Chpt 5. Bite Me
Trigger Warning: Immediate Cruelty to Squirrels, Attempted Murder, Threats of Violence, Graphic Imagery, Mentions of Abuse, Gay Vampires, Naughty Boys.
As I return to the grove, my mind is racing with the thoughts of everything that I've discovered. The sun's rays are still reaching over the horizon, turning the sky gold as evening approaches. It may be best to start setting up camp. I walk through the ivy gate and notice a small trail off to the right. It seems to be a shortcut into the inner sanctum, because I hear the chanting of the Rite of Thorns growing louder, ominous and unrelenting as I move down the path. There is a wooden platform at the end of the trail that will take me down into the ritual area with the pull of a lever. Convenient engineering on the druid's part. However, as I approach I catch the eye of a chittering red squirrel who begins to charge. I suppose it's guarding this entrance, because it launches itself at me with fury. I quickly catch it under my heel and crush it. A swift and merciful death for the little thing. The druids need better security. I scrape my boot on a stone nearby and step onto the platform, pulling the lever to make my way down.
Each killing, big or small, seems to flood my heart with new life. I am feeling more myself the more I kill. What am I, that I would take so much pleasure from something so profane? I need to keep myself collected for the sake of my own preservation, but there are moments where death grips me in a way that feels outside of my control. I want to kill with agency, and the thought that I may not be able to restrain myself sends chills down my spine. It's an intolerable prospect.
As the platform settles on the sanctum below, I hear the plucking of a lute and some faint singing. I glance around; the inner sanctum is an open-air temple, lush and alive with druid magic. At the center, surrounded by a ring of clear water, is their sacred idol of the God Silvanus. He's perched on a mossy pillar, glowing with verdant magic. The idea that a Tiefling girl could slip in a steal the damned thing in the middle of a ritual as intensive as this is laughable. It must have been an impressive heist, and I don't blame her for trying. Who knows how much longer these people have before the ritual is complete. My gaze sweeps the scene, landing on Gale and a Tiefling bard under a tent on a cliff’s ledge, its wooden columns carved with swirling patterns, overlooking the ritual below.
When I approach two red squirrels suddenly dash past me, screeching. I instinctively lift my foot, but they are out of sight in the blink of an eye. Tymora's Tits, this place is crawling with vermin. Gale looks over at me and smiles brightly, a naturally cheerful man, I can't tell if I like it or not yet. "You've made it back! We were wondering if you'd ever be done in there. How did the extraction go?"
I feign a grave expression. "She couldn't help, but I can catch you up later when we make camp. I have a lot to discuss with you. Do you know where the others are?"
Gale waves his hand, "Oh, they can't be too far."
The bard chimes in with a bit of frustration, "I appreciate the audience, but if you're going to talk could you please go somewhere else?"
We turn our attention to her, and my tail flicks behind me as her tone sparks something. Agitation? Intrigue? Hunger? The damned thing has a mind of its own. "I thought a chatting audience would be expected."
"If I were actually performing, but I'm practicing and trying to focus. This is important." I can hear the frustration in her voice.
"Important? Excuse my curiosity, but why is it so important?" I've never heard of a song being life or death before, but she's behaving like it is.
She glances at me, irritated with my probing despite my gentle approach, "Do you really care?"
I give an offhand shrug. "I'm asking."
She looks down at her lute and then another one laying on the ground next to her, "It's dedicated to my teacher, Lihala." Her tone quickly shifts from agitation to a gentle anguish.
Gale puts a hand to his heart, and he speaks softly, having caught her tone, "What happened?"
She doesn't look up, lost in the memory, "We escaped Elturel together. She was like a mother to me. When Zevlor brought us to these wilds we had such high hopes. But one night..." She’s silent for a moment, I see her eyes shift as she sees it all again replaying in her mind, "We didn't hear them coming, it was an ambush. Gnolls..." The memory cuts at her insides until a tear falls past her cheek, and tumbles helplessly to the ground.
I recall Zevlor mentioning Gnolls in the area, this attack must have been what drove them to the grove, "I'm so sorry to hear that. She must have meant a great deal to you to dedicate such a lovely song to her." The practice session sounded like ungodly caterwauling, but I suppose the loss explains that.
