aubergines | ( #002 ) FAKE MARRIED AU

( #002 ) FAKE MARRIED AU

the 'fake married' meme

be it for a job, in order to get your inheritance or to fool your nosy neighbours, you are pretending to be married. now the question is, do you want it to be real or can you hardly wait for it to be over?

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Ask me one more time and I'm shoving one down your throat. [ She's applying bubblegum-pink lipstick in the rearview mirror, but takes a break to glance over. ] Lit. You know the terms of your deal.

[ Which she doesn't like, by the way. Not one bit. The man's a fucking psychopath, and they're sending him back to his old hunting grounds as a CI? It doesn't matter how valuable he could be as an informant; sooner or later someone's going to end up dead.

Thankfully, her superiors thought the same thing. Less thankfully, they decided that the solution to this problem wasn't to nix the whole operation, but rather to give Vega a tighter leash, and now she's the one in charge of reining him in. It's not the call she would have made, but she wasn't about to turn the assignment down. Not when she's sure a less attentive supervisor might turn this whole thing into an even bigger clusterfuck.

Anyway, that's why she's here, putting on this butt-ugly lipstick, wearing hoop earrings, and getting ready for a truly hellish introduction to some of his old work buddies, with no less than six concealed weapons on her person. All things considered, it might not be that bad for their cover to get blown tonight. At least then she'd get to kick someone. ]

Let's go over this one more time.

[He's thought about it too. But more in the way that he's been utterly afraid of marriage and done everything in his power to sabotage it, to ruin even the possibility. First because he liked his life, he didn't think that he was capable of settling down, not after what happened with that girl and the baby and how Laurel still didn't know. And then because he thought he was better off without any attachments, a fact that his experiences on and off the island have taught him and he's still having a hard time letting that go.

He can't lose Laurel. Not like he's lost Shado and Sara. Their deaths cut like a knife, are scarred over in twist, ugly things but Laurel would be so much worse. Worse than his parents, worse than a child he never met, worse than Tommy.]

Take what you want from the mini-bar at least. It's the least I can do.

[Vic emotionlessly eyes the woman through the rear mirror as he fidgets with his cuffs. As unpredictable as he could be, it was hard to hide how much he didn't want to be here. Vic Vega was no rat. Half the reason he was in prison was because he kept his mouth shut. As much as he had hated jail - he would have done it again. But the reasons were different this time. A lot fucking different.

He Joe Cabot as soon as he was officially made a civil informant. It was a little like sneaking home late at night to your disappointed father. Thankfully Eddie had an idea. They could make something out of this, play both sides. Vic glanced at the bar across the street. Most of his important work buddies were warned and already gone. The low-lifes, however - the degenerates that Cabot was trying to find a way to get rid of, were there. Ready to be handed over to the cops, all thanks to Vic Vega.

A smug smile spread across Vic's face as he remembered. Slowly, he turns back to Rosa.]

You looked better in red. [Lipstick, he meant. Also totally ignoring what she just told him.]

[James chokes on his coffee, too busy coughing and nearly dying to even defend himself to that old Muggle, to say that no. No no no no he's not engaged to this harpy. She's a ginger and she's evil and annoying and a liar apparently, though part of him marvels at how easily she did that.]

I'm British. And a bloody wizard. I can get scones whenever I want.

[But is he protesting any further than to hiss that at her under his breath? No. He clears his throat, fairly certain that he has coffee in his lungs at this point.]

But whatever you want. Darling. Do I at least get a snog for this?

[When push comes to shove, there are few members on the Avengers who are best suited to still go undercover. Steve is too well known now, even with his cowl, and Tony's face is all over the newspapers, magazines, and internet. Natasha may be the best spy of all of them, but in the wake of SHIELD being taken down, her face is known publicly as well. Clint is on assignment, and Thor sticks out like a sore thumb.

In the end, it's Wanda and Bruce who are sent out to Austria. They're told little of their mission, informed before departing that the details would be sent along after them once they confirmed more details. It's better that they establish their cover while they can so they can be prepared to move at a moment's notice. There aren't sent in entirely blind. Wanda's aware there's an auction that may sit at the center of their objective, one that they might only be able to access with her contacts, and a chemical compound or serum of some sort that Bruce should be able to investigate more fully than Wanda.

