12. What’s the weirdest thing you’re likely to find in their room?
hmmmmm. this is actually pretty hard without going into like maybe nsfw territory and I don’t wanna go there lmfao
maybe not so weird and a little quirky but I could imagine Neva collecting crystals? maybe not believing in the whole “they actually help” but likes the idea of symbolism. maybe also little art projects either from beth’s childhood or some finished and unfinished ones of her own, mostly with her mainverse self since that version is specifically an art teacher as opposed to the variants most people know where she’s a pop star
sup bishes I’m not off the backstory fic train also I figured out I can maybe post this via browser on my iPad cuz everything looks like desktop on it so!!!!! Cross ur fingers
———
He met her a couple times. Just a young girl from further in the town, went to the local high school, the same as he was expecting his child to go to later.
He met her at the gallery held every school year. Everything the students felt had been their best work was on display, not only from the fine art program. A few music students auditioned to play music, culinary students made treats and snacks to serve during the event. Film students showed off movies they made. The most exciting part would be when local professionals would come, see the work, talk to the creators, offer tips. People would get their names known. Some from colleges would visit.
That’s how they met.
Neva took a deep breath, playing with a curl at the side of her face. Merhib stepped closer beside her and squeezed her free hand. She almost jumped at the sudden touch.
“Easy,” he smiled down at her. “It’s gonna be fine.”
“Nobody’s come up to say anything to me,” Neva looked around anxiously. “I think I picked stuff too weird.”
“You’re an abstract kind of artist,” Merhib shrugged. “It can freak people out. They’re more into those fancy-pants classical stuff.” When Neva didn’t perk up, Merhib looked at her more comforting, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her temple with a smile.
“Just give everyone a minute,” he calmed her. Neva took another breath.
“I have to go get ready for my song,” she murmured. “I think people will say something after that. Can you watch over my stuff?”
“Sure,” Merhib pressed a kiss to his new girlfriend’s soft lips. She gave a smile up to him, much more relaxed. As she headed off to the side of the room where the performers were to play, Merhib leaned up against the wall, scratching the back of his hair as he watched the people come and go. He adjusted his jacket and waited for her to start, crossing his arms.
As he watched the people come and go, he reflected on actually acting his age for once. He died at seventeen. Permanently stuck on the border of being an adult and being too young. Yet, he was the king of a Realm, held it all in the palm of his hand, expected to be a ruler. Mabuz commented every once in a while how immature he could be, how his choices weren’t always the best and tried to steer him the right way.
But for once, he was his age again, and the only downside was having to act normal.
Merhib looked to another oat of the gallery, seeing a man wander and admiring the artwork. Some photography, some sculptures, ceramics and such, but primarily fine art. Paintings, dry media. Some students seemed excited when he talked to them.
He was an older man, with ginger hair and flecks of grey in it. A mustache rested under his nose, hair with curls. It gave him a weird sense of deja vu at seeing both his hair, and his face in general. He looked too familiar. Brown eyes instead of blue ones like the ghost he saw. Alive, unlike the ghost he met years ago when he was alive.
His heart jumped for a moment and his hand curled tighter against his arm.
No. Couldn’t be.
Neva starting to sing and play on her guitar pulled him from his thoughts. He listened to her sing with a smile, playing a rock song acoustically to prevent the school administration from yelling at her again. She performed just as well either way—almost everyone seemed distracted from what they were don’t to just watch her.
Merhib couldn’t help but feel his dark eyes glance sideways as the other man clapped politely when the song ended. He seemed pleased himself as well. Merhib turned his gaze back to Neva and clapped, giving a whistle to her. Neva laughed as soon as she heard it, stepping aside to let the next person play.
Merhib glanced over his shoulder one more time as Neva set her guitar down and made her way over, and he noticed the other man briefly staring back at him, too.
Could he have really—
“Hey!”
Merhib turned back to Neva and grinned, pulling her close, pale hands on her back and pressing her against him. She stood on the tips of her feet and kissed him excitedly.
“Were you spacing out or something?” Neva smirked, wrapping her arms on his shoulders, one of her hands sliding through the back of his ginger, curled hair. He shook his head.
“Nah,” he pressed his forehead to Neva. She snickered.
“You’re a bad liar,” Neva teased. Merhib slid his hands to Neva’s hips and smirked back with a quiet chuckle. “Just like always.”
