we can paint the town red

arynn hayward . eighteen . rogue

[jasonadrelean]

When he heard the sound of someone moving around in the house, Jason let out a small groan. He just wanted to sleep, he really didn’t feel like dealing with anyone right now. As he heard the footsteps outside of the bedroom door, he rolled over and pushed himself up a little “Who’s there?” He called out. 

[deadarynn-blog]

It was nice to get out--well, not really, but if she had stayed huddled in that place of emptiness any longer, the walkers wouldn’t have been the only ones rotting. So finding a seemingly empty, quaint house had been a miracle; no wrestling with the undead, or loads of shit she’d have to ease her way out of--so far. “Damn it,” she muttered to herself, deliberating whether to creak open the door or just leave, never looking back. “Um...” 

[thesmokinxace]

Upon his travels, Ace was scouting out one of the buildings near by. He could hear a ruckus coming from one of the alleyways. Needing to keep himself hidden, it seems making his way to the Airport would have to wait. If someone was in danger, he will be more than likely to help them along. If it was a rogue just trying to fuck with him was a different matter entirely.

[deadarynn-blog]

“Fuck! Fucking piece of- Augh!” she yelled, staring down at the bashed head of flesh wedged beneath her bloodied boot. There really wasn’t any need to pulverize that taunting stare to nothing but shreds splattered across the blacktop, but it was as if she had to. So much rage and pent up emotion had swarmed within that little coup of hers, it was actually surprising she didn’t blow half the world away. “Stupid bag of shit,” she spat at the surely dead being, glancing around in spite of whoever appeared to be watching. Well, not like she cared.

[mindlikeawarzone]

Augustus sat upon a roof of a random store, his legs dangling off the edge. It was nice to watch the sky; seeing the clouds move, watching the color of the blue sky alternate. He wasn’t paying attention to much anything else, the only thing that snapped him out of his revere was the sound of another voice. Turning around, he gave them a small smile, sending a wave their way. “I’m sorry–I didn’t really hear what you said.” 

[deadarynn-blog]

She guessed she sort of missed the roofs; the girl had been so busy doing this and that, spacing time for herself to sprawl out on the faded cement of the high buildings seemed too...well, timely. But it wasn’t like she was on a schedule, and soon Arynn found herself gliding her hand up the railing, stepping one foot before the other up the endless stairwell. The sight of the shifting sky and all things in it was enough to make her even smile upon sighting a boy by the edge--a company a girl like her wouldn’t have enjoyed had it not been for a day like this. “Perfect scene to paint, don’t you think?” she had said, once close enough. “I said- Oh, nevermind,” she replied with a laugh, feeling the gale brush past her like running water.

[jakexgrehn]

The voice had caught him off guard; Jake tensed. It sounded as though they were in the living room, whoever they were; spotted his bag, obviously. He cursed under his breath before silently weighing his options. After a moment in thought, slowly, he moved further down around the corner he’d hid, taking the somewhat secret hallway through to the foyer; he appeared at an opening to the living room near the entrance. He’d taken this route as an incase she had a gun aimed — seeing she didn’t, he’d stepped out. A quick narrowing of his eyes when they caught recollection of the girl sitting exhausted before him. Arynn. He’d only seen her once before. The hotel. Lips parted, studying her. “ Didn’t think I’d have to put up a sign that said ‘ occupied ’. ” He voiced; his tone dark, unfeeling. His vibe was cold, he appeared threatening; but honestly, were he asked, telling anyone it was anything other than nice to see her, a familiar face, one he hadn’t wronged, would be a lie. He was simply stuck in survival mode. This was a safe haven, he should relax. He wanted to. But every part of his being was telling him to stay alert, and he was listening.