Knowing that much, Wanda leads Bruce to the elevator in the five-star hotel where they're staying, hand holding his gently. She looks over to him and offers a smile before giving a squeeze. He doesn't have to do much when it comes to maintaining their cover. The contacts are hers, the staff are people she can handle with ease, and so long as he doesn't mind being her arm candy until they can get him to whatever they're ultimately after, everything ought to be smooth sailing. The doors to the elevator close as they step inside, and Wanda exhales lightly.]

I can't say I mind our cover involving staying somewhere in style.

Edited 2014-10-29 02:46 (UTC)

[Did I hear 'both'? I'm pretty sure I heard 'both'!]

Pepper was not panicking. Definitely not. Though the level of her not-panic was almost directly proportionate to the level that she should be panicking.

She knew she had no real reason to panic, after all it wouldn't be the first conference Tony had been to that had run longer than expected, it wouldn't be the first time that he'd had to change travel arrangements last minute, and it definitely wouldn't be the first time he'd forgotten to contact her about either situation.

But at the same time, she was worried, especially with everything that had been happening recently, and because Bruce hadn't been able to go along to keep an eye on him. All of that was what had led to her leaving a voicemail for Rhodey that consisted of: "I'm going to find Tony, I think he's doing something stupid, and I need you to pretend to be my husband so I don't have to go alone, call me."

[ Sometimes Charles forgets that human nature can be cruel as well as kind.

Although, perhaps, forgets is the wrong word. It's hard to forget the cruelties they've all been subject to. It hangs over the Xavier Mansion like a rain cloud threatening to pour. It's obvious in the numbers tattooed in Erik's forearm from Auschwitz, in the mannerisms Alex learned from prison, in Hank and Raven's desperate attempts to become normal.

In the fact that they are here, in the house he grew up in, away from society.

Even still, Charles likes to think that human nature, intrinsically, is good.

But even that is hard to believe, after his most recent session with Cerebro. There had been a large collection of mutants gathered in one place and, at first, Charles had believed he'd come across another group of mutants who had banded together, just like they all had. However, that quickly turned out not to be the case.

Trafficking of mutants. They'd been hunted down, chained together and sold off for their abilities. It didn't matter that they were human, just that they were useful, like a tool in a shed, or animals to be caged. And those terrible, terribly people were somehow content with the knowledge that they own them.

It made Charles sick.

They had to do something.

And that's how Charles found himself traveling three days across country and checking into a hotel, pretending to be married to Erik. ]

[eye candy. he can do eye candy. and in an effort to prove that to himself or her or whoever might be watching, he flashes her a smile in return, one reserved, once upon a time, for Betty, for the sake of their cover and squeezes her hand in return. he resists the urge to shift away, to break character as it were, when they hit the elevator, if only because there are usually cameras in these things, albeit without sound. the fact that it's Wanda makes it a little easier to swallow. beyond Tony, she's probably in the running for Person He's Most Comfortable With Around the Tower]

This is kind of new to me. I usually stuck to the cheap rooms at the Holiday Inn.

[five star hotel? what do?]

Edited 2014-10-29 03:04 (UTC)

[The Capitol has many ways of manipulating people, this is only one of them. On stage and on paper Katniss presents herself as a soft and demure, mostly it's at a loss for what she's supposed to do and say. Gale isn't any better. He may be at this longer, but he isn't good at hiding his true feelings. So for the safety of them both, she tries to be the strong one, smiling and answering questions. Truth is, she's aware of how he looks at her. She can't deny it. Perhaps it's always been there since the days they used to hunt in the forest outside of 12.

Now she's not sure how she feels. What she experienced in the Games makes her feel hollow. She doesn't sleep well, and while feelings and emotions aren't either of their strong suits, the heavy silence of just laying against him is usually comfort enough on those nights that she can't stop dreaming about killing the other tributes.

It's that kind of comfort that keeps her magnetized to him. Her hand holds his as Caeser asks them questions about the upcoming wedding. They've come on the show once again to talk about this farce that may soon be less of a lie. Her emotions on it are mixed for a variety of reasons, but here she can gush about how madly in love they are, about how he saved her during the Games, and it was his daring advice she took, because he couldn't see her die. But this is only the pre-show to a much larger announcement President Snow is going to make.