“Stop,” he teased. Neva laughed again and moved to give him another kiss.
A clearing of someone’s throat stopped the two. On instinct, Merhib quickly pulled himself off of his girlfriend. Neva brushed a curl behind her ear and shuffled on her feet, eyes down despite the soft smile on her face.
“Sorry,” said Neva quickly. It was the man Merhib had been watching. The moment his girlfriend lifted her eyes, she became excited once again. “Professor Bosteau! Oh, I’m so sorry, hello!”
“Hello to you too, li’l lady,” he smiled back. Merhib felt one of his hands curl and uncurl. He shoved his fist into his pocket, other hand holding Neva’s. “Sorry for interrupting. I was just wondering if this was your artwork here.” A worn finger gestured to the paintings and sketches behind her. Neva nodded excitedly.
“Y-yes, these are mine,” she felt her cheeks flush as she stepped aside to show her artwork, pulling Merhib with her. “All stuff I’ve done this year.”
“What grade and age are you, my dear?” Professor Bosteau bent closer to the paintings to examine them, squinting past a small pair of glasses over his eyes.
Neva’s smile was at risk of falling off her face. “I-I’m sixteen,” she looked up at her boyfriend with hope in her brown sparkling eyes. “Just turned sixteen, actually. I’m a junior.”
“Your work holds a lot of expression,” the Professor nodded. “Pretty hard to see in artists your age. They’re having too much or a hard time in technique to express it. You need a little more technicality in your brushstrokes and blending,” and he moved his fingers in the air, close to the paintings, and Neva hung on his every word, “but I’m sure with practice in the next art class up, you’ll be in a fantastic place. Have you considered attending Riverview Community College?”
“Yes, actually,” Neva twirled a lock of her hair excitedly, “I-I actually really like the campus and I’m keeping my fingers crossed I get you as my art professor, sir.”
“Aw, shucks,” Professor Bosteau chuckled. “You hold me with too high an honor. But thank you. I’m flattered either way. I’ve got to visit some of the other artists, but—“ and he took both of Neva’s hands in his and shook them, “—I do hope I see you again, and I wish you luck. What was your name?”
“Neva Arazel,” the young girl beamed. Professor Bosteau nodded. As he made his way, Neva danced in her spot. Merhib stared at John in disbelief.
“Merhib, did you hear?” she asked excitedly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him eagerly. “He liked my stuff!”
“Yeah,” Merhib pushed out the best smile he could. Neva looked at him unsure.
“You okay?” Her words brought him back for a moment. Merhib blinked and gave a smile, more sincere and full.
“Yeah,” he said. “I just wanna get some air.” Neva gave him a kind smile and linked his fingers with hers.
“We can head out,” she said. “Thank you so much for being here with me.” Merhib smiles and kissed her forehead.
“Anything for you.”
——
At sixteen years old, he made the way to the old wailing house.
Legends told of a ghost living there, a soul who was lost and punished to face total damnation, roaming the earth and to never escape into a peaceful afterlife. They said he was a man tortured by his past, by atrocities he committed in the past. Young people went there often on dares, see who was brave, see who was too afraid. People who previously didn’t believe in ghost were terrified by the reality they saw.
But he wasn’t here on a dare. He was here based on his grandfather’s notes and the information he gathered on the legend.
Merhib couldn’t ask his driver to take him without his father finding out. So, instead he hailed for a taxi to take him as far as he could, then walked the rest of the way though the infamous woods of Riverview. He followed the river the town was named after to find his way into the woods, keeping his flashlight and both his and Zachary’s notebooks close to himself.
He was going to face it. The demon that resided there. No, the ghost. He would speak with him. Make contact. It would be an incredible advancement.
Merhib walked up to the creaking steps of the porch and held tight to his journals. Tucking his flashlight under his other arm, he gently opened the door.
The smell of death flooded his nose.
Merhib held back a gag, grabbed his flashlight and switched it on. He slowly wandered from the front hallway to the living room, both frightened and fascinated. His grandfather said people he worked with years ago lived there. Both went missing, at different times. With his grandfather now passed, his research was all he had left to go off of for his guidance.
Merhib felt the whole house sway for a moment, but not like an earthquake. For a moment, he thought the wind was beating against the old place. But the namesake of the home...
