Like a False Mirror, Part 3
Title: Like a False Mirror
Author: ladyblahblah
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Given what I've produced here, that's probably for the best.
Warnings: MIRRORVERSE. Violence, rough sex, implication of future torture, unauthorized plot.
Summary: The aftermath of a forced bonding is something Kirk hasn't truly considered. He'll have to do so now. Sequel to Though This Be Madness, Yet There is Method In't. A love story, of sorts.
Author's Note: Hi guys! Look, it's another part of the story that I totally haven't forgotten about! That's right, another installment of Kirk and Spock being all evil and porny and . . . wait a second . . . is that . . . is that the first tender growth of plot? No, no, no, that's unacceptable! SOMEONE GET THE SPRAY!
Part 1│Part 2
“I’m so glad you could make it to our little affair, Captain.”
The Ambassador’s smile is ripe with promises, and Kirk immediately hardens in response. He feels Spock’s irritation flare across their bond, but the Vulcan doesn’t move or even look up from his conversation with a group of delegates across the room. He can’t logically expect Kirk to remain unaffected tonight, after all; not in a room full of Deltans. Whose brilliant idea it was to allow them to hold the reception on Delta IV itself, Kirk has no idea, but he wonders how they’ve yet to be executed for sheer incompetence.
“I’d hardly call this a ‘little’ affair, Ambassador,” Kirk smiles, pushing his irritation to the back of his mind and glancing pointedly around the glittering ballroom. “I’m sure the Emperor will appreciate that you spared no expense.”
“We could do no less for the anniversary of his ascension,” the Ambassador responds with a gracious bow. “And please, there’s no need to stand on formality; I would be pleased if you were to call me Keil.”
“In that case, you’ll have to call me Jim.” Kirk’s smile grows wider as Keil’s eyes warm and sweep quickly over Kirk’s body. “Forgive me for being forward,” he says casually, letting his own glance travel fleetingly around the room again, “but I’m burdened with . . . call it an overdeveloped sense of curiosity. I’ve heard that Deltans are so much more sexually advanced that Humans would risk their own sanity by copulating with one.” He sips at his champagne without taking his eyes from his host. “Any truth to that old wives’ tale?”
“Ah, gossip,” Keil sighs. “It’s such a malicious thing, isn’t it?” He grins, his eyes sparkling wickedly. “Far better to base your opinion on firsthand information, don’t you think?”
Kirk can’t help but laugh at that. “Well, I’ve always been a strong believer in the scientific method, myself.”
Keil’s eyes linger on Kirk’s lips, and it’s a struggle not to come in his pants at the barrage of thoughts that simple look engenders. “I believe I have been unforgivably remiss in my duties as a host; I have yet to show you our gardens, and they’re widely regarded as some of the Empire’s finest. Would you care for a private tour, Jim?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Kirk agreed hotly. “Excuse me for a moment? I need to make sure my presence won’t be missed.”
“Of course,” Keil nods. “But please, make your excuses as quickly as possible.”
“Count on it,” Kirk murmurs, and offers a shallow bow before he strides quickly away.
“Bones.” His CMO is loitering near the buffet, looking profoundly uncomfortable in his dress uniform. “I need you to do something.”
McCoy eyes him in a calculating sort of way. “If you’re calling me Bones, I assume this is a personal favor, right?”
“It is,” Kirk says reasonably, “unless you say no. Then it’ll be an order from your Captain who’s pissed he had to make it an order, and is that something you’d really like to deal with tonight?”
“So touchy,” McCoy grumbles. “All right, then, what do you need?”
“For you to keep Spock busy for . . .” He glances back at where Keil is waiting. “Let’s call it twenty minutes.”
McCoy follows his gaze, and his eyes go comically wide before he takes a deep breath. “Permission to speak freely, Captain?”
Kirk regards him critically for a moment, then nods. “Go ahead.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” McCoy hisses. “As if screwing a Deltan weren’t dangerous enough, you want to try to do it behind Spock’s back? Are you trying to start an interplanetary incident?”
“No, I’m trying to avoid one, which is why I need you to keep my ridiculously possessive bondmate busy.” Kirk’s eyes harden. “I’ll can make it an order if I have to, Doctor, but if I do you should know that I’ll be considerably less inclined to make sure Spock doesn’t hold you partially responsible for what happens.”