The half hour show goes by quickly. Katniss is as ever charming, and even makes a few light jokes with Caeser. It's hard not to. But the show closed out, and a large screen enters the middle of the stage so everyone can watch the President's announcement on the 75th Annual Hunger Games. Katniss is already ready to tune him out. She's exhausted from makeup and dress prep, the show, and all the lies. But her face stays angled toward the screen until the inevitable is announced.

Former tributes. Her face drops. She can't breathe, and she can't speak. This is why Snow brought them here, not to blather on about some stupid wedding, but because he is showing her how quickly he can take her future away. And all cameras are still on them. Snow ends the announcement, setting a date to pick the tributes from the Quarter Quell. She's sure Caeser is making some commentary on it, but all she can do is look at Gale's face. No, not here. Not now.]

[ as long as they can keep up the lie that long, newt thinks to say, but he doesn't, pressing his lips together and worrying at the bottom one for a second instead. it'll be fine. the two of them could pull this off better than anyone in the glade--hell, they'd been "married" up until yesterday, and even when newt woke up in bed beside alby with some of his memories restored, he still couldn't bring himself to say that the whole thing felt wrong. because it was natural, it was comfortable.

he and alby were best friends, above all else. that, that much was an indisputable fact. whatever bonds they'd formed in their time together couldn't be faked by WICKED--could they? newt likes to think not. after all, they couldn't have planned for alby dragging him out of the maze like he did, saving his life when newt, at the time, hadn't wanted to be saved.

his mouth curves up in a little bit of a smile, though, and he nudges alby's shoulder with his own, thumb absently stroking over his palm. ] Guess it's alright, stuck with a shank like you. Could be worse--coulda had me married to Gally.

[ he's doing his best to lighten the mood, a little--newt's no minho, and he may not really be married to alby, but if there's one thing he hates, it's seeing him hurt, upset. ] C'mon, then, got a good front to put on for the kids.

"You can't be serious." Kendall protested, glancing at Sam to her right for support, not quite as intimidated by Coulson as she should be, mostly because he'd been her handler before he'd ever been her director, "The only 'domestic' anything I'm good at is terrorism, and even that's debatable."
She shook her head, "This is espionage, totally not my forte, can't you get Tasha to do it?"

"Easier to pass you off as a suburbanite, and besides, we need her elsewhere." The director said, leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled, "We've already got a crew in place making sure the house gets outfitted, anything you need is already going to be there when you arrive. So just how is this different than any of the other dozen gonzo missions you've been on before?"

Kendall made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat, barely resisting the urge to drag a hand through her hair, "The time frame, for one. I'm used to using an alias for an hour or two, just long enough to get through customs, this is ... months, probably, and it's not just a couple of customs agents, it's a whole freakin' subdivision."

"Gated community." Phil corrected, "Or, if we're correct, commune. SHIELD doesn't like it, FBI, CIA and even the ATF doesn't like it, which means that there's definitely something here. Fish and Game isn't thrilled either, for what it's worth. But it's down to us because our guys have the best chance of keeping their cover, better chance of it than anyone Talbot would send in. You've seen the write-up, the ads, tell me it doesn't smell wrong to you."

"It does, but..."
"But nothing, Barton." He turned to Sam then, both brows arching, "You have any objections to this, Wilson? Any reason at all you think the two of you can't pull this off?"

[ "Mrs. Elena McClain," on the other hand, sits stoically beside her blushing bride of a husband. She appears to be the more level-headed one of the couple (perhaps balancing Mr. McClain's enthusiasm), and this relative calmness is emphasized by the way her face is almost completely obscured by a deep hood. Kasumi is wearing a somewhat flowy, robe-like hooded garment over her usual attire, allowing her a more civilian appearance to go undercover with while having the advantages of her suit in case things go south. There was no denying, after all, that her normal appearance would garner probably unwanted attention in a dubious sanctuary like Refuge.

As is her protocol for undercover jobs, she's come up with elaborate backgrounds. Mrs. Elena McClain (née Gunn) is the daughter of a self-made tycoon whose fortune comes from owning massive deposits and mines of Element Zero in the Terminus Systems. She was born with a rare condition that made her skin extremely sensitive to direct exposure (hence the hood) and Mr. Gunn, her father, accordingly kept her isolated. James McClain is an ambitious and savvy businessman for a trading company with long-standing relations with Mr. Gunn's Eezo business. He and his future wife met at a consequence of a business function and the rest is history.