Merhib took only another step further before the ghost revealed itself.
“Intruder,” the house seemed to whisper, as though thousands of voices were intertwined with the wood and walls, the floorboards and every creek. Slowly, a faint blue glow made itself known. Merhib stared wide-eyed at it. The ghost. He was real.
“You shouldn’t be here,” the ghost whispered. “No one should be here. Not in this damned place.”
“I-I’m sorry for intruding,” Merhib spoke up, and he realized his pale, long and thin hands were shaking. “I-I came here to—“
“Stare at the monster, didn’t you,” the ghost interrupted. “Came on a dare. I know how you youths are.”
“That’s not it at all!” Merhib gave a weak, nervous smile and soft laugh. “I-I came because... because I want to know who you are.” The ghost seemed confused. He slowly floated down from above the young man and faced him. Merhib could see just how tired, how worn the spirit was.
“No one should know who I am,” the ghost sighed. “I am... I am a pathetic excuse of a man, I’m a monster.”
“I don’t think of you like that at all.”
“You hardly know me, young man.”
Merhib held out his hand, startling the ghost. He gave another small smile, “My name is Merhib.”
“People... call me Ghost now,” Ghost said, but didn’t touch Merhib’s hand. He slowly set his hand back down. “What... what do you have there?”
“Oh, uh,” Merhib blinked and looked at the books in his hands. “Research. From my grandfather. It’s how I began to learn that people like you are out there.”
“Monsters?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way, Mr. Ghost.” He fumbled with all the objects in his hands momentarily, “Uh, a-and I have my own notebook, too. I wanted to get to know you. Learn about you. You’re incredible.”
The words didn’t sit right with Ghost, “You should not say those sorts of things, Merhib. It can lead you on a dark path.”
“H... how so?”
“You could make the same mistakes as me.”
“What... mistakes did you make?”
Ghost hesitated, and the whole house seemed to creek. He sighed, and confessed, “For the sake of my warning to you... I’ll tell you. I once worked at a laboratory. We... we researched people like me. Ghosts. Witches. Psychics, mermaids, all sorts of creatures. We studied them until they were in pain. Until they were dead. I... I hurt these creatures, a-and some were children—“ The house started to violently vibrate again. Merhib dropped his books and light, feeling the ground shake. As the ghost cried and wailed, Merhib found it harder and harder to stay on his feet. The boards creaked and broke; the ghost cried and cried, no words coming from his mouth anymore. Drowned out by his regret. Merhib looked around for something to hold on to. As he tried to move, he slipped on his light and books and fell to the floor.
Merhib saw something from higher above shake. The roof was caving in. He tucked his arms over his head as one of the windows vibrated and shattered near him. Unveiling himself, he looked up as the roof was ready to fall.
“Stop!!”
He instinctively held his arm up, up at the caving roof, as the wood already began to fall, and it stopped. Eyes shut tight, Merhib was still prepared to get hurt. The house still shook for a moment, until Ghost noticed what the young man was doing. He watched the parts suspended in air for a brief moment before it all fell back down. Merhib rolled out of the way, but nothing else fell. The house stopped shaking.
“How did you—?”
“I’m sorry,” Merhib got up and dusted off his vest, “I-I didn’t mean to bring up something that was going to destroy the house.” Ghost went quiet and looked sheepish.
“I shouldn’t... have reacted in such a way,” he murmured. “But don’t you see? It’s dangerous here, it’s dangerous to talk about what’s happened.”
“I... see,” Merhib slowly nodded. He picked his flashlight back up and looked around for his notebooks. Ghost floated towards one. He recognized the handwriting, and his wounds oozed from the back of his head, the house turned cold. Merhib went to grab the other notebook, when he saw Ghost staring down at it.
“Um—“ Merhib reached for the notebook, but Ghost’s cold gaze stopped him. “My—m-my book—?”
“This is not yours,” Ghost whispered. “This was his.”
“His?”
“Zachary Collins.” The dead man’s words held venom as he spat out the name in disgust. Merhib slowly picked up his notebook.
“H-he was my grandfather,” he said. “He died a while back. Left all this stuff for me.” The house vibrated again, but it was a different kind. Not of wailing. Not of mourning. Of hate. Of rage.
“That—that monster—!!”
