Sailor Moon Fic: villains to pecularity
Oh today. Is it really Wednesday? I think I had too much coffee. But really this is about the feelings, and as I have them, and as most of it, as always, is tosca1390's fault, this is for her. One day I'm going to post meta about Sailor V and Sailor Moon and how juxtapositions and parallels have changed everything. IT'S COMPLICATED OKAY.
villains to pecularity
once they could have been little girls that talk about love. usagi does not know how to stand still. middles are important. sailor moon | usagi, kris | 2,537 words, PG.
-
Usagi buys the coffee.
She won’t drink it. It’s a taste thing.
He picks the table anyway. She finds him when she turns around, settling in a corner too close to the door. She’s buried in her coat, Mamoru’s scarf wrapped around her throat.
“You’re so weird, Kris,” she murmurs.
He laughs, low. He shrugs and sinks into his seat. She takes the space across from him. She’s careful with his coffee and then pushes it across the table to his hands. Her fingers graze his knuckles.
“Drink,” she says gently.
“Is it strong?”
Her eyes roll. “Strong enough,” she says.
“Are you going to take your jacket off?” he asks, and she shakes her head, motioning to the coffee. She watches, amused. He brings the cup to his mouth. He pauses and then she watches his throat swallow.
“Yes.” She pulls at her scarf. “We’ll be here for awhile.”
“Oh yeah?”
She laughs. His mouth twitches. He shakes his head too.
“You didn’t have to do this,” he says.
“I don’t have to do a lot of things,” she counters. Her lips twitch and she shakes her head. “But I do them,” she says. “And you’re just as important to me as everyone else - so let’s save the silliness for some other time.”
“Is that an order?”
Usagi glares. He chuckles. He holds his hands up.
It’s then that she notices that the coffee shop is half-empty. Somewhere there are too many students itching to escape to their afternoon. She remembers that feeling with an odd kind of nostalgia, coloring the edges of her heart. But it wasn’t hers to have, she thinks. Some days, it’s still hard to even acknowledge that.
“You have to let her come to you,” she murmurs then.
Kris’ eyes are wide and blue. He tilts his head, his bangs sliding into his face. The rest of his hair falls into a neat braid over his shoulder.
“I know,” he says.
“Do you?”
He laughs, but the sound is slight, hoarse. He picks up the coffee and brings it to his mouth. When he swallows again, she relaxes back into her seat.
“Sometimes,” he admits. He sighs. “I understand that I cannot fix it immediately.”
They are both quiet then. Usagi moves her gaze to the window.
There is no surprise that Kris has come to her. The others, the balance between Mamoru and the girls, between pleading and reassurances, and a mix of worlds that is so familiar to Usagi, ageless and just as cruel as it was in the beginning.
She returns home first. Mamoru’s shoes greet her by the door. She smiles a little, kicking her boots next to his.
“I thought you were going to be late!” she calls.
He appears in the archway of their kitchen. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms against his chest.
“I was worried,” he admits, and flushes.
She laughs. “Mamo-chan,” she scolds.
“Can you blame me?”
Her eyes dance. “You’re going to get wrinkles.”
“You’ll still love me,” he says.
She laughs and shrugs out of her coat, hanging it by the door. His scarf hangs lose over her shoulders and she tugs it gently.
“He’s fine,” she says.
He shrugs. “I know.” He pushes himself away from the door, moving to her. “I remember how close the two of you are,” he says, and she waits for it, that hint of worry, the same edge that the girls now hold in their voices.
She is between them now. She knew this was coming. For her, this is less about history and more about moving forward. She can hear Rei in her head, calling her naïve and almost wants to laugh.
But it’s different for Kris, different for Minako; neither will say it, but she knows, like her own, their history begun long before anything else came into play. This is also isn’t her business, she thinks. There is her own history with the former general - or the soon-to-be general, really. She can now pick and choose. There is plenty to think about and that remains absolute.
Usagi reaches for Mamoru.
“I’m not jumping in front of swords,” she says lightly, and he scoffs. Her fingers curl in his shirt. “Bad joke?”
“Usa,” he warns.
She shakes her head. “I’m just listening, Mamo-chan.”
He’s quiet. He leans forward, his mouth grazing her forehead. She feels him sigh. Her fingers relax against his chest.
“Do you trust him?” he asks.