She shakes her head in frustration, "This song feels so inadequate, it doesn't say what I want to say. Like it's just ashes in my mouth." She suddenly gasps and Gale and I jump, startled by her excitement, "That's it!" She gets to her feet and begins to croon out the dedication to Lihala. Her tone is even and melodic and I can tell she's singing from a place deep within her heart. The song is a poetic tribute and as she finishes she gives a sigh of relief, a weight lifted from her shoulders.
Gale's face softens, warm and attentive to her feelings, "She would be so proud of you right now."
I follow his cue, offering a warm smile, "Evocative. Well done. She was clearly a remarkable teacher."
She smiles gratefully; her lamenting kindness strikes me in a way I can't explain. I feel hollow, and my focus narrows in on her eyes. My gut turns over, a faint crackling runs up my spine. The whispers start. So sweet. So innocent. So filled with hope and sorrow. So fragile. A porcelain doll. Crack her open. Smash her to pieces. Sift through her innards. The next words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them: "Do you want to travel with us? We could use some music on the road." My hand twitches. I mask the frustration at the momentary lapse of control. This one was small, but these impulses could have much graver consequences. Still, having a bard in our company would be nice. I wrangle back control of the moment. "My name is Vash Neel, and this is Gale."
Gale bows his head politely, "A true pleasure."
Her eyes go wide at the offer and she grabs her hair, twisting it in her hand, "Alfira." I see in her face that she's genuinely considering the offer, but a resolve in her eyes shows that something is holding her back, "No... I couldn't. I have obligations here. I appreciate the offer though!"
"Obligations? Is it something we can take care of for you?"
She laughs and blushes a little, "It's not really a something as much as it is a someone."
I give her a knowing smile. She's clearly leashed to a crush, "Ah. Understood. Well, if you change your mind we'll be camped just outside the gate."
She smiles brightly, though a vague sadness still lingers, "Thank you. Truly.”
We quickly find the others and set up camp right outside the gate as promised. Gale insists on preparing the meal for the evening, and once it's ready we gather around the campfire to eat and commune. I take this time to fill them in on what I learned after getting separated.
Gale looks at me gobsmacked, "You killed Nettie?"
His alarm is understandable, "Regrettable, but she gave me no choice. The minute we were alone she tried to strike, saying she needed the worm for her research. The only way she knew how to extract it was to kill me. She even had the body of a Drow laid out on an operating table having pulled the worm from that sorry sod's skull already."
Astarion sneers, "I guess we better be more careful who we tell about our little... condition."
"Agreed. She mentioned that Halsin, the last First Druid, had experience extracting tadpoles. She gave the impression that it was a procedure we could survive with a skilled enough healer. If he disappeared with Aradin's gang, then he's likely being held at the goblin camp. Perhaps we can find him and at least get more answers." I glance over at Astarion, "Aren't you going to eat anything? This is actually good."
I hear Gale stop mid-chew, "I'm sorry, what do you mean by actually good?"
Astarion waves his hand, "I'm sure it's fine, I just don't really have an appetite tonight. It's been a long day." He holds up a finger to keep my attention and then reaches into his pocket, "I do have this though, something I thought you might find very interesting."
Giving him a curious glance, I take it from him. It's a small, weathered note with a simple message. 'Kagha, Swamp-docks. Tree. Meet me. Alone. ~Olodon', "What is this?"
He shrugs, "No clue, but it does seem juicy, doesn't it? I found it while you were viciously strangling the Druid's last available healer."
A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips, "Where did you find it?"
"Hidden in the servants' quarters."
"Hidden?"
He nods, putting emphasis on his words to drive the point home, "Hidden quite cleverly in a locked chest behind one of the bookshelves."
His point is clear. It's a small note but the implications must be massive for Kagha. The idea of becoming her undoing is tantalizing, especially after witnessing her arrogance. She's so goddamn unlikable, it's a wonder she's gotten as far as she has in the druid circle.
Shadowheart looks over my shoulder, reading the note, I hold it up so she can get a better look. As she scans the contents she mutters, "We all have our secrets. This is peculiar though, I wonder what this 'Olodon' wanted with her."
I don't want to get distracted by irrelevant tosh while my life is on the line, no matter how interesting it might be. "Do you think it's pertinent to our situation?"
She stands looking down at me, "Right now I don't think so, but it could be useful for leverage in the future, you should hold onto it."