[deadarynn-blog]

There was no telling if she would be afraid of whoever decided to slip out; truly, she really wasn’t, but seeing as precautions were precautions and safeguarding herself was the best way to avoid exerting anything but minimal energy, Arynn combed through a utensil drawer with her fingers behind her, finally grasping the tiny ridges of a butter knife. Just in case. The girl, prostrated and lacking in any form of sleep, was honestly surprised when a vaguely familiar face emerged from the shadows, solemn and dubious, reflecting a somewhat more sinister form of herself. It took a few seconds of raking through memories before she could match a name to his dark hair and even darker eyes: Jake, of whom she must’ve met that fateful night Cheyenne became the disastrous depiction of a winter wonderland. “Oh,” she voiced, somewhat taken back by his glacial sounding--almost as if she was his unadorned enemy, but not quite. It was never that she’d expected cheery butterflies fluttering about the moment the person emerged, but she certainly hadn’t wanted to cross someone so...well, cold. Like the knife she pushed into her sleeve, the girl slipped back into her shell, stepping along the counter until there remained only a few feet parting her from the door. “I can leave,” she rushed, “I’ll just- I can go.” There was a tiny inkling in her that dared her to turn around; mocked her in turning the doorknob, just like the coward she became. Run away, run away, little girl. 

[jakexgrehn]

Jake crossed into Carpenter with a wary look in his eyes; a small readjustment of the strap of his bag on his shoulder, he took a quick glance around to see where everyone had gathered. It’d been a long journey — he’d barely made it out of Cheyenne alive, in addition, barely survived the snowstorm, his partner, Kaleb, hadn’t made it, and watching him die slowly was an ordeal. The whole thing had taken more out of him than he would’ve liked to admit; now he just wanted to rest. Moving around the crowd, he focused on an abandoned-looking house across the way. His movements were weak, expression drained; he was vulnerable. Upon entering the kitchen of the building, his muscles finally gave out and he fell into a dining chair. Briefly, he closed his eyes, but soon rolled them open in an attempt to stay awake. He couldn’t fall asleep; not yet. Forcing himself forward, he moved the strap of his bag over his head and placed it on the table, resting his elbows up and burying his face in his hands as so. What a fucking nightmare.

It was a moment after that he heard the creak of a door — attention shot behind him, towards the front, and he dropped his hands from his face. Though fatigued as all hell, he managed to quickly and carefully slip the knife from out of his bag and hurry to hide around the corner. Just because he’d managed to make it to a supposed ‘ safe haven ’ didn’t mean he was safe; he still had the snow and wandering raiders to worry about, apparently. Eyes stayed on his bag at the table, soft regret that’d he’d left it there, waiting for the perpetrator to make an appearance.

[deadarynn-blog]

She hadn’t expected some sort of reunion party when she’d come off the road; hell, there was more people than the girl had even seen during her interrupted stay in Cheyenne. Rather, it was the last thing she wanted to greet when she had trudged in the town, exhausted and on her lonesome, carrying nothing but a simple bag stuffed with two crumpled water bottles. To say she was tired would be an understatement; the girl was utterly gone, as if sleep evaded her like the fucking plague that got them there in the first place. Her brown tresses billowed around her face and she felt dark rings cupping her eyes, almost to the point when blinking became an effort. A small, quaint white house was the first building she came across, and to bother inspecting it before entering was a thought falling to a deaf mind. Arynn slowly eased the door open, her boots sounding as she traipsed inside, blatant to the many shouts resounding outside. Get away–she wanted to get away. Away from here, away from there, anywhere. 

But as fate would have it, a bag splayed across the kitchen counter caught the corner of her eye, far later than she would’ve wanted. Her mind desperately told her to ignore it; her heart pumped fast and her vision blurred red, but she was just so t i r e d. A chair lulled her in, and she could almost imagine the dreams filling her head once she just sat down, covered herself, closed her eyes. Danger. Danger. No danger, just sleep. “Fuck,” she mumbled to herself, casting her longing glance elsewhere, precisely on the bag. “You can get your bag, y’know. I’m not gonna steal it,” she announced to no one in particular.

[deadarynn-blog]

She couldn’t help but let her mind wander back to that night of burning trees and crumbling buildings; like some artfully depicted scene from a battle, soldiers bruised and bloody as the enemy ransacked each and every home. Only they weren’t the ones watching--they were the innocent fleeing, too desperate and too scared and far too outnumbered to do anything but stare. It was rather horrible, really; to be honest, the girl hadn’t expected any sort of attachment to the city, but after residing in that small loft bordering the corner of two streets, she’d found she quite liked it there. And witnessing those bastards steal it away from her--to say she held bitter resentment towards them would be an exceptionally large understatement. 

“...Uh, yeah,” she heard herself saying, unsure of when the other began to speak. “Carpenter, right?” Actually, had the person even spoken at all? 