“That’s a complicated question.”
Mamoru laughs tiredly. “Is it usually?” His fingers graze the back of her neck, his nails scraping lightly at her hair. “I don’t know what to make of them.”
“No one is telling you that you have to do anything, Mamo-chan.”
“I just don’t understand how easy this is for you,” he sighs into her hair. She pauses and then he nuzzles her. “That isn’t what I mean,” he corrects. “I just - I look at them and I see things, I see my memories and then I see the last couple of years and I just don’t know how to fit them into this.”
“We have time,” she says gently.
The words are soft. She tastes them and then she sighs. She holds so much in for them. She prefers it this way. There is plenty to know, plenty that she has already seen. A wise future is not a set future, she thinks. But she already accepts that her path is written in some shape or form, from the cosmos to the corners of the universe, to the power pulsing inside of her; steady at her fingertips and growing.
Her gaze meets Mamoru’s. She touches his face. Her fingers catch at his jaw and she smiles a little.
“Remember,” she starts, “how you asked me if I saw you as Endymoin?”
He snorts. “Not one of my better moments.”
“True,” she says dryly. She squeals when his fingers press into her hips. She bats his hand away, laughing. “My point,” she says. “My point is that I don’t see any of you as past, present, or future - you exist to me as you are, I love you just as you are. I can’t make you accept that. It’s something all of you are going to have to do on your own.”
“I know,” he murmurs.
Usagi rolls her eyes when he smiles. Her fingers graze his mouth.
“All of you are the same, you know.”
“I don’t know how comforting that is,” he mutters.
Usagi laughs, leaning up to kiss him. Her mouth brushes over his and she smiles too.
“I think you’ll be fine, Mamo-chan,” she says.
Minako is next. This is different. Between her and Minako, they walk a strange sense of parallels: falling in love, growing up, and acceptance all wrapped together.
They usually walk in the mornings. It is a tradition; mornings with Minako, tea with Setsuna before dinner (although there is Minako and Mamoru too, stumbling into her meetings with the time guardian because they are that overprotective) and in between those, there are the girls and her parents, friends that she is trying to recommit to. Now there are the generals and Kris, Kunzite who was such an integral part of her life before.
But Minako is late and it’s just before Usagi finds a bench to sit and wait, that the older girl links an arm through her arm to hold her up.
“Hey,” she greets.
“Mina-chan.”
Minako grins a little. She leans her head against her shoulder and they start to walk.
“I’m not going to talk about it,” Usagi tells her.
“I didn’t ask.”
Her lips curl. “But you will.”
Minako sighs. Her hair falls loosely against her shoulders, over her coat. She tugs impatiently at the strands.
“I don’t know what to say to him,” Minako confesses, as she has many times before. It’s a reassurance and Usagi lets her best friend have it.
“This isn’t about problem solving,” she says softly.
Minako’s smile is grim. “I’m good at problem solving,” she says. Her fingers squeeze against her elbow. “And if I remember correctly, he was too.”
Usagi says nothing. There is a fine picture in her head: Kunzite, Kris and Minako, Venus standing against a wide backdrop. It was a day much like today, she thinks. There is the park, the sun against the sky; you can easily switch into gardens, the expanse and smell of flowers, the crystalline colors of the grass and trees.
It was never about the reassurance, that much she can attest to - Minako is the same as she was then, full of life, then oh so, so serious, the call of her duty both self-appointed and natural. It is easy to say: she knows Minako will kill for her and will not hesitate. But it is another thing to understand.
“He isn’t asking you to love him,” she murmurs.
Minako catches her gaze and frown. Her eyes are dark.
“I know,” she says. Then she reaches forward, tucking some of Usagi’s hair behind her ear. “Maybe that’s the problem?”
“You should just live your life,” Usagi tells her. “I don’t want anything less.”
Minako snorts. “Appealing to my overbearing sense of duty, Usa-chan?”
She laughs and shrugs.
“I have to try something.”
They come to a pass at the park. The path verges and splits. If they go one way, they circle back and it’s to the entrance and the temple. The other way leads deeper into the city and the noise.
Usagi blinks and sees crystal. She sees the sun, high and rising. She feels the cool air at her throat and swallows.