So, she's not just a sweet little cleric. That was actually good advice. I give her a playful grin, "Leverage? I didn't realize you were so well versed in subterfuge."
"Isn't it a good thing I am? I understand you had no choice when you killed Nettie, but in the long run we're not going to get far by bullying our way through this problem of ours. Such things often call for cunning." Her face is sly and knowing, with the pride of a schoolgirl who's outwitted the headmaster.
"I completely agree, a more calculated approach should be our priority, but we have to be ready to fight as a last resort. I'm not going to let anything stand in our way of a cure."
Shadowheart seems relieved by my pragmatism.
I glance back to Astarion, "Nice catch, please, keep your eye out for anything else like this. I don't want to get involved in the politics of this place, but Zevlor and Kagha have already tried to stick us in the middle of their little squabble. The most we can hope for is that we handle things swiftly and bloodlessly, if we can help it." My mind drifts to the thought of a slaughtered grove once more. I'd call it an intrusive thought if I hadn't discovered that violence is written on my heart.
He can't help but give me a cocky grin, "You'll soon find that I'm utterly invaluable, Darling."
"Clearly." A little nod to his ego. I tuck the note away and shift the subject back to the events of today, "I was able to hide Nettie's body in a back entrance to the grove. I wasn't ready to explain to the druids exactly why I had to kill her; it all seemed a bit messy." I watch their faces for any sign of discontent at my choices, but no one seems to flinch, though I see Gale shift where he sits. I temper my story and get to the point, "When I made it out, I came across a dying man and his two siblings. I approached to render aid, but the dying man surged into my mind, clearly infected like us, and telepathically told me to protect his siblings. He told them that I was something called a True Soul, and that they should obey me. Then he died, quick and peaceful. Have any of you heard of anyone called a True Soul?"
They each shared glances, but no one seemed to know.
Shadowheart grows visibly uncomfortable, softly gripping her satchel, "What were they doing out here to begin with?"
"They were cultists of that new goddess Zevlor mentioned, looking for survivors of the crash. Looking for us. They said we held a weapon The Absolute wanted found."
Her face remains stoic, but she's locked eyes with me, "And what did you say?"
"I told them to abandon their mission. I don't know what weapon they might be seeking from us, but I obviously couldn't have them snooping around. I used my status as a 'True Soul' to command them, and it worked for the most part, but the brother became belligerent, wanting to prove himself to me. He wouldn't take no for an answer, so I was forced to dispatch him, but the sister managed to escape me."
Lae'zel scoffs, "And you didn't hunt after her? A poor warrior to let your enemy escape so easily."
"Admittedly it was not ideal. Before I killed the brother they spoke of other True Souls stationed at the goblin camp. True Soul Minthara seems to be the one pushing for the weapon. We need to get into that camp and see what these True Souls know of our condition. If being infected is what makes you a True Soul, then perhaps they have a way to remove them? I plan to recruit Sazza using my apparent status, to gain easier access and see if I can't get some of our questions answered."
I feel Astarion's judgmental eyes on me and I glance over at him, he gives me the most insincere grin, "You seem to be quite comfortable leaning into being a True Soul."
He's right, being a True Soul feels like yet another missing piece of me that I've found once again. I match his grin, "I'm a Paladin, being a self-righteous prick is one of the things we do best."
"Ha! Gods at least you're self-aware."
I flash him a coy and playful smile, then turn back to Shadowheart, giving a subtle nod to her satchel, "I never asked you about that little device of yours. What is it?"
She quickly lets go of the bag and her whole-body tenses, "Nothing. It's just... sentimental. I'm going to turn in for the night, I'll see the rest of you in the morning." She turns on her heel and with a well-practiced calm makes her way to her tent at the far end of the camp.
The others look at each other, but I wave them off, "Let her go."
Gale takes a deep breath, "You're right. I see no reason to pry into it now. It's been a long day."
Lae'zel snipes back at him, "Oh? What about her makes her so worthy of our trust? Are people of this realm so accustomed to tolerating deception?"
He responds with a scholar's confidence, "Sometimes, yes. Especially in a situation like ours, we must have some trust between us. There's no use in sowing discord among ourselves now. We've only just found each other and survived quite effectively I might add. Gods willing, we can see this through to the end and be cured of these blasted worms."