[goodgirlsdontsurvive]

                                     CHEYENNE IS BURNING                                             the southern raiders

[history0fsilence]

I’m not a very good person. And I know that. But at this point in my life I don’t know how to be better.

01/11/2016

[veilled-deactivated20160315]

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse ---

[devincta-moved]

veilled:

alternatively send ‘ + ‘ after the symbol for the roles to be reversed where possible !

✘ = hugging them . Δ = playing with their hair .  ❤ = kissing them .  ₪ = asking them out for dinner . ☀ = giving them a gift of ___ ( asker’s choice ) . ♘ = stabbing them . ♕ = bowing down before them . ♒ = lying to them .   ✿ = buying them flowers . ☾ = being found shirtless . ♢ = reading them a story . ☂ = giving them their jumper to keep warm . ✎ = speaking in a different language . ✏ = teaching them a different language . ▄ = telling them a joke . ♬ = singing to them . ☹ = insulting a loved one . ஐ = slapping them . ✂ = threatening them . ❃ = dancing with them . ▤ = falling asleep on them . ☮ = waking them up after a nightmare .  ♣ = discovering them crying .  回 = patching a wound .  ✮ = stargazing . ▓ = caught stealing their belongings . ☽ = wandering alone at night . ♡ = complimenting them . ≡ = offering a place to stay overnight . ☢ = falling over . ✦ = being well-dressed . ❂ = wiping blood off their face . ◎ = taking care of them while ill . ☁ = being caught in the middle a storm with them . ⇕ = holding their hand . ↱ = being lost with them . ☠ = pushing them against a wall .

[deadarynn-blog]

△ (from Ace)

Arynn, she’d found, was never one for closed spaces; too many memories, not enough freedom, she was the creature battering against the cage when you turned the key. So when the horde came stumbling up the fire escape stairs like some apparition trailing her every move, what the girl would’ve done was bash each of their hideous faces in, dissect every bone and leave them mutilated and so utterly dead--just for taking up perfect space. Only some bastard had yanked her in a maintenance closet before one came to close, and now she waited with impatience for the stranger to let her wrist go.

“What’re you doing?” she asked in accusation, “I had it fine out there. There were only like...five.” There was definitely more than that, but the anger and frustration seething through the girl made the number so miniscule compared to her raging mind. She tugged her arm free, dubious of the person--now man, by the way his figure seemed in the darkness--who hadn’t bothered to reply, only breathing with such serenity and calmness so stark against her ragged gasps. 

So she thought it best to keep silence as she pressed her ear against the cool metal of the door, hearing nothing but the eerie echo of empty halls and vaulted ceilings. “See? Everything’s fine-” she paused, twisting on the knob like she would wring someone’s neck. 

“Hey, looks like we’re locked in,” he finally muttered, his voice deep and smooth and not welcome. 

“No shit, Sherlock.” 

“Don’t take your anger out on me, it was clearly the door’s fault.” 

She groaned, beating a fist against the worn metal. “Yeah, and it was clearly your fault for giving birth to it.” 

“What?” she heard him vaguely reply, as she kicked around her small little space with irritation and more frustration, vexed by this entire situation. She was looking for a broom--a broom or anything else, something she could bust the look with. Or maybe she could just use his face. She had to admit, though, if the man was silent for even two minutes, it was effortless to even believe he was there. He was like a shadow, lurking only to help or end you; a mist obscuring your vision until just...disappearing- No. That wasn’t him; not the man behind her. It was someone else she didn’t bother to remember, someone she’d meshed with everyone else. 

“You gonna help me? I don’t know about you, but I’ve got things to do and the one thing on my list doesn’t include you,” she sighed, shivering and annoyed in the coolness of the closet. “So like a hammer, or a mop, or anything-” 

“What about a key?” he asked cheekily, dangling something that sounded like angels’ voices when she heard the jingle. 

“Fuck you.”