All of this information was, of course, irrelevant to the actual mission at hand, which was to get to the bottom of the mystery shrouding Refuge without stirring things up. Kasumi mostly just had some fun thinking it all up. Plus, it gave them a more believable reason for her to be as covered-up as she was than "she's just really shy," in the event that her appearance would continue to stir suspicion.

In any case, Mrs. McClain looks up at her oh-so-loving husband, which is an "I adore you" gaze from Mrs. McClain but a "You are having way too much fun with this" look from Kasumi. ]

Why yes, darling. We certainly won't be running out of things to do, hmm?

[She can tell that the situation is making him uncomfortable, and on any other occasion she would poke a little good-natured fun at it, because they're at that point now. But --]

Is it that bad to be married to me, Ollie? [She congratulates herself for at least managing to make it sound a little like a joke. A tired, worn out joke.]

Because there's very little else other than booze in the mini-bar, and you just told me to help myself...

[She forgets all about the matriarch and the mission for a moment, one little bitty moment, and grins.]

Could I? [Carrying Bobbi across the threshold and rubbing it to Hunter? Her new hobby is trolling the new guy, so yes. Hell yes.] Yes, let me carry you.

[Someone out there has had a heart attack at the mighty Captain America calling lady Sif his angel; that some is Sif, who can't help the little startled jump. That she thankfully masks very well, her gaze soft.

You want convincing? She rests her hand on his cheek, more affectionately than she's albeit touched anyone since she's been here. (And finding it easy to do, shockingly. Easy to have affection for Steve.)] Long, successful. Not more than the usual.

[Natasha flew the jet back and Clint taught her how to play poker. She thinks she owns his life, because he was left out of things to bet with. But that'll be some story they all share, later. For now, for the princess:] I have missed you. [She takes a step closer, and lowers her voice.] Come help me out of this armor.

Not before our wedding night, sweetheart. Remember, we've chosen to wait.

[ and kissing anyone sounds nauseating which, on an already unstable stomach would end... badly.

the second the little old lady is out of earshot, though, she puts her elbows on the table and leans her head into her hands with a heavy sigh. ]

Sorry. It seemed a lot funnier in my head. Before I thought she was going to take it seriously.

Nope, I think I'm good.

[ Peter's a damn good actor when he wants to be; he's subtle and believable, and he's careful about his body language. He's the type of person that just looks honest and open -- something that most of his companions would find completely ridiculous.

As they're approaching, though, Peter sighs a little, nudges Rogers playfully with his shoulder. ]

Remember our first date? [ His smile softens, as does his voice, and his head tilts a little. His expression screams wistful. ] I asked you to dance. When I leaned in to kiss you, I got nervous and accidentally stepped on your toes.

[ This act, of course, is entirely for her benefit. They're not within earshot of their gracious hosts just yet, though they're getting close. It's as much to reinforce their "relationship" as it is to tell her, "I'm taking this seriously. Don't worry about me." ]

[The thought of working alone for the rest of her life (however short she expects it to be) is one that Steph had made peace with a long time ago, knowing that lamenting it would only make things worse.

Running into Clark had changed that, even if she's still not exactly sure where they stand with each other, considering both of them seem so used to working alone. She wants to trust him, but it's been a long time since she's trusted anyone, and it isn't something to fall back into so easily.

She doesn't even want to think about - anything else. About how Clark makes her feel. They need to focus on what's in front of them, which is a crime ring operating out of a little country town. Two new people turning up at once might've raised too many eyebrows, but a country boy bringing his new wife out to the fresh air and wide open spaces has been done a million times before.

And they barely even have to act; Clark is comfortable in the country in a way that Steph really isn't, and it's obvious from the tension in her shoulders even once the door is closed.]

I feel like I should've bought more floral dresses.

[Or maybe more flannel.]

[ James McClain's only response for now is a hum of agreement, but it's accompanied by the slightest twitch of his brow. Peter knows Kasumi will catch it -- they're both professionals, after all, both thieves who have survived as long as they have by noticing the smallest details; they've had to notice miniscule things like a misaligned tile there, a lack of dust here, the slightest sign of wear on a button, which could mean a trap, a hidden alcove, or the key to a pass code, respectively.