His mediation of the tension is admirable, and I back his position, "You're right, Gale. We also need to consider that Shadowheart’s past is lost to her. She will only be able to share what she remembers. I’m no stranger to that myself; I have gaps in my memory as well, like half-forgotten dreams I can’t quite grasp. If what she's clinging to matters, we lose nothing by protecting her until we get clearer answers."
I see Lae'zel recoil, loath to put so much value on Shadowheart, but she says nothing.
Gale seems shocked at this revelation, "Gaps in your memories, what do you mean?"
I gesture to my ruined mind, "I have precious few memories of my life before waking up on the nautiloid. Some things have been resurfacing, but I must admit, it's been unsettling having to piece things back together. Have you experienced the same?"
"Not at all." Gale considers me for a moment, folding his arms as he processes the conundrum, "Maybe the tadpole affects us differently?"
"That's what I thought. When Shadowheart and I discovered our shared condition, she admitted hers happened before the tadpole, however, she refused to expand on the matter. Yet another mystery from our dark cleric."
A pause and I see the thoughts churning in Gale's mind. I shift my tone to a more casual resolve, "Either way there isn't much to be done about it, let's consider it settled for now." The others agree and the matter is dropped. We eventually retire for our first night in the wilds, hoping beyond hope we actually wake in the morning.
The night passes in phases. I find myself sunken wistfully into the bowels of my mind only to be jolted to the forefront of consciousness again and again. How long I had been trying to sleep I don't know, but as I lay playing this tug of war in my brain I feel a gentle breeze brush past my cheek. As I open my eyes, I see Astarion, placing his hand next to me to gain balance as he hovers over my neck, his teeth bared, ready to bite.
He notices me wake up and quickly sits back to give me space, he smiles vaguely and goes to speak, but I snatch his throat before he can say a single fucking word. “I don’t want to hear it...” He gags and grabs my arm as I lift him into the air, standing and watching his face. A panic sets in as he kicks his dangling feet instinctively. I pace the camp, and after a moment he settles into an unatural calm. Our eyes lock as he waits for what comes next, completely at my mercy.
"When I agreed to travel with you, it was in good faith despite your fucking antics." I walk past Gale’s tent, the sound of the night fading into the background behind my own racing thoughts. "What about the others? Were you going to pick us off one by one? Did you go for me first because I was the biggest threat?"
Astarion watches me, he’s focused on me with a measured intensity, calculating, as he takes in my words. I get a sense this isn't the first time he’s been threatened to this degree.
I pull him in close, my voice harsh, tail flicking, "I'm going to lay you down, place your head under my boot, and crush it. Slowly. I'm going to savor the feeling of your skin ripping, the seams of your skull popping as your head buckles under the pressure." I'm salivating at the prospect, yearning deeply to become his undoing. I feel a crackling run up my spine and I begin to smile. "Will you scream for me, Astarion? Will you survive? Will you stumble around camp my little ruptured husk? Will your head grow back? Will I get to do it again?" He's trying to hide the panic in his eyes, but I see his resolve begin to fade. “You elves are so funny; you live for centuries, yet you die in the dumbest fucking ways.” My limbs begin to twitch with anticipation, but then the notion strikes me-have I gone mad? Astarion is a foolish man, self-serving, too cocky, but this is indulgent. A waste of a good rogue in the name of blood sport. Chills surge through me again and again as I fight to get a hold of myself. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and focus. I stop and I think Astarion can see what I'm trying to do. I feel his grip tighten on me. Whether he intended for it to or not, it comforts me. I feel my lucidity return and look back up into his eyes. His brow is furrowed but he seems calm. We watch each other a moment more and I drop him. My voice is even, but my tone seethes with caution. "Astarion. Don’t test me again."
He looks up at me with resentment, rubbing his neck. "Good gods... What is wrong with you?" He looks like a cat with wounded pride but no worse for wear.
My eyes grow wide at his audacity. "What is wrong with me? You should be kissing my feet right now!"
He sneers with white hot venom, "Please, if my lips have to get anywhere near your feet, it will only be because you're crushing my skull in. I'd rather fucking die, Darling." He lands the final word like a dagger to my heart.
I throw my hands in the air. "Can't you take anything seriously?"
Scoffing, he shifts and folds his arms with a controlled swagger. "Not if I can help it. Have you considered lightening up? It was just going to be a nibble." He's pouty for a moment before shifting into a wry smile. "Maybe invest more time in looking less delicious."