[deadarynn-blog]

accidental affection

send me ✗ for my muse to fall on yours and land on top of them

send me □ for your muse to fall on mine and land on top of them

send me ♕ for your muse to get dared to kiss me

send me ♢ for my muse to get dared to kiss yours

send me ♫ for your muse to catch mine singing in the shower

send me ♩ for my muse to catch yours singing in the shower

send me ♡ for your muse to drunkenly confess feelings to mine

send me ☽ for my muse to drunkenly confess feelings to yours

send me △ for my muse to get trapped in a small closet with yours

send me ❅ for my muse to cuddle up next to yours while asleep on the couch

send me ❥ for your muse to cuddle up next to mine while asleep on the couch

[rosewoodxdetectve-deactivated20]

Connor was many things, a killer, a criminal, a thief, a manipulator, the list could indeed go on. He could be at the highest of highs, when he has captured who he planned on sinking his teeth into. It was a matter of what they were. A simple trophy to parade around, or a doll, to move at will, torture and play with. He was capable of so much, and could be so much more. As he’s heard the same old stories on his achievements and how he shouldn’t be going down the darkened road. There was a time in which he was better than where he was. A door simply opening, one way leading to the past, and the other leading to an oblivion that wiped out his current being like clashing waves swallowing hole. An Angel or a Devil, and his soul was taken, leaving behind a bringer of death, and soul sucker. A nightmare. For he was not the ideal man,  no prince, no fairytale ending for any women that crossed his path. Broken glass, and withered roses leaving behind in his wake, scattered pieces, scarlet red drops, tainted poison, and reddened skin….. the crying sounds of e m o t i o n s ringing within his sanity filled mind that is slowly slipping. control them, control them —-

It was a dance of the winds or maybe of fire and ice, light and dark, or a blend of darkened souls merging into one. Neither fighting against the other, but conforming, blending and intertwining. For the forces that bring them together should be tearing them apart only tethering them all the more. Like a small flash, he replayed every instant these two encountered, like a movie on repeat. She was but someone who wanted him dead. His wound had healed but it had been her intention to end his life and now finds they are but at the same destination. Connor would not be foolish enough to believe that there is no other goal in this matter, for he may have been the snake within the grass, but she was the beast in the form of an angel. Connor had caught the faint whisper she had released, his left hand reached up to grab a strand of her fiery hair which matched her persona. Twirling her hair around his finger before looking back at her, he had found that she was much closer than her previous position. He held her chin “By now you should know, that you.” he smiled “Being this close, is never a bother.” he lightly ran his thumb along her jawline. “Why?.” he leaned in, their noses touching “Is it affecting you Arynn?.”

[deadarynn-blog]

In all her years, Arynn came to be a girl with many faces--shells of each other, falling and obscuring like petals of a rose. She was the type of person that never stuck to a single personality--maybe the skeleton of one, but never really. And that, perhaps, was one of the many things she hated about herself: she could never truly anchor herself to one dedicated persona, always morphing into some other girl that she herself failed to recognize. She would draw her character, sketch her mind, scrape her strengths and paint her weaknesses...only for what? For the girl to trash what had previously been built, wiping her canvas clean so the next encounter would be completely, so entirely different, that it sickened her how quick she was able to change. And yet past every little tweak and lie and false perception, Arynn still wasn’t able to achieve perfection--rather, the girl was so far from it that even uttering the word was a jab, a bloody stab to her darkened heart. And if not her raging desire to be faultless before the man, she would’ve excepted such a fact. 

There were times she found herself wanting to be a tear of snow, drifting outside and mirroring ten thousand others, yet not entirely the same. She wanted to be a beauty that hid behind the signifigance of ten others; wished to be someone only explorers could find buried deep in the winter snow. She wanted to become something she would never be, and even sometimes just thinking about such trivial things was a sort of release from the prison she’d locked herself in. But Connor was the summer breeze--he was a gale rushing in fast, obliterating the delicate frame of each and every snowflake. He was the kind of enemy that millions welcomed and dozens scorned, and it was the line of whether to hate or love that Arynn didn’t know which to cross. She thought she could keep her balance on such a thin separation; thought she was able to escape the grasp of choosing- But even trapeze artists teetered, and this one was hurling straight towards oblivion. The girl noticed his touch on her--she always noticed his touch on her. But for once she found she didn’t like it; didn’t like that feeling of his finger tangling her hair, didn’t like his brooding eyes, hated the way he whispered her name. So instead of answering his question like he had did hers, she said, “You know, I often ask myself what my business with you is. Why am I here? Why do I keep coming back?” It was more addressing herself than him, yet she felt a need to utter the words aloud; like some clarification, some reality in the nonsense she spoke. “And y’know what I found?” 