“Huh?!”
Merhib ducked his head again and avoided more rotted, broken wood falling. Ghost seemed to turn monstrous, violent. His glow was intense, matching the rage and pain in his eyes. Merhib stared at him in fear.
“He—he did this to me—“ Ghost gripped his head. “He convinced me to work there! Told me what I was doing was right, he threatened me, Adam, he was cruel, he encouraged us—he told us to kill them, they were just children—!!”
Merhib managed to reach a table and duck under it. Everything was falling, everything was shaking, and it felt like it followed him wherever he turned. The rage was directed at him.
“I-I’m not him!” Merhib shouted about the noise, the sheer calamity, but the ghost’s rage continued. He pointed out, out the front door.
“Leave!!” Ghost’s voice turned monstrous. “Leave and never come back!!” Merhib grabbed his light and books and ran out of the house as fast as he could. He feared that if he didn’t, the entire place would collapse onto him. He tumbled into the dirt and stared at the place in shock.
Merhib slowly stood up and turned back to follow the river, back to town. He wiped away the blood from his tumble and the dirt the best he could before he hailed for another taxi. Climbing in once one finally showed up, he told the driver to go back to Shoreline Manor, and the entire drive, Merhib continued to flip through the pages and think about the ghost.
His grandfather’s ramblings were true. All he wrote about were true. Despite everything, he was still a brilliant scientist, a man who wouldn’t let anyone stand in the way of his progress. That wasn’t inherently bad. But if what Ghost has said were true...
He would get answers. He wouldn’t do it how Zachary did, though. Ghost gave him plenty warning against it. But the answers would come to him. All would know.
while I’m working on editing western au, here’s a lil tidbit for ya: when Neva left her family, she left a note that would become essentially their world’s version of “Remember me”. she remembered the note and turned it into a song that she sings in both English and Spanish and she sang it to beth before giving her up to Ghost
based off how I said Neva is working as a waitress rn and a fact that clara and i thought abt with Johnny being a busboy and pizza delivery guy. initially not meant to make a connection, but then it did in my brain and this is the result
———
He requested to not work around her when she was hired.
He told them he didn’t want to work with her. He was vague, but his co-workers were understanding. They typically listened and scheduled him and her at different times.
Except today.
Johnny parked his motorcycle and slid off his helmet, heading inside the restaurant to work. He was a busboy, also ran pizza deliveries with that fast bike of his. He just slapped on the logo sticker when he was working, and a small little flag for the back.
He entered through the back, high-fived with some people leaving for the end of their shift, punched the shoulder playfully of one of the cooks, laughing the whole time as he set his bag aside and hung up his helmet and jacket.
Walking out into the restaurant, though, he saw her waiting tables in the middle of the area.
Neva’s hair was tied back in a ponytail that made him annoyed. It reminded him too much of his sister.
She rushed back and forth with the black trays, carrying burgers and drinks and sodas. Johnny glared at her.
“Hey,” Johnny grabbed the arm of one of his co-workers, whispering, “I thought Neva wasn’t working tonight.”
“Last minute switch,” the co-worker shrugged. “Nancy called out for a family emergency, and Neva picked up the shift.” Johnny let go of his co-worker, rolling his eyes.
“Great,” he grumbled, grabbing his basket and heading over to one of the empty dirty tables to clean.
He’d be sure to avoid her, for his own sanity’s sake.
———-
The dinner rush went fairly smoothly considering being a weekend night, with only two tables filled. Johnny slid onto a bar stool. The bartender passed him a water.
“What?” Johnny frowned at it. The bartender shrugged.
“Sprite dispenser is busted,” he said. Johnny banged his forehead against the bar.
“You’re killing me, Maury. Not even a milkshake?”
“Boss told me to stop giving you them during work.”
“Ugh,” Johnny groaned, rolling his eyes. “My night just keeps getting better. Can I get a bendy straw at least? Or am I to be stripped of all my joy?”
Maury swapped the regular straw for one of the color changing ones for kids drinks.
“This isn’t even bendy!” Johnny nearly yelled at the cup. Maury only gave another shrug and moved to clean the other side of the bar.
“Yo, can I get some fries with that shake?”