McCoy pales, but he gives a jerky nod. “Understood, Captain.”
“Good. Twenty minutes, starting now.”
Keil smiles again as Kirk approaches, and Kirk smiles back even as his body aches. All he can think about is getting the other man naked and under him, over him, finding out firsthand exactly what a Deltan’s sexuality entails. He hardly notices the gardens they pass through, distracted by glimpses of other couples, bodies tangled together and skin flashing pale in the light from the double moons. How many others, he wonders? How many would end the night broken by what they’ve felt? Would they think it was worth it?
Would he?
That’s his last thought before Keil stops and turns, pulling Kirk into his arms with one swift, smooth tug. Their mouths meet, already open, and Kirk groans helplessly as the Deltan’s pheromones burst over him. He needs more; more skin, more heat, more of whatever the hell that is that Keil is doing with his tongue because god that’s good. His sense of time begins to fail him; he’s no longer measuring in minutes and seconds but in the pass of Keil’s hands over his skin, the press of his mouth against Kirk’s neck. Kirk is vaguely aware that he’s busy struggling his way past the elaborate folds of Keil’s clothing, and that his own trousers have been worked open by deft, slender hands.
Lost, swamped with need stronger than anything he’s ever felt before, Kirk uses his last whisper of will to throw open his mind and call to his bondmate.
The fury that roars immediately through his mind makes him groan and harden until he feels ready to burst. Spock’s rage and Keil’s touch are a heady mixture that only grows more overwhelming the closer the Vulcan gets. Kirk is astounded to realize that he can actually feel the distance between them shortening, like a tether being quickly reeled in. He pulls Keil closer and thrusts into his hand, his eyes focused over the Deltan’s shoulder.
Spock is moving so quickly that Kirk has hardly caught sight of him before Keil is being bodily torn from his arms and dangled above the ground by better than six feet of snarling, furious Vulcan. Kirk swiftly reaches out with his mind and pulls his bondmate’s consciousness around him like a blanket, forming a blissful layer of protection against the pheromones still saturating the air. The intimacy of it is shocking, and it makes Spock pause with his fingers locked threateningly around Keil’s neck. For good measure, Kirk delivers a sharp mental slap as he lets a cold smile creep over his face.
“Oh, my.” He purses his lips and considers the frantic, terrified Deltan. “Did I forget to mention that I was sort of married? How careless of me.” His mind rubs against Spock’s like a cat, encouraging patience even as the caress makes Kirk tremble. “You know, Vulcan law is a fascinating thing,” he muses, refastening his loosened clothing. “Did you know that infringing on their mating rights is actually a crime throughout the Empire?”
“I am an Ambassador,” Keil manages to gasp, which is frankly impressive considering the grip that Spock has on him. “You can not-”
“Actually,” Kirk says with an easy smile, “I was surprised to discover that this is one of the very few instances in which ambassadorial immunity doesn’t apply.” He shrugs. “Guess the Vulcans take this one pretty seriously. Seriously enough that Spock could actually kill you here and now, on your own planet, in your own house, and be completely within his legal rights. But,” he adds with an amused look at his bondmate, “fascinatingly enough, he doesn’t have to.”
Realization blooms suddenly in Spock’s mind, along with something very like reluctant admiration. “Indeed,” he says, lowering Keil a fraction, until his toes are able to scrape against the ground. “I do, in fact, have a variety of options open to me.”
“Possessive bastards, Vulcans,” Kirk laughs. “As it turns out, by making sexual advances towards his bondmate you’ve basically forfeited yourself to him for a length of time directly proportional to the time you spent infringing on his rights. Proportional,” he says pointedly, “but not equal. You’re going to be his guest for almost a full month, Ambassador, and frankly if he chooses to kill you before that time is up he’d be doing you a favor.”
“Why?” Keil demands desperately. “You set me up, why-”
“Because if you’re going to take part in a conspiracy against the Emperor, you can’t rely on ambassadorial privilege to keep you safe,” Kirk says coldly. “You’re going to die for this, Keil, there’s no way around that. I have you on my ship for twenty days; tell us what we want to know, and we might consent to kill you before that time is up.” He pulls out his communicator and flips it open. “Kirk to Enterprise. Three to beam up.”
