooper Barton & Laura Barton & Lila Barton & Nathaniel Pietro Barton Characters: Clint Barton, Lila Barton, Cooper Barton, Nathaniel Pietro Barton, Laura Barton Additional Tags: Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Pre-Episode: s01e01 Never Meet Your Heroes (Hawkeye), Christmas Vacation, Deaf Clint Barton, Hard of Hearing Clint Barton, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Drama, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter #14: Rogers: The Musical

“Why are we a— but hand in here?” Nate asked with a slight whine, as he tugged at Clint’s hand, swinging it back and forth. “Why can’t we go in wide?”

“Or day pageant opened —e door- yet, Honey,” Coop replied.

Clint snapped his head around, turning from where he’d been assessing the crowd to shoot his eldest a look.

“What?” Cooper asked, a smile stretching across his face as he feigned innocence.

“Nothing,” Clint replied, shaking his head. “I just—don’t tease your brother.”

Nate wrapped his arms around Clint’s waist at that, peeking his head around to stick his tongue out at his brother.

“What wine are day code to open —e door-?” Lila asked, shifting her weight.

“What time?” Clint asked. “I, uh, I don’t know,” he told her as he fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up their tickets. “It doesn’t say on the tickets, but it shouldn’t be long now.”

“I hope not,” Lila muttered.

“Why?” Clint asked. “I mean, aside from the obvious.”

“Becau-e her beet hurt in grow ridiculou- boot-,” Cooper chimed in, smugly.

“Shut up, Cooper,” Lila groused.

“Coop,” Clint admonished. “Could you please stop antagonizing your siblings, for like five minutes?”

“Are we,” Cooper grumbled, looking sullenly down at his shoes.

“Are we what?” Clint asked testily, trying not to lose his patience.

“Huh?” Cooper asked, looking up sharply, confused. “I read been tardy.”

Clint stared at him, trying and failing to figure out what he was missing.

“Sorry,” Cooper repeated a little hotly, rubbing his first roughly against his chest as he signed.

Clint shook his head, looking up to the stars and asking for the patience he wasn’t quite sure he could muster. “Do your feet hurt?” he asked Lila as he turned his attention back to her.

“A britt—,” she admitted, a blush reddening her cheeks.

“Momma warned you about getting those boots,” he reminded her. “That you were going to regret those heels.”

“I know, but,” she shrugged, shifting once again. “I bike —e hee—. Aunt Nat wood had include but —e hee—.”

Clint smiled despite himself, letting out a soft chuckle. “Aunt Nat was hardly an authority on practical footwear.”

“Yeah, but she wa- intent need —e majority on tile,” Lila shot back, with a smile of her own.

He was spared the hassle of trying to decipher that statement by the opening of the theater doors. “Here we go,” he announced somewhat unnecessarily.

“Ivory,” Nate muttered, as the four of them started slowly making their way into the Lunt-Fontanne Theater.

Continue Reading on AO3

[marvelandimagine]

Clint Barton Masterlist

A Little Help From My Friends : [Request] Bucky and the reader are best friends, she’s an enhanced soldier and their favorite thing to do is speak in other languages around the team because they can’t understand them -cept Nat ofc- and Bucky keeps teasing and pestering her about her crush on Clint 

Love Can Heal: [Request] Clint is training you to use a bow and arrow and every time he touches you to help, you flinch and back away and he doesn’t know why. 

Drabbles

Regret

[sun-daisies]

fic snippet | hawkeye | roost chapter 2

since ao3 is down for who knows how long I figured I’d dig through some abandoned wips and post some snippets of fics I love but never got to share. feel free to do this too - we can keep each other going until ao3 is back up and running!

It’s not until later, much later, that Yelena even thinks about going back upstairs, back to her sister’s room. She’s avoided it long enough, after all, and she knows if she doesn’t start going through Nat’s things, she never will. 

Yelena is cut from marble and blood; she is sharp-edged broken glass. This should not be the thing that breaks her. 

And yet it does.

Natasha’s old room is exactly as she left it. Just a week ago, had Yelena known this fact she’d think it was a sadistic joke - trophies from Clint’s greatest kill. Now, Yelena understands that it’s entirely the opposite. That Clint and Laura probably couldn’t bear to come back in here, to clean up what Nat had left behind. The sickening churning feeling in their stomachs when they glanced in the room, how they had to keep the door shut because out of sight, out of mind. The dust sitting on all of Natasha’s belongings because it felt too wrong to move anything, to touch anything. The fear that if they did, it would all disappear, and with it the last of Natasha. 