“You’re going to need him,” she says quietly, and Minako’s gaze is quick to turn on her. She feels the weight and shifts her hand into her friend’s. Their fingers link and she tugs her into walking. “This isn’t about me not trusting your abilities, or the others, or even Mamo-chan’s. But you deserve to have someone who isn’t me. You have your life, Mina-chan.”
Minako’s swallow is loud. Her lips purse. Usagi shakes her head, smiling.
“You’re the worst,” Minako says hoarsely.
“Eh.” She shrugs and softens. “Mamo-chan tells me all the time,” she says.
And she wishes there were other memories, smaller memories - beyond the memories of a kingdom and a mother that were never meant to be hers for more time than she was given. She likes to think that they were girls then too, maybe even smaller but just as bright. Sometimes she thinks she can even feel Venus’ hands threading through her hair, her the child, Venus the sister, as they talked over braids and flowers and laughter. But she’s always had plenty of precious memories, she thinks, and that is something they all need to start understanding.
The two of them were meant to be just as steady as this.
“You’re worried,” Kris says with amusement.
The coffee burns her tongue. She wrinkles her nose and then glares at him.
“I am not,” she says. They sit at the same table in the café, Kris with coffee and Usagi holding one for Mamoru. “I still don’t understand how people drink black coffee. It’s so, so bitter.”
The older man laughs. He leans back against his seat, rubbing his neck. He looks to the window and she watches the lines grab at his mouth, the slight frown curling against his lips. It’s not strange to watch, but she sighs still.
“Mamo-chan said he was going to be late,” she says.
“The hospital?”
“Mmm.” Usagi nods. “He was lecturing today too. Minako was going to walk with him on her way here.”
“Did you bribe them?” Kris teases. His voice is dry. She watches the worry lines press against his forehead. He’s teasing and she rolls her eyes, reaching forward to flick her fingers against his forehead.
“You’re such a baby,” she says.
He flushes. She grins, pointing her finger at him. Her eyes dance and Kris seems to relax, sinking back against his seat again.
Then he’s serious. “They’re doing this for you,” he says quietly.
“You’re selling yourself short.”
He shakes his head. “It’s easier for the others - or just different,” he corrects himself. “I was,” he stops and corrects himself again, “I am the Prince’s principle guard. My responsibilities are his life, and -“
She stops him, reaching forward and dropping her hand over his. Her fingers curl against his palm. His gaze is heavy.
“Let me worry about that,” she says.
His surprise is quick. She watches it open against his face. His eyes widen. She bites the inside of her cheek, but doesn’t smile.
Then it’s simple: the door open and closes, and Minako and Mamoru both enter the coffee shop. Mamoru spots her first and they move to their table. Minako escapes with a shy greeting, dragging a chair to the head of the table and not meeting Kris’ gaze. Mamoru merely nods at him.
He sits with her too. He leans in and presses his mouth against her jaw. His fingers catch over her scarf, tugging it from her throat.
“Mamo-chan,” she murmurs.
He grins against her skin and she flushes.
“Sorry,” he says. “But it’s still my scarf.”
She smacks his arm.
She then turns to Kris and to Minako, who rests stiffly in her seat. Her shoulders are straight and Kris is studying his coffee.
“This needs to stop,” she says.
Minako meets her gaze. Her eyes are wide. Mamoru tenses next to her.
“The same goes for the others too,” she tells them, and Kris is the only one, really, how does not look surprise. “I am not asking you to be friends, I am asking you to co-exist and I think that, in itself, is fair enough.”
“Usa-chan,” Minako murmurs.
But Usagi shakes her head. Her hair drags over her eyes. She reaches for her tea then, cupping it between her palms.
“The first step is always like a hello,” she says lightly. Mamoru’s arm drops around her shoulder. It’s Kris that laughs though. “And really,” she adds. “I really don’t want to pout. That’s a lot of effort. So don’t make me pout.”
The three of them stare at her. She will laugh later. Instead, she turns and presses a kiss against Mamoru’s cheek. Her ring catches over his jacket and she’s sliding out of the booth, kissing Minako’s cheek too.
Her fingers brush her friend’s hair from her face. Then, she meets Kris’s gaze.
“I know you’ll take good care of them,” she says.
And maybe it’s just as much of a warning as it is acceptance, and the color of her voice is no different than her smile, just as soft, just as warm. She stands in front of the three of them and she still remains somewhat serious. It may be in her eyes, or just in the way that she holds herself, too tall, too sudden, and too soon.