A security team is already waiting in the transporter room when they materialize, though they maintain a respectful-and safe-distance when they see the grip that their First Officer still has on the Deltan ambassador’s shoulder. Kirk ignores all of them, striding over to the intercom set into the wall.
“Kirk to Bridge.”
“Aye, Captain!”
“Set a course for Earth and prepare to break orbit on my command.”
“Aye, Sir.”
He pulls his communicator back out and adjusts the setting to page Lieutenant Uhura. She answers a moment later, voice calm but wary. “Uhura here.”
“Lieutenant, this is the Captain. Make our excuses and get the rest of our people out of here. We have another pressing appointment we have to keep. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir. Understood.”
He turns back to the others and rakes his gaze over Spock’s body, taking in the sight of him standing tall and elegant in his dress uniform. “Security, take the prisoner to Sickbay,” he says without taking his eyes from his bondmate. “Chapel’s on duty; tell her to prep him, and make sure she knows to use the neural inhibitors.”
“Captain,” Spock starts, his hand tightening on Keil’s shoulder, but Kirk shakes his head sharply.
“Mr. Spock, with me.”
He turns without bothering to see if his orders are being obeyed and heads for his quarters. He can feel Spock following just behind him, feel the heat of his body and the press of his thoughts. It’s a struggle, but he manages to wait until his door slides shut behind them before he turns and yanks Spock’s mouth down to his, unable to stop a moan when his tongue sweeps over Spock’s lips.
“That was a foolish risk,” Spock growls, pushing Kirk until his back slams against the bulkhead. “You should have informed me of what you had planned.”
“You’d have gone ballistic,” Kirk counters, opening his jacket while Spock’s hands attack his trousers. “Willingly let someone else touch me, give me pleasure?” He shakes his head, and his breath stutters as Spock’s teeth sink hard into his shoulder. “Never would’ve gone for it.”
“You are correct. I would not have allowed it.”
“There you go, then.” Kirk’s head hits the wall hard and he swears hotly when Spock wraps one leather-clad fist around his leaking erection. “I knew you’d come for me,” he murmurs. “Knew you wouldn’t be willing to let anyone else have me.” He arches against the furnace-hot body pinning him in place. “Damn shame, really; he sure as hell knew what he was doing. I can still feel his hands on me.”
Spock’s growl is wordless this time. “You will not attempt such a foolhardy stunt again. You will not permit another to lay hands on you. You are mine.”
“Oh yeah?” Kirk leaves a trail of biting kisses over Spock’s jaw. “Prove it.”
It happens hard and fast and rough after that. Spock spins him around to take him there against the wall, pausing only long enough to slick himself with the lubricant Kirk has stashed in his pocket. He pushes inside with no more preparation than that, and Kirk’s pain mixes deliciously with the sense of Spock’s brutal satisfaction. Kirk is already on the edge when a hand spiders over his face; the first white-hot pulse of Spock’s mind in his obliterates everything else, and he snatches at the feeling with greedy mental fingers even as he comes hard against the bulkhead.
Kirk would be content to simply stand there for the rest of the night, propped up between the wall and Spock’s body. But all too soon Spock is pulling out of him, mind and body both, leaving Kirk shaking and empty and cursing his own weakness.
“You should know, despite whatever plans you may have,” Spock says a moment later, “that I have no intention of offering the Deltan an early death. You will not be able to do this again; this one will serve as an example to any who would dare to lay their hands on what is mine.”
“Yeah, well.” Kirk rests his head against the bulkhead for a moment before reaching down to pull his trousers back up. “I kind of figured that, actually.” He shrugs. “That sort of trick can only really work once, anyway.”
“Indeed.” Spock hesitates, fixing Kirk with a contemplative gaze. “I will bathe and change before I begin. You have questions for him, I believe. Would you care to accompany me in order to ask them?”
“Absolutely. I’m heading to the Bridge; I’ll meet you in Sickbay after we break orbit. Don’t do anything fun without me.”
He might be wrong, but he thinks that he feels a tiny whisper of amusement drift from Spock’s mind to his. “Understood, Captain.”
Kirk has to laugh then, clapping Spock on the shoulder as he heads to the ‘fresher. “You can go ahead and call me Jim.”