There is so much of her in this room. So many things that the assassin kept, scattered throughout the room. Receipts from a shawarma restaurant. SHIELD issued t-shirts, threadbare and faded. Photos with the Avengers. News clippings. The sight of it all is overwhelming. She saved so many people. She touched so many lives. She cared about everyone so deeply, and they all got to love her. They all had so much time with her. 

It’s hard to not imagine what could have been. If she hadn’t been left behind in the Red Room. If Natasha had taken her with her. 

If she had only had more time. 

Yelena’s chest aches. She’s rotting from the inside out - anger and guilt and frustration and loathing and nostalgia and sadness eating her alive. She should have been there. She could have stopped it. Why couldn’t it have been her? Why did Natasha have to die? Why did the world take her so soon? Why didn’t Barton fight harder? Why was Nat so fucking stubborn? 

And she hates herself for how she feels. She loathes that she can’t just be grateful for the time she did have with Natasha. For those feelings of abandonment that still rise up with every old news clipping, every story the Bartons tell. Lila Barton got to love Natasha before she did. While Natasha had the Avengers, Yelena was still in the Red Room, killing to survive. Fury and shame burn in her lungs. She can’t change the past, and yet here she is, ruminating in it, mourning what never had a chance to be. 

How fucking pathetic. 

 Yelena is marble and blood and broken glass. She killed the girl who slept in the bed next to her when she was nine. 

And yet, here she is, clutching a decade-old receipt for some cheap Mediterranean restaurant to her chest and sobbing.

A strangled, wet laugh escapes her at the absurdity of it all. 

A knock on the door breaks her from her thoughts. Swiping the tears away with her thumb, she calls, “Yeah?” 

The door creaks open, and Yelena can’t bring herself to turn around. 

“Yelena, sweetie, dinner’s ready if you’re hungry.” 

Laura’s voice is tender, hopeful. Yelena’s stomach is tied in knots, something awful clawing at her throat. 

“No thank you,” she mumbles, her fingers curling tighter around the receipt. 

Laura doesn’t say anything in response. She shuts the door behind her and slowly crosses the room, sitting down on the ground next to where Yelena is hunched over and opening up her arms. There’s ample time for Yelena to protest, to tell her to leave, to pull away. 

She doesn’t. Instead, Yelena leans against Laura’s shoulder, her face crumpling all over again as a fresh new wave of tears come streaming down her cheeks. 

Laura’s touch is foreign, but welcome. Comforting, even, as she holds her gently, as she rubs her arm with her thumb. 

She thinks maybe she’s felt like this once, when fireflies were forest stars and pain was scraped knees and purple-splotched shins. Melina’s hugs were always a bit hesitant at first, like she was unsure or unfamiliar, but she always held Yelena like she was afraid of her slipping away, like she could shield her from the world if she tried hard enough. 

“You all had so much time with her.” Yelena’s voice is a ghost in her lungs. She’s not sure why she feels inclined to fill the silence. Laura hums in response, an invitation for Yelena to keep going, to say whatever it was she needs to. Something about Laura’s presence makes it feel like it’s okay to talk about it, like it’s safe to grieve. “I just- I wish I had more time.” 

A pocket of silence hangs in the air for a moment; Laura waits to make sure Yelena is finished speaking before murmuring, “I don’t think any amount of time would have been enough.” 

Yelena sniffles, burying her face in Laura’s shoulder. She hasn’t felt this small in ages; hasn’t allowed herself to feel this vulnerable since she was young. “It’s not fair,” she mumbles, and she hates how pitiful she feels.

But Laura nods. “No,” she agrees. “It’s not.” 

“Sometimes I wish things were different,” Yelena admits, the words tumbling like a waterfall. She makes no effort to contain them. “I dream every night about her, about Ohio. I remember-” Air shudders in her lungs. “I remember them taking us, ripping us apart, and I remember the Red Room, and wondering every single day about her. If they- if she-” A sob threatens to wrench its way from her throat. She lets out a slow breath. “The other girls, we did ballet. My hair, it was too unruly for a bun, but this one girl, Alina, she taught me how to slick it back the right way, how to wrangle it into the perfect twist, and one day she-” Yelena stopped herself, squeezing her eyes shut. After letting out another breath, trying to settle her racing heart, she whispers, “I thought about her. Every night. I wondered if they took her, like they did Alina.” 