My hair stands on end. He's trying to flatter me, even after everything that's just happened. The spine on this man is ironclad. I stare at him, letting the silence stretch before finally pointing at my bedroll. "Sit."
The flash of victory on his face makes him look more punchable than usual. He makes himself at home and watches me in anticipation.
I take a deep breath, taking a final moment to calm myself. Then I begin, "How long have you been a vampire?"
"224 years."
"And before then?"
"I was a magistrate in Baldur's Gate."
"How old were you when you were turned?"
"I don't know why that matters, but I was 39."
A taunting grin crosses my face. "Oh, so you were a baby." Elves don't consider their kind adults until they turn 100 at least. By elven standards he was just a boy when he was turned, despite nearly being 40. He never got a chance to experience life the way it was intended for his kind. His plight as a vampire is a bastardization of what life should have been for him.
Astarion scoffs with a flattered smile, "Excuse me. I had a job, lived my life, just like any other Baldurian."
I'm matching his smile, despite myself. "How often do you need to kill people for food?"
He puts his hand on his chest with offense. "I haven't killed anyone for food, how dare you."
I lift an eyebrow, skeptical at his assertion. "Nobody?"
He hesitates. He clearly doesn't want to get into it, but he knows the position he's in with me is tenuous. "...I haven't been feeding on people. I had been planning to hunt in the wilds. Maybe I could catch some boar or rabbits…" a pause, "maybe some kobolds."
Another strange assertion, admittedly I don't know a lot about vampires. "If you haven't been feeding on people then what did you do in Baldur's Gate?"
"I had my food provided for me in the city. Though it was never thinking creatures. In all honesty... you would have been my first." He looks down and fidgets with his fingernails, visibly uncomfortable.
I give an abrupt laugh, "Really? Very first? I'm flattered." Astarion and I share a brief smile, and I consider my next question. "If you had bitten me, wouldn't I have turned?"
"Not at all. I'm just a vampire spawn. I wouldn't be capable of turning you into a true vampire, or even another spawn."
"A true vampire. So, there is, or was, a true vampire out there that turned you all those years ago?"
He becomes bereft of his casually smug attitude. "Yes." His quiet response unnerves me.
I wait for him to continue, then my face falls and my heart becomes cold, "I need you to think carefully about your next words. Are you in contact with them? Are you going to bring them to our camp? Are you loyal to them still?"
He gives me a weary look, "No." He lowers his voice, as if the vampire can hear us speaking, "I am not loyal to him, and I don't feel him anymore. Not since waking up with the tadpole in my head. Things have changed, but to what degree, I'm not sure."
"Lay it out plain, Astarion. I need to understand what's going on."
He lowers his head, his body shrinking as his mind shifts to a place somewhere far from here. Even his voice sounds distant. "Can we talk about this another time? It's been one day. I'm not ready for this."
I look down at the small man in front of me. Deflated. Broken somehow. "You brought this on yourself when you tried to attack me." I consider him and decide to rein in my questions and try to stick to what's pertinent for now, "Are we in danger, from you, or any other vampires that might be roaming these wilds? Are there any vampires coming for us? And how can I trust you to be telling me the truth after everything you've done?"
Astarion looks at me, and for the first time, his eyes look uncharacteristically sincere. I would never have guessed he was capable of such a thing. "I swear, I am not a danger to anyone in this company. As for the Vampire, I'm fairly certain we are safe for now. If that changes, I will let you know. You can trust me because we are in the same boat. I want to survive just like you." His face lightens into gentle melancholy. "Vash, I understand you're measuring the risk I pose, so let me offer you some perspective." He closes his eyes and looks up at the night sky, gathering his thoughts, then says a simple phrase. "I haven't felt the sun in two centuries."
I'm taken aback. Two centuries and he finally gets to feel the warmth of the sun on his skin. It must feel better than sex. "Astarion."
He turns his eyes to me once more, "This tadpole has given me my life back. I'm finally free! Admittedly, I've been reckless with you. I apologize for my chaotic behavior. A leopard can't change its spots, tadpole be damned, but believe me when I say I want to live."
I side-eye him, "Do you even want a cure?"