[veilled-deactivated20160315]

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse ---

[mclancholias-blog]

veilled:

alternatively send ‘ + ‘ after the symbol for the roles to be reversed where possible !

✘ = hugging them . Δ = playing with their hair .  ❤ = kissing them .  ₪ = asking them out for dinner . ☀ = giving them a gift of ___ ( asker’s choice ) . ♘ = stabbing them . ♕ = bowing down before them . ♒ = lying to them .   ✿ = buying them flowers . ☾ = being found shirtless . ♢ = reading them a story . ☂ = giving them their jumper to keep warm . ✎ = speaking in a different language . ✏ = teaching them a different language . ▄ = telling them a joke . ♬ = singing to them . ☹ = insulting a loved one . ஐ = slapping them . ✂ = threatening them . ❃ = dancing with them . ▤ = falling asleep on them . ☮ = waking them up after a nightmare .  ♣ = discovering them crying .  回 = patching a wound .  ✮ = stargazing . ▓ = caught stealing their belongings . ☽ = wandering alone at night . ♡ = complimenting them . ≡ = offering a place to stay overnight . ☢ = falling over . ✦ = being well-dressed . ❂ = wiping blood off their face . ◎ = taking care of them while ill . ☁ = being caught in the middle a storm with them . ⇕ = holding their hand . ↱ = being lost with them . ☠ = pushing them against a wall .

[rosewoodxdetectve-deactivated20]

To think that their first encounter in such a situation was when they all sought shelter in a church basement. Even then in the darkness, did he have a small light illuminating her within the shadows. For that is how he saw all things, with dark palettes of grey and black. If could choose a color, red. Not because it had been his favorite, but because he only visioned the victims covered in the vibrant color. In his mind, he could only think of ways each and everyone of these fools would meet their end, while others, he could envision morphing their souls into something much darker, plaguing them with their fears. A shadow within the night like a nightmare. With all this white, and different hues of colors, it was almost like a vampire awakening in the sun—burning.

The more time spent with this one girl, the more he was finding himself still wanting to do what he had planned in the beginning. To take her from the inside out, wrapping her around the idea of him, before taking her as his own. Her cries of agony of pain were still much wanted along with her desires and transforming those cries into yells of pleasure. For pain and pleasure go hand in hand. What rested in her eyes carried that fire that continued to burn, mixed along with something he still could not read. When he focused, he focused really well. The sounds of distant chatters all mute when she had spoken. He was like a snake, already wrapping himself around her, so that all who pried on the outside knew, that she was his to sink his fangs into whenever he wanted. For Connor was a selfish man, and one that did not like to share. His hazel brown hues continued to watch her, a smirk appeared on his features. Did it bother him? “Not at all.” it was easy for him to separate himself from emotions, however the desire to make her his, was still very prominent.

[deadarynn-blog]

It was sort of nostalgic the way they were holed up in such a building; dark spaces, brooding corners, everything a girl like her should’ve been afraid of. Only, it was obvious she wasn’t any ordinary girl; rather, she found herself residing on a cliff far below the surface of one, and whether she was better or worse leaned more towards who she happened to be with. She was a child and she was a woman, and in the rarest of times did she consider herself to be both--a median between two divergent personalities, a subjugation to whatever was brewing beneath. With Connor...well, she was neither. She was past a child and not yet woman--at least, not in the way she would’ve liked him to see her as--but something straying from the concept of humanity itself. Though the girl was godless and she was no heretic; what was her praise? It seemed with the man her soul reason was to entertain, amuse, entertain, entertain, entertain--

The color red and all the other shades pertaining to it had a special place in her heart; a hole furrowed along the poison of her veins, pulsing inside her but never leaving. Yes, many a times such a stain bleached from her skin, but that was never really the true kind of red--the leaks and cuts and scrapes bled iron; not silver, not g o l d. What the girl seeked was nothing of a mortal enemy--it was a fiend, yes, but the sort of demon that tore only to stitch; stabbed to lap up the scarlet pooling from the wound. She sought for a treasure that would only be found by the death of her--taunting and teasing and jeering on the edges of her skin until finally...stopping. Isn’t that why she kept his company? To eventually die and find herself anew, trapped and free and holding a single, solitary rose--one of which she imagined blighting her soul to immortality. But staring at his dark eyes and sinister grin retrieved her body from her dream and dragged her from her nightmares. “Not one bit?” she heard herself whispering, leaning closer to him from the wood of the chair.