To her surprise, Laura doesn’t apologize. She doesn’t say anything, and Yelena is grateful. She doesn’t want sympathy. Laura just holds her while she falls apart. 

And they stay like that for a while; silence punctuated with Yelena’s sniffles, Laura holding her and rocking her gently until her sobs subside. Admittedly, Yelena feels a bit better once she lets it all out - a little less like she’s decaying from the inside out and a little more like things could be okay. Maybe. Eventually.

[quietlyimplode]

the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 6 - made to watch

Warnings: violence/physical abuse

Word Count: 1.8k (image not mine)

Summary: Clint and Barney get separated

A/N: <3

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

1999

IOWA

“You can make this easier on yourself,” the detective tells him.

“They’ve sold you down the river, son, left you for dead.”

He leaves the pile of papers in front of Clint, the pictures making him look up and away.

“I don’t think it was you that did that,” he says kindly, “but I can’t help you if you don’t tell us anything.”

Clint looks away.

“You think about it, and I’ll leave these pictures here, okay?”

The detective leaves.

The dead man in the picture is familiar to Clint, having bashed his face in three nights before.

He pushes it away and closes his eyes, trying to remember.

After he punched him, he was sure he was still alive.

He wasn’t the only one after him, the criminal underworld also searching for Degraves. He knows he didn’t… stab him.

But he knows who would have.

The decision becomes whether he tells them or not.

The cold metal of the handcuffs does not feel pleasant against his skin, and he just wants to get back to the circus, find Barney and tell him about Degraves’ death.

He needs to make sure he’s safe.

He supposes he could give them some information, and there’s no harm in telling a portion.

Especially if it gets him out.

There’s no harm in that, right?

“I didn’t kill him,” he says again to the camera, “but I might know who did.”

It’s not immediate, but eventually the door opens.

The detective stalks back in and stares at him.

“Tell me what you know,” he says.

Clint sits back.

“The carnival, we sell magic tricks,” he starts.

“Magic.”

The man is disbelieving.

Clint’s hands are suddenly free of the handcuffs and he raises them up.

“Magic,” he laughs.

The detective startles, and slams Clint’s hands back into the cuffs.

“How did you do that?”

Clint laughs again.

“Magic.”

Now safely back, the detective growls for Clint to continue.

“It’s mostly low level things, but sometimes we get asked to carry somethings.”

Nervously, wondering just how much to expose, Clint sighs.

“Sometimes, they’re not so forthcoming in what they they have us carry.”

Sitting heavily, the detective motions for Clint to continue.

“Degraves hurt my brother,” he discloses, looking down. “Barney just wanted to know what was in the packages, he wasn’t expecting videos of girls.”

The detective asks Clint to stop.

He leaves the room and comes back with an older man. His demeanor seems stranger, older even though likely they’re the same age.

Clint frowns.

“Jus’ let me go, man. I don’t really know anything.”

Sitting down on the spare chair, the man in a trench-coat crosses his legs.

“He hurt my brother, so I punched him a couple of times, but I didn’t kill him. I think that it was people that he had the videos for. Cause Barney destroyed it, you see?”

Clint omits the rest.

The money Barney had hidden, the thousands of dollars that he’d found. He hopes Barney is at their rendezvous, predetermined locations for safety.

If he’s not, maybe he’s at the circus still.

Clint can feel the slow creep of change coming and it feels harrowing to think of.

All those foster homes.

Then came back Gus, with his safety and the circus.

The Swordsman and all his training.

And now this.

“They say you can’t miss,” the man in the corner comments.

Clint doesn’t like his words, the implication that comes with it.

That he knows him, that he knows of him.

It doesn’t feel right.

“I didn’t shoot him,” he repeats.

“I didn’t say you did,” the man retorts, “but I think you have a certain set of skills.”

Clint shrugs.

“I’m good with a bow and arrow,” he replies.

“And a gun?” the man asks.

“I don’t know? I didn’t kill him, okay? Whatever you’re implying, I didn’t kill him.”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m just wondering what you can do.”

“I just want to go,” Clint mutters.

The man stands.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Clint and the Detective say in unison.

“I don’t think you killed him,” he starts, then turns to the detective.

“And you know he didn’t, so let him go. Follow the big money, and I’m sure you’ll get the real killer.”

His words are cryptic and Clint doesn’t understand.

“I have a job for you, Clint Barton, should you want one.”

He smirks.

“Do the handcuff trick again,” he requests, and out of spite for the detective he does.

The man’s laugh is a gaffaw. Loud and exuberant.

He hands Clint a business card, with the word SHIELD emblazoned on it.