It’s really never too soon, she thinks as she turns away.
They all watch her go. She hides a smile that way.
villains to pecularity
once they could have been little girls that talk about love. usagi does not know how to stand still. middles are important. sailor moon | usagi, kris | 2,537 words, PG.
-
Usagi buys the coffee.
She won’t drink it. It’s a taste thing.
He picks the table anyway. She finds him when she turns around, settling in a corner too close to the door. She’s buried in her coat, Mamoru’s scarf wrapped around her throat.
“You’re so weird, Kris,” she murmurs.
He laughs, low. He shrugs and sinks into his seat. She takes the space across from him. She’s careful with his coffee and then pushes it across the table to his hands. Her fingers graze his knuckles.
“Drink,” she says gently.
“Is it strong?”
Her eyes roll. “Strong enough,” she says.
“Are you going to take your jacket off?” he asks, and she shakes her head, motioning to the coffee. She watches, amused. He brings the cup to his mouth. He pauses and then she watches his throat swallow.
“Yes.” She pulls at her scarf. “We’ll be here for awhile.”
“Oh yeah?”
She laughs. His mouth twitches. He shakes his head too.
“You didn’t have to do this,” he says.
“I don’t have to do a lot of things,” she counters. Her lips twitch and she shakes her head. “But I do them,” she says. “And you’re just as important to me as everyone else - so let’s save the silliness for some other time.”
“Is that an order?”
Usagi glares. He chuckles. He holds his hands up.
It’s then that she notices that the coffee shop is half-empty. Somewhere there are too many students itching to escape to their afternoon. She remembers that feeling with an odd kind of nostalgia, coloring the edges of her heart. But it wasn’t hers to have, she thinks. Some days, it’s still hard to even acknowledge that.
“You have to let her come to you,” she murmurs then.
Kris’ eyes are wide and blue. He tilts his head, his bangs sliding into his face. The rest of his hair falls into a neat braid over his shoulder.
“I know,” he says.
“Do you?”
He laughs, but the sound is slight, hoarse. He picks up the coffee and brings it to his mouth. When he swallows again, she relaxes back into her seat.
“Sometimes,” he admits. He sighs. “I understand that I cannot fix it immediately.”
They are both quiet then. Usagi moves her gaze to the window.
There is no surprise that Kris has come to her. The others, the balance between Mamoru and the girls, between pleading and reassurances, and a mix of worlds that is so familiar to Usagi, ageless and just as cruel as it was in the beginning.
She returns home first. Mamoru’s shoes greet her by the door. She smiles a little, kicking her boots next to his.
“I thought you were going to be late!” she calls.
He appears in the archway of their kitchen. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms against his chest.
“I was worried,” he admits, and flushes.
She laughs. “Mamo-chan,” she scolds.
“Can you blame me?”
Her eyes dance. “You’re going to get wrinkles.”
“You’ll still love me,” he says.
She laughs and shrugs out of her coat, hanging it by the door. His scarf hangs lose over her shoulders and she tugs it gently.
“He’s fine,” she says.
He shrugs. “I know.” He pushes himself away from the door, moving to her. “I remember how close the two of you are,” he says, and she waits for it, that hint of worry, the same edge that the girls now hold in their voices.
She is between them now. She knew this was coming. For her, this is less about history and more about moving forward. She can hear Rei in her head, calling her naïve and almost wants to laugh.
But it’s different for Kris, different for Minako; neither will say it, but she knows, like her own, their history begun long before anything else came into play. This is also isn’t her business, she thinks. There is her own history with the former general - or the soon-to-be general, really. She can now pick and choose. There is plenty to think about and that remains absolute.
Usagi reaches for Mamoru.
“I’m not jumping in front of swords,” she says lightly, and he scoffs. Her fingers curl in his shirt. “Bad joke?”
“Usa,” he warns.
She shakes her head. “I’m just listening, Mamo-chan.”
He’s quiet. He leans forward, his mouth grazing her forehead. She feels him sigh. Her fingers relax against his chest.
“Do you trust him?” he asks.
“That’s a complicated question.”
Mamoru laughs tiredly. “Is it usually?” His fingers graze the back of her neck, his nails scraping lightly at her hair. “I don’t know what to make of them.”