Part 4
Author: ladyblahblah
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Given what I've produced here, that's probably for the best.
Warnings: MIRRORVERSE. Violence, rough sex, implication of future torture, unauthorized plot.
Summary: The aftermath of a forced bonding is something Kirk hasn't truly considered. He'll have to do so now. Sequel to Though This Be Madness, Yet There is Method In't. A love story, of sorts.
Author's Note: Hi guys! Look, it's another part of the story that I totally haven't forgotten about! That's right, another installment of Kirk and Spock being all evil and porny and . . . wait a second . . . is that . . . is that the first tender growth of plot? No, no, no, that's unacceptable! SOMEONE GET THE SPRAY!
Part 1│Part 2
“I’m so glad you could make it to our little affair, Captain.”
The Ambassador’s smile is ripe with promises, and Kirk immediately hardens in response. He feels Spock’s irritation flare across their bond, but the Vulcan doesn’t move or even look up from his conversation with a group of delegates across the room. He can’t logically expect Kirk to remain unaffected tonight, after all; not in a room full of Deltans. Whose brilliant idea it was to allow them to hold the reception on Delta IV itself, Kirk has no idea, but he wonders how they’ve yet to be executed for sheer incompetence.
“I’d hardly call this a ‘little’ affair, Ambassador,” Kirk smiles, pushing his irritation to the back of his mind and glancing pointedly around the glittering ballroom. “I’m sure the Emperor will appreciate that you spared no expense.”
“We could do no less for the anniversary of his ascension,” the Ambassador responds with a gracious bow. “And please, there’s no need to stand on formality; I would be pleased if you were to call me Keil.”
“In that case, you’ll have to call me Jim.” Kirk’s smile grows wider as Keil’s eyes warm and sweep quickly over Kirk’s body. “Forgive me for being forward,” he says casually, letting his own glance travel fleetingly around the room again, “but I’m burdened with . . . call it an overdeveloped sense of curiosity. I’ve heard that Deltans are so much more sexually advanced that Humans would risk their own sanity by copulating with one.” He sips at his champagne without taking his eyes from his host. “Any truth to that old wives’ tale?”
“Ah, gossip,” Keil sighs. “It’s such a malicious thing, isn’t it?” He grins, his eyes sparkling wickedly. “Far better to base your opinion on firsthand information, don’t you think?”
Kirk can’t help but laugh at that. “Well, I’ve always been a strong believer in the scientific method, myself.”
Keil’s eyes linger on Kirk’s lips, and it’s a struggle not to come in his pants at the barrage of thoughts that simple look engenders. “I believe I have been unforgivably remiss in my duties as a host; I have yet to show you our gardens, and they’re widely regarded as some of the Empire’s finest. Would you care for a private tour, Jim?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Kirk agreed hotly. “Excuse me for a moment? I need to make sure my presence won’t be missed.”
“Of course,” Keil nods. “But please, make your excuses as quickly as possible.”
“Count on it,” Kirk murmurs, and offers a shallow bow before he strides quickly away.
“Bones.” His CMO is loitering near the buffet, looking profoundly uncomfortable in his dress uniform. “I need you to do something.”
McCoy eyes him in a calculating sort of way. “If you’re calling me Bones, I assume this is a personal favor, right?”
“It is,” Kirk says reasonably, “unless you say no. Then it’ll be an order from your Captain who’s pissed he had to make it an order, and is that something you’d really like to deal with tonight?”
“So touchy,” McCoy grumbles. “All right, then, what do you need?”
“For you to keep Spock busy for . . .” He glances back at where Keil is waiting. “Let’s call it twenty minutes.”
McCoy follows his gaze, and his eyes go comically wide before he takes a deep breath. “Permission to speak freely, Captain?”
Kirk regards him critically for a moment, then nods. “Go ahead.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” McCoy hisses. “As if screwing a Deltan weren’t dangerous enough, you want to try to do it behind Spock’s back? Are you trying to start an interplanetary incident?”
“No, I’m trying to avoid one, which is why I need you to keep my ridiculously possessive bondmate busy.” Kirk’s eyes harden. “I’ll can make it an order if I have to, Doctor, but if I do you should know that I’ll be considerably less inclined to make sure Spock doesn’t hold you partially responsible for what happens.”