“You’d need some training, but I think you’re someone we might need.”

Clint makes the card disappear; rolling his eyes.

The man laughs again.

“Magic, never have to look far to find it huh?”

He leaves with an exit, and Clint looks expectantly at the door.

“Can I go?” He asks the detective, and the man shrugs.

“Unless you have anything else to say?”

Clint shrugs back.

“Then you can go, but know we will be watching you.”

.

Barney greets him at the base of the steps.

“We need to leave,” he tells Clint, his words rapid and low.

He’s sweating and Clint doesn’t understand.

“Where?” Clint asks, hurrying alongside him.

He knows they need to, he feels the hair on the back of his neck stand, the anticipation that something will happen imminent.

“Do you have your stuff in a go-bag?”

Clint shakes his head.

“No?”

Barney sighs heavily.

“What do you need?”

Clint tries to keep up, Barney’s quick walk back to the campsite too fast.

“Why? What did you do?”

Barney glances back, eyes darting and fear passes over his face.

“Barney, what did you do?”

They reach their caravan and Barney tells him to pack, Clint does so haphazardly, his heart sinking as he realises what packing means.

“Barney, what did you do?”

He glances back.

“Did you kill Degraves?”

Barney shakes his head.

“No.”

He glances around, fear in his movements.

“They know, yeah? They know we took the money, and I…” he pauses.

“Swordsman said to give it back, I said I didn’t have it, we got into a fight, and he said I had to leave.”

Clint turns around.

Swordsman isn’t good but he’s kept them both alive.

“Why didn’t you just give him the money? What’s the big deal?”

Barney motions for him to keep going.

“You don’t understand, little brother, we need the money, better in our pockets than theirs. It’s blood money, they are doing some bad things here. I didn’t understand before, but I do now,” he mutters.

Clint doesn’t.

Swordsman fed them, trained them, given them jobs, then when he’d taught Clint how to shoot they became a part of the circus.

A part of something.

Blood money didn’t matter.

All circus money was built on lies and trickery.

Barney knew that.

This was all they had.

Clint’s heart drops.

He doesn’t want to go.

This is the only home that wanted him.

“You’re jealous,” he accuses.

Barney hadn’t really fit in, not really, maybe that was it.

Clint had seen how his stocky frame had not lent itself acrobatics or anything athletic. Barney had been able to do all the behind the scenes, sets and hard labour.

“What?”

“You’re jealous.”

Angry tears prick at Clint’s face as Barney looks at him dangerously.

“Pack up,” Barney challenges, angrily, “or stay here. I need to go.”

The door flies open and Swordsman stands at the hilt.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he bellows at Clint.

Staring at Barney, Swordsman stands up straighter, there’s two more of the crew behind him and pushes Barney out of the small caravan door.

“Give us the money and you can stay,” he growls softy.

“Otherwise, you’re out.”

He turns to Clint, “do you know anything about it?”

Barney stops fighting.

He looks at Clint and sees his hesitation.

It seems in that moment that he understands Clint’s hesitance, his tears and all his fears at once.

That this is the only place Clint fits, that they’ve stayed the longest, and been happy.

Despite everything, Barney understands.

But he can’t stay.

He has enough money to start again.

Clint is old enough to take care of himself.

He nods.

He puts three fingers up for the sign of love high enough for Clint to see, clenches it into a fist, then throws the first punch.

Swordsman rolls with it and throws the next one.

Clint scrambles only to be held back by two crewmen.

“No!” he shouts.

The fight is one sided, Swordsman’s strength and agility far outweighing Barney’s solidity. He dances around him, picking him off.

“No!” Clint yells again.

“Let me go! Stop!” he shouts.

He struggles hard against the two as Swordsman floors Barney with a right hook and an uppercut.

“Barney!”

Clint’s sweating, almost in tears as Barney is beaten, kicked to the ground.

“Leave,” Swordsman growls at Barney. “Leave now, before we start on your brother.”

Barney stands, shaky legs holding him as his swollen face looks to where Clint is restrained.

“What did you do?” Clint sobs, “why would you do it? Just give them the money.”

Clint knows that he can’t stay here, not now, not after this.

The grief at having to move on makes tears fall harder.

“What did you do?” he sobs at Barney’s retreating form, as he stumbles away, Swordsman pulling his gun and shooting into the air.

They let him go and he falls to the ground, spent from fighting and pushing back.

“Why?” he asks Swordsman.

The man turns to him.

“Nobody steals from us.”