“No one is telling you that you have to do anything, Mamo-chan.”
“I just don’t understand how easy this is for you,” he sighs into her hair. She pauses and then he nuzzles her. “That isn’t what I mean,” he corrects. “I just - I look at them and I see things, I see my memories and then I see the last couple of years and I just don’t know how to fit them into this.”
“We have time,” she says gently.
The words are soft. She tastes them and then she sighs. She holds so much in for them. She prefers it this way. There is plenty to know, plenty that she has already seen. A wise future is not a set future, she thinks. But she already accepts that her path is written in some shape or form, from the cosmos to the corners of the universe, to the power pulsing inside of her; steady at her fingertips and growing.
Her gaze meets Mamoru’s. She touches his face. Her fingers catch at his jaw and she smiles a little.
“Remember,” she starts, “how you asked me if I saw you as Endymoin?”
He snorts. “Not one of my better moments.”
“True,” she says dryly. She squeals when his fingers press into her hips. She bats his hand away, laughing. “My point,” she says. “My point is that I don’t see any of you as past, present, or future - you exist to me as you are, I love you just as you are. I can’t make you accept that. It’s something all of you are going to have to do on your own.”
“I know,” he murmurs.
Usagi rolls her eyes when he smiles. Her fingers graze his mouth.
“All of you are the same, you know.”
“I don’t know how comforting that is,” he mutters.
Usagi laughs, leaning up to kiss him. Her mouth brushes over his and she smiles too.
“I think you’ll be fine, Mamo-chan,” she says.
Minako is next. This is different. Between her and Minako, they walk a strange sense of parallels: falling in love, growing up, and acceptance all wrapped together.
They usually walk in the mornings. It is a tradition; mornings with Minako, tea with Setsuna before dinner (although there is Minako and Mamoru too, stumbling into her meetings with the time guardian because they are that overprotective) and in between those, there are the girls and her parents, friends that she is trying to recommit to. Now there are the generals and Kris, Kunzite who was such an integral part of her life before.
But Minako is late and it’s just before Usagi finds a bench to sit and wait, that the older girl links an arm through her arm to hold her up.
“Hey,” she greets.
“Mina-chan.”
Minako grins a little. She leans her head against her shoulder and they start to walk.
“I’m not going to talk about it,” Usagi tells her.
“I didn’t ask.”
Her lips curl. “But you will.”
Minako sighs. Her hair falls loosely against her shoulders, over her coat. She tugs impatiently at the strands.
“I don’t know what to say to him,” Minako confesses, as she has many times before. It’s a reassurance and Usagi lets her best friend have it.
“This isn’t about problem solving,” she says softly.
Minako’s smile is grim. “I’m good at problem solving,” she says. Her fingers squeeze against her elbow. “And if I remember correctly, he was too.”
Usagi says nothing. There is a fine picture in her head: Kunzite, Kris and Minako, Venus standing against a wide backdrop. It was a day much like today, she thinks. There is the park, the sun against the sky; you can easily switch into gardens, the expanse and smell of flowers, the crystalline colors of the grass and trees.
It was never about the reassurance, that much she can attest to - Minako is the same as she was then, full of life, then oh so, so serious, the call of her duty both self-appointed and natural. It is easy to say: she knows Minako will kill for her and will not hesitate. But it is another thing to understand.
“He isn’t asking you to love him,” she murmurs.
Minako catches her gaze and frown. Her eyes are dark.
“I know,” she says. Then she reaches forward, tucking some of Usagi’s hair behind her ear. “Maybe that’s the problem?”
“You should just live your life,” Usagi tells her. “I don’t want anything less.”
Minako snorts. “Appealing to my overbearing sense of duty, Usa-chan?”
She laughs and shrugs.
“I have to try something.”
They come to a pass at the park. The path verges and splits. If they go one way, they circle back and it’s to the entrance and the temple. The other way leads deeper into the city and the noise.
Usagi blinks and sees crystal. She sees the sun, high and rising. She feels the cool air at her throat and swallows.
“You’re going to need him,” she says quietly, and Minako’s gaze is quick to turn on her. She feels the weight and shifts her hand into her friend’s. Their fingers link and she tugs her into walking. “This isn’t about me not trusting your abilities, or the others, or even Mamo-chan’s. But you deserve to have someone who isn’t me. You have your life, Mina-chan.”