“Lay off,” Neva sighed, tucking a black tray under her arm. Johnny glanced over his shoulder to see Neva, face slightly red, walking away from a table full of guys. They were snickering. He initially thought what they said was an actual order. Johnny looked over at Neva as she passed him by. She stopped suddenly and looked over at him and Maury.
“Stop staring, too,” she mumbled, her face redder. Johnny turned his attention back to his water and fiddled with the straw.
“Wasn’t even staring,” Johnny mumbled.
“Still,” Maury shrugged, “she looks good for her age.”
“Don’t,” Johnny rubbed his temple. “She’s the birth mom of my sister.”
“Yeesh,” Maury crossed his arms, a subtle look of tension on his face. “Sorry. What, you don’t like her?”
“She’s the cause of all the things my little sister went through before my dad and I took her in,” Johnny grumbled. “Don’t wanna go into it. But she’s selfish, flaky, stupid, annoying, and a coward.”
“Wow,” Maury smirked. “Little harsh?”
“Just the right amount of ‘harsh’,” Johnny sipped his water. “I know her better than you or anyone else here. So don’t mind a bird coming your way.”
“What?”
Johnny held up his middle finger. Maury laughed heavily.
“Alright, I’ll lay off,” he teased. “Haven’t seen you this riled up in ages.” Johnny took a quiet sip from his water, staring at it. The straw was blue, but every time the water shot through, it turned purple. He remembered being fascinated with it as a kid, when his dad would take him here after little league games.
It’s not easy to be a parent on your own, Johnny thought to himself, twirling the straw. But he could do it. So why couldn’t Neva? Exceptional incompetence?
“Yo, Johnny, you’re up,” Maury nudged his head to a table behind Johnny. The couple just left. Johnny tossed out his straw and drank the last swing of his water, wiped the water from his lips, then grabbed the basket and his washcloth, flinging the damp thing over his shoulder.
He picked up the dirty dishes and baskets, tossed in the messy napkins and started to wipe down the table.
“Please, just leave me alone.”
Johnny looked over his shoulder at Neva, arms crossed as she stood in front of the table of guys.
“Why you gotta be like that, babe?” one smirked. Neva glared at him.
“I’m nobody’s babe,” she grumbled. “Lay off. Or else we’ll kick you out. We have anti-harassment—”
“You talk like anybody here is gonna help you,” another guy laughed. “Look around, sweetie. Barely anybody’s here. Just that busboy, and if they’re like any other guy, they’re probably just wanting to compliment you, too.”
“You think you’re complimenting me?” Neva’s voice was struggling to hide her anger. Johnny never heard it before. “Look, one more shot. Don’t bother me again, and I won’t force you out.”
“Sure, babe,” a man winked. Neva looked disgusted and turned to leave the table. Johnny glanced up at the clock. He finished cleaning the table and headed to the back to clock out and grab his stuff.
Just as he finished and took his name tag off, he heard the guys outside whistling and laughing. Something didn’t sound right about it.
The young man pushed open the door, seeing Neva bright red and covering her bottom. Maury had left the bar. Nobody else was out to see this.
“Don’t touch me!” Neva yelled at the men. Her chest was heaving. Johnny’s eyes narrowed and he felt his jaw tighten.
“Hey,” Johnny stood next to Neva, an arm in front of her, “I think she told you to stop earlier.”
“What’re you gonna do about it, busboy?” one of the men frowned.
“I got a name,” Johnny glared, “and I’m actually off the clock. Busboy’s gone. Guy who’s gonna kick your ass if you don’t leave this lady alone is in charge.”
“Oh, yeah?” another man rolled his eyes. “There’s one of you and four of us. You’re all talk—”
“You wanna fucking try me?” Johnny grabbed the shirt of the guy, instantly making him go quiet with a gulp. “This lady said stop. She told you we have an anti-harassment policy. We can refuse service to anyone. Pay your damn check and get out.” Johnny let go of the man, nearly tossing him back into the booth’s cushion. Johnny turned around, gave one last glare to the men, before popping the collar of his jacket and heading to the back again to leave.
Neva kept staring at him in disbelief as he walked away.
A few minutes later, and Johnny had his bag slung on one shoulder and his helmet tucked under his other arm. He whistled and twirled his keys on his index finger, when he heard another voice.
“No, no, no!”
Johnny poked his head from the back of the building to see in the side parking lot, Neva staring at her car. The windows were smashed. The doors and sides had dents that weren’t there before. He was pretty sure something was leaking from under the car.