He holds his sword out, the gun sitting on top of it.

“You have a choice now, Barton. Stay or go. If you stay, you’re part of it, protected by us. If you go, you have a day to get your affairs in order. But this will be as far as we go.”

The threat of the sword and the visceral memory of his brother being beaten in front of him, decides for him.

He needs to find Barney.

Clint knows the only thing he needs are his bow and arrow, and his watch. The possessions he owns minimal.

Scrambling away, he runs after his brother in the direction he went, losing him in the darkness.

Hours it takes him to return back to the circus to pack his bag.

He wants to call Gus. Tell him what’s happened but he has no way of contacting him.

Clint sucks down the grief.

His brother gone, his makeshift family gone, and any hope he had, all reduced to rubble.

Backpack full, he takes one last look at the circus and walks away.

.

[ynscrazylife]

Kate x teen sister yes yes yesssss okay I don’t really have the best ideas but I second you writing something for that so I’m going to give it a shot and suggest maybe like maybe her sister tries being superhero-like to get kates attention bc she’s been so busy getting into the hero world but like reader obvs isn’t prepared for that kinda stuff and then yeah Kate helps them out from a risky situation and then it’s all nice (albeit a bit of a rant from Kate abt her sisters irresponsibility) and sisterly resolved! Yeah again I’m not good with ideas and don’t usually rec but I love Kate Bishop too much to let it pass

Jealousy, Jealousy

Summary: Your big sister Kate comes to the rescue when your attempt in being a vigilante gets you in trouble.

Warning: Reader gets captured and beat up (not too descriptive)

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

Jealousy was an infectious, suffocating disease . . . And unfortunately, you had caught it.

As much as you tried to help it, over the years, jealousy over older sister had seeped in and invaded you over the years. It was subtle, silent, at first but lately, it was attacking with full force and twisting up your insides. By now you were aware of it, and knew it wasn’t good, but what was there to do about it? You were jealous. It was a fact.

Jealous that she had become a star archer, could fence so well, was a master in martial arts, and got to go off to that fancy, expensive college. You were pretty good at martial arts too, as Kate needed a partner to practice with at home when you guys were younger, but not as good as her. Other than that, you were pretty average at everything else, at least, in your mind, that is.

All this jealously spilled out one day when you were visiting your mother in prison and were updating her on your life. You hadn’t spoken to Kate since finding out she had gotten your mother arrested. She tried to explain, but you were too overwhelmed, too shocked, to listen.

You were recounting to her how of course Kate had become a superhero and was working with the one and only Hawkeye when she interrupted with: “You can be a hero, too, honey.” Her voice was sweet, a little too sweet, but you didn’t pick up on that — wouldn’t notice it until later.

This made you stop and blink. “What?” You asked dumbly.

Eleanor smiled. At the time . . . It seemed sincere. “You want to be a hero, do you not?” She asked with an innocent shrug.

You couldn’t deny that the idea had run through your mind. That kind of job must not only be exhilarating, but also rewarding—getting to help people, change the world, and work with other heroes. Work with Kate. Get closer to her. It was the perfect opportunity to bond with her, though you shoved that feeling aside. Why did you have to be the one to reach out to Kate? To get her attention? Couldn’t she reach out to you?

Your mom always had a knack for knowing what you were thinking. “Maybe,” you admitted, suddenly feeling small. You didn’t think anything of it and just wrote it off as anxiety.

“You can be a hero, Y/N . . . You can help me. It’s horrible in here, honey. You can free me,” Eleanor said, moving closer to the glass separating the two of you and putting her hand against it.

You furrowed your eyebrow in confusion, but mirrored her action. “How?” You asked. It never occurred to you that you could help your mom.

“I’ll give you the number of the woman I’ve been working for, Valentina. She could use a smart agent like you. Do some good for her and then . . . You can get Valentina to get me outta here. She’s a little unhappy with me right now, but I know you can show her that none of it was my fault,” Eleanor exclaimed.

It was intriguing — but something felt off. The name Valentina . . . It was familiar. “I think Kate said—” You began.

“Kate’s confused,” Eleanor intervened, a little sharply. When she saw you start to pull back, she quickly continued. “She’s misguided. So is Hawkeye. They misunderstood our work. Valentina can show you—how her agents have helped people. Tell her I sent you.”

If she wasn’t your mother, if she was anyone else, you’d be more suspicious than you were. But you were inclined to trust her, she was your mother. And you and Kate didn’t really get along. So you decided to give it a shot, see if Valentina was really helping people or not.