[garthcallaghan-deactivated20160]

“Didn’t realize I’d come across a twelve year old.” He smiled.

[deadarynn-blog]

“You unbeliever!” she accused. “What if he was right b e s i d e you? This twelve year old’s not gonna save you.”

[rosewoodxdetectve-deactivated20]

By slightly festive, he’d decorate this party with blood covering the whole hotel. People screaming and those that try to escape, that is his idea of a jolly time. “Work on that imagination, if you’d believe that.” he said with a light chuckle. His eyes watched her like a hawk would it’s prey, very primal, as if his eyes could pierce her heart and make her bleed from the inside. Arynn moved to sit next to him, as if it was natural.  What happened to the girl that loathed his presence? Had she gone soft now? or finally given in? a mischevious smirk appeared on his elegant features. He cared not for a bunch of people who will eventually meet their doom. “Ah Arynn my own personal Watcher. Tell me why are you this close?” he titled his head as he placed his other hand on the the other side of her, not touching her waist, but not giving her a chance to leave. Such close proximity, not that he minded.

[deadarynn-blog]

It seemed almost every occasion interlocked with wrong turns; shattered lights, flickering flames, red strung around rooms--jingling, twinkling, gleaming in the holiday spirit. It was an instinct for a person like her to see them: flashing visions, blurring and mending and warping the scene to appear so much more sinister. Blood that tainted the walls, beasts run rampant and baring feral claws. Red, red, red--it seemed that red was the only hue she could see with Connor, and, if she was perfectly honest, the girl sometimes wished the case not to be so. The artist buried beneath that skeptic and nihilistic aura only ever made so few appearances--Arynn just hated that now was the time she wanted to be a little girl again.

Painting was what occurred in her mind; like a distant whirring, always contrasting the light from the dark, seeing the littlest of actions as a masterpiece. The girl back then would’ve interpreted the situation like any other, but something about Connor made her hesitate--did she really wish to tear him apart? To dissolve his fog of mystery and embrace him as whole, finite kind of being? Of course, it could’ve just been her misconstrued sense of value and rusted eyes that made him appear so..far away. But Arynn didn’t want to see their dimmed lights and brightened darks--she wanted to blend them together, to morph the two into something entirely new and beautiful. She wanted to mix his flesh with her own and paint a colorful magnificence onto the canvas of his skin; she wanted to stare at him in wonderment and figure where to place everything else--his personality would fuse with his wicked grin, his desires would flutter their way into his threads. Yes, the girl’s deepest, darkest desire with him was to look at something better than red. “Why?” she inquired, watching his long arm trap the only...normal way out. “Does it bother you?” She wished it did.

[jakexgrehn]

At the girl’s reply, Jake’s eyes flickered between her and the snowy abyss outside; continuously. Slowly, at first, but as he started to notice her features were changing, a speedier double-taking was deemed appropriate; Heaven forbid he look at her for longer than a millisecond. Spotting her smile, the corners of his own mouth threatened to curve. He refrained; though the childlike curiosity lighting his previously dimmed features remained. “ You could say that, ” he returned with a light shrug. It wasn’t that he minded the company of others — in fact, he preferred it. Before the outbreak he was quite the socialist, but since, paranoia became his best friend. “ You part of a camp? ” He inquired; curiosity getting the better of him.

[deadarynn-blog]

It was strange, this space between them--only a few meters separated the two, yet the fragments of silence were abysmal--and hell, the girl was unsure if she even wanted to stay longer. She noticed his flitting gaze as much as he must’ve seen her unfamiliarity; it was an inevitable feat, telltales that neither wished to make the air as awkward as it was. Only it was the first quirk of his lips that seemed to sear a hole through the thick veil of oddity, making everything feel more..right. As if they were acquaintances leaping onto the road of friendship, even though the two had merely exchanged names before plummeting deep in the glacier she’d named ‘atmosphere’. “Nah,” she answered with an indifferent lift of the shoulder, “I don’t think anyone would want me in any sort of encampment.” There was a certain sense that made it rather difficult admitting such a trivial thing--she was a troublemaker, wasn’t she? So Arynn reciprocated the question on him, guessing, “Something tells me you are?”