So in this case, the twitch is in response to her silent rebuff. It says, "Try and stop me, Goto."

Over the internal speakers, the pilot announces their approach to landing pad and expresses his thanks to his passengers for choosing Refuge.

James speaks again, and his voice is oh, so different from Peter's; where Peter's would be quick and clipped and babbled, with just the barest hint of his mother's southern twang, James' is low, quiet, and not slow, but deliberate, words carefully chosen. ]

I hear there's quite a variety already living here. I hope they'll be open to some negotiating.

[ "I know this is a stealth mission, but I really want to punch someone." ]

[ This is going to be an aggravating mission, he can already tell. Brock suppresses a sigh and nods once, shortly, in acknowledgement. ]

So not knocked up. Possibly in love. Possibly because we got drunk in Atlantic City and thought we were in Vegas.

[ He supposes it doesn’t really matter. The mission isn’t meant to be that long. It’s an in and out job and he can do that without raising suspicion even without a ludicrous cover story. ]

You’re still the boss here, Cap. I’m following your lead. You aren’t comfortable, we’ll figure out a way to make you comfortable.

[ And, he thinks but doesn’t add out loud, plenty of people, newlyweds too, aren’t comfortable with PDA. Chances are they can get away with acting normally for most of it, deviating only if it becomes necessary to actually tell someone part of the cover story. ]

[ It takes every ounce of willpower Brock has not to start laughing as he watches Jack struggle to make sense of what he’s hearing. He knew when he’d said it that his reaction was going to be priceless, but this is making him wish he could’ve recorded it for later viewing, whenever he needed a quick pick-me-up after a long, aggravating day. He manages to stay balanced on the edge of is he or isn’t he joking until Jack finally gets it together enough to look disgusted and pushes his face away.

That alone prompts him to toss back his head with a bark of laughter, grinning from ear to ear in pure, unadulterated amusement. When he’s in the right kind of mood, and even sometimes when he’s not, sometimes especially then, Jack’s a joy to tease. This is shaping up to be one of those moments.

Settling back on the couch, he’s not the least bit surprised to find his gaze slipping downward to that strip of flesh revealed by the parting of Jack’s robe. Maybe that’s a deliberate distraction on his part, but if it is, Brock doesn’t mind being predictable. His fingers itch to slide up his leg and peel back some more of that cloth, but he doesn’t. Just like he doesn’t do any of the other half dozen things his mind offers up as potential ways to while away the hours until the evening. One, however, stands out as a potential means of apology, should he need it, and he tables it for use just in case it becomes necessary.

Or even if it doesn’t. ]

You mean before?

[ There’s a hint of playfulness in the question that he lobs back in Jack’s direction, lifting his eyebrows like he’s teasing him again. But it’s only a hint. Brock’s been thinking about it a lot. Mostly because he’s had to, thanks to the mission, and partly because Rollins planted the seed one night with an offhand remark about how they fight like an old married couple and the thought has refused to give up the ground it’s claimed in the back of his mind. ]

Nah, not really. [ He accompanies it with a tiny shakes of his head, glancing down at Jack’s hand where it rests against his leg. ]I thought about it a few times, but like you’d think about being president—[ Realizing as he says it that Jack’s never had that kind of thought, being the prince of a fucking country, Brock looks back up at him with a sheepish, barely there grin and scrambles for alternatives. ]—or an astronaut or a movie star or something else there was never any chance in hell you’d ever actually do.

[ He rolls his shoulder in a tiny shrug, not overly perturbed about it. He’d made the choices he had. He couldn’t go back and undo them. By now, he doesn’t want to. ]

Never had a childhood sweetheart growing up. By the time I fell in with SHIELD and Hydra, I figured that sort of thing just wasn’t in the cards for someone like me.

[ Reaching down, he covers Jack’s hand with his own. The pads of his fingers rub along the length of Jack’s, third one catching on the ring. Brock’s not giving his back. He knows he’s supposed to, but he isn’t going to. Jack picked these out, picked his out like it mattered, and maybe it means something, something he’s actively not thinking about, but he’s not handing it over to some bureaucratic asshole to sell back to someone else. ]

What about you? [ He poses the question carefully, quietly, feeling like he’s traversing a field littered with landmines. ] I know it was expected, being the prince and all, but did you ever want to?