Of course, when you contacted her, the lies spilled off her tongue so quickly and easily. The proof she showed you — it was an elaborate web of fakes. You were being manipulated, although you didn’t know it at the time, by both your mom and Valentina. You were convinced that you could help both her and innocent people, so you started doing missions for her . . . Which is how you ended up captured by Kingpin’s allies.

You were sitting, tied to a chair with your wrists and ankles handcuffed and duct tape over your mouth, glaring at your captor who was holding your phone. “Let’s see how much you mean to them, dear,” the man mocked, and then proceeded to dial Valentina’s number.

On the last ring, she picked up. “Did you do it?” Valentina asked neutrally.

You watched the man like a hawk as he brought the phone to his lips. “We’ve captured your little agent,” he said gleefully in a sing-song voice.

Your glare sharpened and you heard Valentina curse. “Let’s say . . . 25 grand?” The man said.

You were sure that Valentina had the money, so imagine your surprise when all she did was scoff. Your gaze shifted to the phone, missing how the smile on the man’s mouth grew wider.

“You think I’m going to pay that amount of money for a rookie agent who got herself captured?” Valentina could clearly be heard saying. There was some shuffling, as if she was moving the phone, and then she muttered to someone nearby, making you strain to listen: “I knew she’d never make it if I had to make her believe that she was saving helpless people.”

You could barely believe your ears as you were forced to listen to Valentina mock you, eyes wide and cheeks burning in embarrassment. The man, though, he loved this. He was eating it up.

“You lied to her, then? To recruit her, I suppose?” He guessed, keeping his eye trained on you. You could feel his taunting glare and it just fueled the burning fire inside you.

“It’s none of your business,” Valentina snapped, before forcing a breath. “Look, the girl knows jack shit about me so there’s no use in questioning her—” She laughed. “—just have your fun with her and dump her somewhere, alright? I have no time for this, I’ll get what I want from you another way.”

“We already knew you were interested in us when you sent the girl here — but openly admitting it? That’s bold, especially with who our boss is,” the man said, not paying attention to you anymore.

“Kingpin’s dead, everyone knows that,” Valentina said, and then laughed again. “Have fun with your toy. I know I did, while it lasted.”

With that she hung up, having no clue that you heard all of this. Meanwhile, your mind was reeling . . . How could she give you up like this? What did she mean by you knowing “jack shit”? She told you a lot about herself and her business . . . Unless it was all lies . . .

You let out a muffled, angry scream through the duct tape. You had had an inkling that something was off with your mother’s story — especially about Kate being confused and misguided — since the beginning. Hell, you had been weary of her ever since she had been arrested, as you never knew the full reason why. You had never wanted to know, you still clung to hope that your mother was who she says she is, that your world wouldn’t be thrown upside down like Kate’s was.

Well, now it was definitely on a rollercoaster. Everything was shattering into tiny pieces that you weren’t sure you could put back together, and all you could do was blame yourself. God, you felt so stupid, so useless.

The dread set in when you looked up from where you had been staring at the floor and the man was walking towards you, still smiling like the Cheshire Cat. No one was coming for you.

“We’re gonna have some fun, darling,” he sneered.

It was hours later when you started to hear crashes and bangs. You looked up at the door curiously — what was going on? Who was here? You got answer when the door burst down and, to your surprise, two purple-clad heroes entered.

“Y/N!” Kate cried, immediately running over to you. She removed the tape from your mouth and then undoing your bindings. Clint stood at the doorway, watching silently.

Your eyes widened and you ignored the sting on your lips. God, you never thought you’d be so happy to see her. “Kate . . . How did you know I was here?” You asked — confused, but grateful.

“A friend of ours used to work with Valentina — she has connections and, uh, ways of discovering things,” Kate answered cryptically. Honestly, you didn’t really care about how she found you.

“She lied to me,” you mumbled, shifting your gaze to your lap, embarrassed. “Mom told me that by working with Valentina, I could help people . . . Help her. They both lied to me.”

Kate’s heart broke as she listened to you. Despite your strained relationship, she was your big sister. She’d always look out for you. “Yeah . . . I’m sorry you had to find out the hard way,” she murmured softly, petting your hair to soothe you.

Your gaze slowly found Kate’s. You had expected her to be mad at you for falling for this, but instead all you saw were tears and regret. “I wanted to be a hero like you,” you admitted, shaking your head in disbelief. “I was stupid to think that I could do that.”