Minako’s swallow is loud. Her lips purse. Usagi shakes her head, smiling.
“You’re the worst,” Minako says hoarsely.
“Eh.” She shrugs and softens. “Mamo-chan tells me all the time,” she says.
And she wishes there were other memories, smaller memories - beyond the memories of a kingdom and a mother that were never meant to be hers for more time than she was given. She likes to think that they were girls then too, maybe even smaller but just as bright. Sometimes she thinks she can even feel Venus’ hands threading through her hair, her the child, Venus the sister, as they talked over braids and flowers and laughter. But she’s always had plenty of precious memories, she thinks, and that is something they all need to start understanding.
The two of them were meant to be just as steady as this.
“You’re worried,” Kris says with amusement.
The coffee burns her tongue. She wrinkles her nose and then glares at him.
“I am not,” she says. They sit at the same table in the café, Kris with coffee and Usagi holding one for Mamoru. “I still don’t understand how people drink black coffee. It’s so, so bitter.”
The older man laughs. He leans back against his seat, rubbing his neck. He looks to the window and she watches the lines grab at his mouth, the slight frown curling against his lips. It’s not strange to watch, but she sighs still.
“Mamo-chan said he was going to be late,” she says.
“The hospital?”
“Mmm.” Usagi nods. “He was lecturing today too. Minako was going to walk with him on her way here.”
“Did you bribe them?” Kris teases. His voice is dry. She watches the worry lines press against his forehead. He’s teasing and she rolls her eyes, reaching forward to flick her fingers against his forehead.
“You’re such a baby,” she says.
He flushes. She grins, pointing her finger at him. Her eyes dance and Kris seems to relax, sinking back against his seat again.
Then he’s serious. “They’re doing this for you,” he says quietly.
“You’re selling yourself short.”
He shakes his head. “It’s easier for the others - or just different,” he corrects himself. “I was,” he stops and corrects himself again, “I am the Prince’s principle guard. My responsibilities are his life, and -“
She stops him, reaching forward and dropping her hand over his. Her fingers curl against his palm. His gaze is heavy.
“Let me worry about that,” she says.
His surprise is quick. She watches it open against his face. His eyes widen. She bites the inside of her cheek, but doesn’t smile.
Then it’s simple: the door open and closes, and Minako and Mamoru both enter the coffee shop. Mamoru spots her first and they move to their table. Minako escapes with a shy greeting, dragging a chair to the head of the table and not meeting Kris’ gaze. Mamoru merely nods at him.
He sits with her too. He leans in and presses his mouth against her jaw. His fingers catch over her scarf, tugging it from her throat.
“Mamo-chan,” she murmurs.
He grins against her skin and she flushes.
“Sorry,” he says. “But it’s still my scarf.”
She smacks his arm.
She then turns to Kris and to Minako, who rests stiffly in her seat. Her shoulders are straight and Kris is studying his coffee.
“This needs to stop,” she says.
Minako meets her gaze. Her eyes are wide. Mamoru tenses next to her.
“The same goes for the others too,” she tells them, and Kris is the only one, really, how does not look surprise. “I am not asking you to be friends, I am asking you to co-exist and I think that, in itself, is fair enough.”
“Usa-chan,” Minako murmurs.
But Usagi shakes her head. Her hair drags over her eyes. She reaches for her tea then, cupping it between her palms.
“The first step is always like a hello,” she says lightly. Mamoru’s arm drops around her shoulder. It’s Kris that laughs though. “And really,” she adds. “I really don’t want to pout. That’s a lot of effort. So don’t make me pout.”
The three of them stare at her. She will laugh later. Instead, she turns and presses a kiss against Mamoru’s cheek. Her ring catches over his jacket and she’s sliding out of the booth, kissing Minako’s cheek too.
Her fingers brush her friend’s hair from her face. Then, she meets Kris’s gaze.
“I know you’ll take good care of them,” she says.
And maybe it’s just as much of a warning as it is acceptance, and the color of her voice is no different than her smile, just as soft, just as warm. She stands in front of the three of them and she still remains somewhat serious. It may be in her eyes, or just in the way that she holds herself, too tall, too sudden, and too soon.
It’s really never too soon, she thinks as she turns away.
They all watch her go. She hides a smile that way.