He simply shakes his head, "I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. Cure myself from the tadpole and return to the Vampire's thrall or keep the tadpole and become an Illithid. Again, it's only been a day, and those are existential questions I'd rather let sit for now while I get used to this new reality of mine."
I respect that and give him space to breathe, shifting my questions, "So with all that running through your mind, why try to drink my blood? After 224 years, why try something so godsdamned reckless tonight?"
He leans back and looks at the withering embers. He's quiet for a while, "You could call it hunger, but it came with a restless curiosity." His foot begins to shake, "The vampire I was bound to had command over my body. I'd never drunk the blood of thinking creatures because he never allowed me the free will to do so."
My breath catches and I say my next words softly, "You were a slave..."
The sadness in his eyes pierces my empty heart. He says nothing more.
"So, you risked your life because you were curious to see if you were still bound to his control."
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, "Yes. That would be the sum of it."
I pause for a moment, considering these revelations. Why was his master so intent on keeping him from drinking the blood of thinking creatures? What will it do to him? What would it do to me? ...How would it feel to have my blood drained? I come to a decision on the matter, "Let's do it."
His looks stunned, and responds in a flat tone, "What?" He didn't realize I had been considering it.
"Let's see if you can and if so, what it does for you. I'm curious. You can drink my blood, just don't take more than you need."
"I-... thank you. If at any point you want me to stop just let me know." Life seems to be coming back to him, as he allows himself to get excited at the prospect.
"I will." His excitement is feeding mine. This certainly isn't how I thought I would be spending my evening, but I'm looking forward to the experience. We get into position; I lay back down on my bedroll and present my neck.
A familiar scene: Astarion placing his hand next to me to gain balance as he hovers over my neck, his teeth bared, ready to bite. As he does, it feels like a blade of fire and ice piercing my skin. I feel electric, bolts of pleasure shoot through me, and to my surprise, it feels incredibly erotic. The pain feeds my pleasure in an unexpected feedback loop of sensations, my body rushing with pleasurable tremors. My hand gently moves to the back of his calf, gripping him firmly, almost possessive.
I feel him smile as he softly slides his hand behind my head, threading his fingers through my hair before gripping tightly. I take a sharp breath in, and I can smell my blood as he drinks me voraciously, smearing on my neck in a sticky, fragrant mess.
Fuck. I was not expecting this.
It hurts, but gods, it hurts wonderfully. I could lay here forever and let him take everything from me, leaving me to welcome the clean embrace of eternity. It's not for today though, so I do the math. I'm 200cm (6' 7"), not including my horns, 115kg (~250lbs), so I have approx. 8 liters of blood, and I'm only willing to spare 1 liter at most. I'm already starting to feel myself ebbing away. A taste of peace. With remorse, I gently place my hand on his chest, "That's enough."
Astarion's lack of a heartbeat catches me off guard. I'm fully aware he is undead, but I like to use pulse to get a read on people. Astarion will remain a tightly locked diary of his own thoughts and feelings.
"Hmmm?" He let's go immediately, sitting back, euphoria dancing in his eyes, like my blood made him high, "Gods..."
I sit up and place a hand on my neck as I continue to leak blood. "Fetch me a rag, I'm a little too lightheaded to stand."
I note he's staring at me with a post-coital glow, his eyes drifting across my body, lost in thought. My request finally sinks in, "Oh! Of course!" He dashes to his tent and returns with a silken kerchief.
I place it on my neck and look at him expectantly, "So, how do you feel?"
A genuine smile of controlled elation. "I don't think my head has ever been so clear. I feel powerful, I feel... happy." He says the word as if he felt he'd never feel such a thing again.
"I'm glad I could help; I look forward to seeing you fight."
He laughs, "Indeed! Now that the truth is out, I can use all the tools at my disposal." He stands and stretches, almost as if he's trying to make sure the feeling permeates every corner of his body. "I still feel that aching hunger, but I think with this new vigor, I may have a chance at finding prey in the wilds." He looks down at me, and I meet his eyes, after a moment passes he kneels once more, and grips the back of my head again. His control over me sends another pulse of pleasure through me. "You've given me a powerful gift. I won't forget it."
I smile and watch as he turns and leaves. Only time will tell if it did any good. We'll see. I just hope he didn't notice how horny that made me. I'll take care of it later. We've got a lot to do tomorrow; I need to rest.