“Hey, you can be a hero, Y/N. You just need the right training. Clint helped me become a hero and now . . . We can help you,” Kate assured you.

You just shrugged, still caught up in Valentina’s words. Kate decided to let it go for now, as the last thing you needed was to feel like she was persuading you into something.

“I can already tell you’re a great kid, like your sister. You were brave even to go up against these guys. Let us help you, okay?” Clint said in a soft tone he’d usually use with his kids.

You nodded slowly and Kate smiled warmly. She wrapped her arm around you, supporting most of your weight. Clint came to your other side and they both helped you walk out of there.

You knew it wouldn’t be easy to repair your relationship with Kate, but at least it was a start. You were safe with her and Clint and found yourself leaning into her. She cared for you. She loved you. And you loved her. She was family—your big sister, your protector.

“Thank you, Katie,” you murmured to her as the three of you walked out.

“No need to, Y/N/N,” Kate said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll always be here to save you.”

And so it began — the green envy started to seep away.

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[cavillanche]

Cuddliest Avenger

Kayla has been best friends with Clint Barton for years. He finds her after the battle of New York and takes care of her.

Rated T ~1,600 words

-----------------------------------

As soon as Clint realized that Kayla had been in Stark Tower through the entire battle for New York, he was running through the halls.

"Kayla!"

Tony said the evacuation plan would call for anyone inside to head to a secure basement area. Practically a bomb shelter. Best there was.

He hit the large metal door.

"Kayla!"

Of course she wouldn't hear him. He punched the code into the security panel and the air seal released, allowing him to pull the door open.

"Kayla!"

"Clint?"

His eyes scanned through the crowd in the large room until he spotted her. He exhaled, relieved, and moved toward her until he was able to wrap his arms around her.

"Clint, what the hell is going on out there?"

"I'll tell you about it later. It's over."

He held her at arms length and looked her over.

"You ok?"

"Me? I'm fine. You look like you've been through war."

"I was."

"How bad was it?"

"Bad. Come on." He grabbed her hand and turned to the rest of the group. "Everyone can leave, but prepare yourself... there's a lot of damage up there."

No one moved.

"Come on, guys, let's go. Find your families. Come on."

He started guiding people toward the door, but never let Kayla out of his sight. The thought of her being in the same building as Loki, knowing what Loki was capable of... she would freak out when he told her what happened to him.

Once everyone was out, Clint grabbed her hand again. He led her to the ground floor and outside. She stared, eyes wide, her hand over her mouth.

"Where's Nat? Stark?"

"They're both ok. Got some new faces for you to meet, too. They're finishing up with some cop stuff, then we're heading over to this shawarma place that Tony wants to try."

"Seriously? That's what Tony thinks of after everything that happened that caused this?" She motioned around to the destruction.

"Hey, fighting aliens works up an appetite."

"I'm sorry... fighting what?"

"Later. I promise."

He started to walk away, but she tugged his hand.

"Hey, have you called Laura? Does she know you're ok? I mean, I didn't have a tv down there, but I'm sure this was all over the news."

Clint smiled. "I called. She said to do this when I found you."

He hugged her so tight that her feet came off the ground.

"Right, because Laura can lift me up," Kayla giggled.

"I'm just doing what I was told. Let's go."

Kayla held back tears as they walked down the street. It would take a long time to get the city back to normal.

Clint tried to shield her from the bodies, both human and alien, that littered their path, but it was impossible.

Inside the restaurant, Natasha and Tony sat with a few others. They all looked battered and exhausted. Natasha gave her a weak smile, but no one said a word.

"Hey, guys," Clint said, "this is Kayla." He pointed around the table. "That's Steve, Thor, and Bruce."

Everyone gave a nod. Clint picked up an overturned chair and sat it next to the only empty one at the table left for him. They all ate in silence.

Kayla traced some cuts and scrapes on Clint's arm and he grabbed her hand.

"I'm fine."

"I know."

"So," Thor's booming voice cut through the silence, "Hawk... man—"

"Name's Clint."

"Is this your lady love?"

Kayla and Clint both chuckled, and Natasha shook her head, smiling.

"No, she's not."

"But you're so..."

"Sickening is what they are," Tony said. "I know I thought you two were a couple the first time I saw you together."

"We're just friends," Kayla said.

"Best friends." Clint winked.

"You should just hook up and get it over with."

"Leave them alone, Tony," Natasha said.

"Do I sense jealousy?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Do you know me to be the jealous type?"

"Does anyone really know you?"

She smirked.