[ Sometimes Bucky forgets that things have changed. That the world’s moved on, that Steve’s not quite the same guy he’d been before the war, that there are years between them now that they’ve missed, moments that have changed them in ways that the other is only just discovering. When it happens, when he’s reminded that the scrawny little punk from Brooklyn doesn’t exist anymore and his chest constricts so badly it hurts and his throat tightens until he thinks he’s going to suffocate, he tries to remind himself that it’s worse for Steve.

Steve went into the ice and woke up in the future, but he’s still mostly the same. It’s only Bucky who recognizes the differences, only Bucky who looks a little too low sometimes or waits for a reaction that doesn’t come and is somewhat blindsided by the one that has taken its place. He knows that in a lot of ways, it's Steve who’s dealing with an entirely new person. One who doesn’t smile as often or as freely, someone darker, more troubled, with patchy memories and the occasional black mood swing. He tries so hard to be the man Steve remembers, the one he himself remembers more frequently now, but sometimes he slips and he knows how hard that is for Steve.

Thankfully today, when it happens, it’s not the end of the world.

When Steve doesn’t react by flushing and stammering and getting flustered or hiding in the bathroom, Bucky doesn’t feel that crippling sense of loss and displacement. He does trip, which is clumsy enough and so completely Steve that the seductive smirk melts into a genuine grin. No matter how much time and distance work its way between them, some things never change, and it’s a comfort Bucky doesn’t realize he takes until it happens and he’s smiling at his smirking friend, thinking… Wait.

Smirking.

Bucky blinks, and in that time, that infinitesimal instant, Steve’s airborne. He can’t react fast enough, can’t get his mouth open to tell him to wait, hold on or get his hand up to try to ward him off of just leaping onto him. Because there he is, on top of him, all two hundred plus pounds of half-naked supersoldier, pressing him into the mattress and Bucky, unable to help himself, starts laughing. ]

You... [ Between the laughter and the kisses, Bucky can do little more than splutter, trying to kiss back and laugh and breathe and talk all at the same time. It doesn't work out so well. Eventually he gets himself untangled enough to get his flesh hand on Steve's face, which he cups gently and grins up at without care for the rose petals he can feel sticking to the back of his head. ] If you've been this excited about it, you should've said something. We could've skipped dinner.

[ He's kidding. Mostly. In the way that he's really not. ]

Sure you're up for this, Rogers? I'm not gonna go easy on you in your old age.

[The whole nine to five shtick wasn't really Dean's cup of tea but he made it work for them. Once he got Anna back, without the reindoctrinated sense of screwy, he hopped right on board. Marriage was pretty steep, especially for him, but it worked mostly because there wasn't anything to derail it. She didn't stop him from hunting, and there weren't any rifts in communication either.

When Dean comes back to the bunker from another cross country trip it's with some food in tow and a big stupid grin plastered on his face.] Hey babe. You miss me?

[ Adjusting to being... normal, was something new for Anna too. Without the added responsibility of wings and things, there were times that she didn't quite know what to do with herself. Although she had proved herself to be an avid researcher, helping with cases when they sprung up, sometimes tagging along.

But without her grace, she wasn't exactly big, badass angel anymore. Maybe that was for the best, especially when she got to look up and see Dean approaching with a grin like that.]

Maybe I did.

Hey, if you're not sure there's a gig south of Utah just screaming my name.

[Of course there isn't, it's all bull. Dean sets the bags down on the counter and fishes out a greasy fast food burger for himself. Never in a million years did he ever think this would be an option for a case. At first Sam was pissed, she only tried to kill him, and Cas wouldn't come around. Now everything was more evened out but still strained. They were fighting an uphill battle on this one but in order to keep her off the radar with the mess upstairs this was the only way. On top of that, Dean still had to juggle the mark and demons anonymous, neither of which were going too well. So having her on his six all the time gave his brother some piece of mind. So far things were cordial, just because Dean was happy to see a more stable Anna.]

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Page 10 of 27

( #002 ) FAKE MARRIED AU

it's totally not let's just say they're going to a bar or some shit

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OK COOL I'm kinda-sorta canonblind to B99 so just lemme know if I ever am

this is beautiful

And as promised ♥

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here, have some tl;dr??????

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tell me if I need to change anything

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If you don't mind the recycled starter (if so drop me a line, I'll work something else out)

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i try

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perf as always

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