McCoy pales, but he gives a jerky nod. “Understood, Captain.”
“Good. Twenty minutes, starting now.”
Keil smiles again as Kirk approaches, and Kirk smiles back even as his body aches. All he can think about is getting the other man naked and under him, over him, finding out firsthand exactly what a Deltan’s sexuality entails. He hardly notices the gardens they pass through, distracted by glimpses of other couples, bodies tangled together and skin flashing pale in the light from the double moons. How many others, he wonders? How many would end the night broken by what they’ve felt? Would they think it was worth it?
Would he?
That’s his last thought before Keil stops and turns, pulling Kirk into his arms with one swift, smooth tug. Their mouths meet, already open, and Kirk groans helplessly as the Deltan’s pheromones burst over him. He needs more; more skin, more heat, more of whatever the hell that is that Keil is doing with his tongue because god that’s good. His sense of time begins to fail him; he’s no longer measuring in minutes and seconds but in the pass of Keil’s hands over his skin, the press of his mouth against Kirk’s neck. Kirk is vaguely aware that he’s busy struggling his way past the elaborate folds of Keil’s clothing, and that his own trousers have been worked open by deft, slender hands.
Lost, swamped with need stronger than anything he’s ever felt before, Kirk uses his last whisper of will to throw open his mind and call to his bondmate.
The fury that roars immediately through his mind makes him groan and harden until he feels ready to burst. Spock’s rage and Keil’s touch are a heady mixture that only grows more overwhelming the closer the Vulcan gets. Kirk is astounded to realize that he can actually feel the distance between them shortening, like a tether being quickly reeled in. He pulls Keil closer and thrusts into his hand, his eyes focused over the Deltan’s shoulder.
Spock is moving so quickly that Kirk has hardly caught sight of him before Keil is being bodily torn from his arms and dangled above the ground by better than six feet of snarling, furious Vulcan. Kirk swiftly reaches out with his mind and pulls his bondmate’s consciousness around him like a blanket, forming a blissful layer of protection against the pheromones still saturating the air. The intimacy of it is shocking, and it makes Spock pause with his fingers locked threateningly around Keil’s neck. For good measure, Kirk delivers a sharp mental slap as he lets a cold smile creep over his face.
“Oh, my.” He purses his lips and considers the frantic, terrified Deltan. “Did I forget to mention that I was sort of married? How careless of me.” His mind rubs against Spock’s like a cat, encouraging patience even as the caress makes Kirk tremble. “You know, Vulcan law is a fascinating thing,” he muses, refastening his loosened clothing. “Did you know that infringing on their mating rights is actually a crime throughout the Empire?”
“I am an Ambassador,” Keil manages to gasp, which is frankly impressive considering the grip that Spock has on him. “You can not-”
“Actually,” Kirk says with an easy smile, “I was surprised to discover that this is one of the very few instances in which ambassadorial immunity doesn’t apply.” He shrugs. “Guess the Vulcans take this one pretty seriously. Seriously enough that Spock could actually kill you here and now, on your own planet, in your own house, and be completely within his legal rights. But,” he adds with an amused look at his bondmate, “fascinatingly enough, he doesn’t have to.”
Realization blooms suddenly in Spock’s mind, along with something very like reluctant admiration. “Indeed,” he says, lowering Keil a fraction, until his toes are able to scrape against the ground. “I do, in fact, have a variety of options open to me.”
“Possessive bastards, Vulcans,” Kirk laughs. “As it turns out, by making sexual advances towards his bondmate you’ve basically forfeited yourself to him for a length of time directly proportional to the time you spent infringing on his rights. Proportional,” he says pointedly, “but not equal. You’re going to be his guest for almost a full month, Ambassador, and frankly if he chooses to kill you before that time is up he’d be doing you a favor.”
“Why?” Keil demands desperately. “You set me up, why-”
“Because if you’re going to take part in a conspiracy against the Emperor, you can’t rely on ambassadorial privilege to keep you safe,” Kirk says coldly. “You’re going to die for this, Keil, there’s no way around that. I have you on my ship for twenty days; tell us what we want to know, and we might consent to kill you before that time is up.” He pulls out his communicator and flips it open. “Kirk to Enterprise. Three to beam up.”