Kayla sighed. "Have you seen my apartment building? Is it still standing?"

"No idea. We can go check it out."

"I need to. If it's still there you can clean up. Nat, you want to come?"

"No, I have some things to take care of."

Clint and Kayla stood.

"It was nice to meet you all. Maybe I'll see you again under better circumstances."

As they walked through the streets, Clint kept stopping to help people; pointing them to cops, the relief crew, or checkpoints that were being set up for anyone who couldn't get in touch with their families. Cell towers were either down over overloaded. Kayla helped him when she could.

As they approached her street there was a little less debris, which gave her some hope. Finally seeing her building, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's still in one piece."

"Most of the fighting was centralized a few blocks over. You were lucky."

"Was I? Or did a certain superhero keep those things away from my street?"

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Sure." She punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow. Abuse." He rubbed his arm.

"Such a drama queen."

As they got closer, several guys came out of her building carrying tv's and other expensive items. Kayla slowed her walk.

"That doesn't look good."

Clint wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a quicker pace.

"Stay close."

They ducked inside and took the stairs to the fifth floor. Clint pushed her behind him when he realized a lot of the doors on her floor were open. He notched an arrow into his bow.

"Hold onto me so I know you're there. Keep an eye behind you, though."

They eased down the hallway and Clint checked around her doorframe before entering her apartment. The living room looked fine, but as they rounded a corner to her bedroom Clint raised his bow.

"Put the laptop down."

The man froze at Clint's command. He looked over his shoulder at Clint.

"I've had a long day. I'm not interested in fighting or arresting you, just put that down and get out."

The intruder put the laptop back on the desk. Clint circled around the bed, Kayla still clinging to him from behind, as the man slowly walked to the door.

"I want to hear the front door shut when you leave."

A moment later, there was a slam.

"Stay here."

Clint left the bedroom, arrow at the ready, and came back a minute later.

"All clear. Damn looters."

Kayla threw her arms around him. "I'm so glad you came with me. He could have killed me."

"Nah. He wasn't armed. Just an opportunist."

"Clint, that man was in my apartment. In my bedroom."

"Come here." He pulled her into a hug. "You're ok. You know I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know, but if you hadn't been here—"

"But I was. End of story. And I'm staying. Your lock is broken."

"Great."

"I told Laura I'd likely have to hang around, anyway."

"I have the landline if you want to call her."

"Yeah. She'll be glad to know you're ok."

Clint grabbed the cordless phone from its base and called his wife while he followed Kayla around the apartment. She went through everything to make sure nothing was missing.

"Hey, babe. I'm with Kayla. — Yeah, looters are out. Some guy was in her apartment, so — Yep. That's what I was thinking. You good for a few more days? — Love you. Bye."

Clint put the phone back on the charger.

"Laura says hi, and that she'll kick my ass if I don't stay and make sure you're ok."

"I love that woman."

"Get in line. I'll go move some furniture in front of the door, then I'm taking a shower. I'm covered in all kinds of stuff."

"You could be covered in sewage and I wouldn't kick you out right now."

"Ha! Liar."

"I think I have some of your stuff from the last time you stayed here."

"Great, because this outfit isn't comfortable for sleeping."

After they were both showered, they sat together on the sofa.

"I'm exhausted," Clint said.

"I can't even imagine."

"You must be, too. Adrenaline crash will wipe you out."

"Believe me, once my head hits that pillow..."

"Then why aren't you in bed?"

"The looter has me freaked out. He was in my bedroom, Clint."

"But I'm here. Nothing to worry about."

"Just... the thought of sleeping in there. I feel violated."

"Come on." He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. "Get in. No arguing."

"Clint—"

"What did I just say?"

"Who are you, my father?"

"Get in the bed."

"Fine."

Kayla slid under the covers and lay on her side, then Clint turned out the light. He straightened the comforter, then lay on top of it, and snuggled up close behind her.

"I'll stay until you're asleep."

Kayla took a deep breath. "What would I do without you?"

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer. "You'll never have to find out."

[born-in-the-wrong-multiverse]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Avengers (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Clint Barton/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov (Marvel) Summary:

Clint Barton hasn't always been the best at reading signals. Or flirting. Or knowing when his ego is appropriately inflated and when it's totally uncalled for. There are plenty of women in his life; some he loves, some he barely knows, and some he would call family. But at the end of the day, there's only one that he falls in love with so wholly, he would sign over the deed to his heart so she could care for it in ways he once believed he didn't deserve.

[bisexualdawnsummers]