Johnny glanced over his shoulder at his bike. He still had a spare helmet from when Beth was alive and Ghost made him get one for her.
Johnny rolled his eyes and huffed. He shoved his hands further in his pockets with a pout and slight glare, then walked over to Neva.
“Hey,” he said. Neva jumped at it, turning fast to face him. She quickly brushed the tears and starting to trail mascara and blush from her face with a sniffle.
“It’s too late to call the local mechanics for help,” Johnny mumbled. “And I don’t have any of my tools. So, here.” He held out Beth’s old helmet to Neva. She blinked at it with a confused look. Johnny’s head sunk further into his popped collar. “Come on, don’t make me say it. I’ll give you a lift home and you can figure the car trouble out later.” Neva gently took the helmet, sniffed again and brushed some more tears away. Johnny led her to his motorcycle and buckled up his helmet. Neva clicked hers on.
“Just sit behind me and hold on,” Johnny instructed, sitting on the bike. “I like to go fast. I know the way to your apartment still, from when Beth had us help move you in.” Neva was silent, but climbed on behind Johnny. Her hands wrapped around his stomach as he started up the motorcycle, and drove away from the restaurant.
The drive was silent. Johnny drone fairly fast—he wanted to get her home ASAP and be over with her. As she adjusted her grip, Johnny glanced down at her arms.
From her wrist and a few inches past, were thin scars against her tan skin. Johnny quickly looked away from them and back at the rode. It was deja vu. He remembered driving Beth when she was alive and seeing her scars the first time. This felt all too similar.
At the apartment complex, Johnny parked the bike and followed Neva to her apartment. She shyly brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and never made eye contact with the young man.
“You didn’t have to walk me up here,” Neva turned her key into her door. “I don’t really have any problems with any male neighbors here.”
“Still,” Johnny mumbled. “You’re shaken. I can see it.”
“I’m… I’m not,” Neva sighed, opening the door to her apartment. Johnny shook his head.
“You’re a bad liar.”
Neva froze for a moment. She slowly shook her head, shaking the words off. Johnny could see the boxes he carried in still there.
“You haven’t had time to unpack?” he asked. Neva turned back to look at him.
“Not really,” she murmured. “Uh, you don’t have to stay in the hallway. Here, I’ll give you money to make up for wasting gas to get here.” Johnny adjusted his collar and huffed as he entered.
The plain apartment was barely decorated, brown boxes everywhere in the living room. He saw an ashtray on the coffee table, some dishes in the sink, and a single photo sitting on one of the side tables beside the sofa. It was a younger Neva, and a baby Beth. Presumably, the only moment they had spent together, shortly after she was born and shortly before she’d be sent off to be adopted.
He noticed another photo with Neva, about the same age as the other photo, accompanied by a dog and a man with curly red hair.
Johnny’s face felt hot at seeing it.
As Neva walked past it, without even noticing Johnny, she flipped the photo down against the side table.
“I’ve been too busy with work, applying for other jobs, and trying to spend time with Beth when she gets a day off,” Neva sighed. “And when… you and your dad don’t mind me coming to hang out with her.”
“Well, it would suck if I carried in all your stuff and it just stayed in boxes,” Johnny tapped his boot against one of the boxes. It was a small one labeled as only ‘memories’. “What’s this?”
“Stuff from high school and college,” Neva looked over the counter of the kitchen to see the box, as she counted dollars from one of the drawers. “It’s little things. Kind of random. That’s stuff I want to deal with last.”
“Why?”
“It’s miscellaneous. It’s mainly junk, too. Stuff I took out of storage from my last place but I can’t really sell or throw away.”
“Liiiiike?” Johnny raised a brow, looking down at the box. The flaps were already opened. He lifted his shoe to push one side open.
Neva handed him the money before he could finish.
“Thank you,” Neva murmured. “For everything. From the guys to taking me home. Thank you. You better get home, though. Ghost might be worried if you’re late.”
“Yeah,” Johnny gave a quiet chuckle. “He gets like that. Thanks, for the change. See ya.”
As he headed to the door to leave, he glanced over his shoulder at the photo of Neva and Beth.
He saw Neva staring at the photo she turned upside down and kicking the memories box to the side.