A security team is already waiting in the transporter room when they materialize, though they maintain a respectful-and safe-distance when they see the grip that their First Officer still has on the Deltan ambassador’s shoulder. Kirk ignores all of them, striding over to the intercom set into the wall.
“Kirk to Bridge.”
“Aye, Captain!”
“Set a course for Earth and prepare to break orbit on my command.”
“Aye, Sir.”
He pulls his communicator back out and adjusts the setting to page Lieutenant Uhura. She answers a moment later, voice calm but wary. “Uhura here.”
“Lieutenant, this is the Captain. Make our excuses and get the rest of our people out of here. We have another pressing appointment we have to keep. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir. Understood.”
He turns back to the others and rakes his gaze over Spock’s body, taking in the sight of him standing tall and elegant in his dress uniform. “Security, take the prisoner to Sickbay,” he says without taking his eyes from his bondmate. “Chapel’s on duty; tell her to prep him, and make sure she knows to use the neural inhibitors.”
“Captain,” Spock starts, his hand tightening on Keil’s shoulder, but Kirk shakes his head sharply.
“Mr. Spock, with me.”
He turns without bothering to see if his orders are being obeyed and heads for his quarters. He can feel Spock following just behind him, feel the heat of his body and the press of his thoughts. It’s a struggle, but he manages to wait until his door slides shut behind them before he turns and yanks Spock’s mouth down to his, unable to stop a moan when his tongue sweeps over Spock’s lips.
“That was a foolish risk,” Spock growls, pushing Kirk until his back slams against the bulkhead. “You should have informed me of what you had planned.”
“You’d have gone ballistic,” Kirk counters, opening his jacket while Spock’s hands attack his trousers. “Willingly let someone else touch me, give me pleasure?” He shakes his head, and his breath stutters as Spock’s teeth sink hard into his shoulder. “Never would’ve gone for it.”
“You are correct. I would not have allowed it.”
“There you go, then.” Kirk’s head hits the wall hard and he swears hotly when Spock wraps one leather-clad fist around his leaking erection. “I knew you’d come for me,” he murmurs. “Knew you wouldn’t be willing to let anyone else have me.” He arches against the furnace-hot body pinning him in place. “Damn shame, really; he sure as hell knew what he was doing. I can still feel his hands on me.”
Spock’s growl is wordless this time. “You will not attempt such a foolhardy stunt again. You will not permit another to lay hands on you. You are mine.”
“Oh yeah?” Kirk leaves a trail of biting kisses over Spock’s jaw. “Prove it.”
It happens hard and fast and rough after that. Spock spins him around to take him there against the wall, pausing only long enough to slick himself with the lubricant Kirk has stashed in his pocket. He pushes inside with no more preparation than that, and Kirk’s pain mixes deliciously with the sense of Spock’s brutal satisfaction. Kirk is already on the edge when a hand spiders over his face; the first white-hot pulse of Spock’s mind in his obliterates everything else, and he snatches at the feeling with greedy mental fingers even as he comes hard against the bulkhead.
Kirk would be content to simply stand there for the rest of the night, propped up between the wall and Spock’s body. But all too soon Spock is pulling out of him, mind and body both, leaving Kirk shaking and empty and cursing his own weakness.
“You should know, despite whatever plans you may have,” Spock says a moment later, “that I have no intention of offering the Deltan an early death. You will not be able to do this again; this one will serve as an example to any who would dare to lay their hands on what is mine.”
“Yeah, well.” Kirk rests his head against the bulkhead for a moment before reaching down to pull his trousers back up. “I kind of figured that, actually.” He shrugs. “That sort of trick can only really work once, anyway.”
“Indeed.” Spock hesitates, fixing Kirk with a contemplative gaze. “I will bathe and change before I begin. You have questions for him, I believe. Would you care to accompany me in order to ask them?”
“Absolutely. I’m heading to the Bridge; I’ll meet you in Sickbay after we break orbit. Don’t do anything fun without me.”
He might be wrong, but he thinks that he feels a tiny whisper of amusement drift from Spock’s mind to his. “Understood, Captain.”
Kirk has to laugh then, clapping Spock on the shoulder as he heads to the ‘fresher. “You can go ahead and call me Jim.”
Part 4