Fic: The Salt-Wound Routine, Part 3B: Capsized (V/L) R
Veronica Mars Fic
Title: The Salt-Wound Routine (3/3), Part 3: Capsized
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica
Word Count: 14,000+, 3B: 5,160
Rating: R (language)
Summary: Lilly’s death had fractured them apart, splintering them one from the other in different ways, but now that the truth was out, it was time. It was time to move on.
Spoilers/Warnings: Season one, picks up from 1x22
Notes: Part Three was too big for a single post, so I've split it up.
Part 1: Bridge / Part 2: Damage Control (A) / Part 2: Damage Control (B) / Part 3: Capsized (A)
Some time later, they were under way, running lights on. Veronica had been quiet as she had helped him prepare to cast off, and now she was curled up in the cockpit on the white leather-upholstered seat beside him.
“Where are we going?”
“Not far,” he replied, peering out into the darkness beyond the bow of the yacht. He kept an eye on the instruments and maintained a low speed to avoid any trouble. The wind had definitely picked up, and he was sure it was going to rain.
“Where’s ‘not far?’”
“A private dock, about ten minutes from here. I made some calls today,” he admitted as he glanced at her. “In case I needed somewhere else to hide out.”
“Wow,” she raised her eyebrows. “You planned ahead while nursing a hangover. I’m impressed.”
“You should be,” he grinned, feeling more relaxed as the boat skimmed through the water.
“It’s not much of a boat ride, though.”
He puffed his cheeks and expelled air in a rush. “I know. Sorry.”
“I’m kidding,” she said dryly. “I’m just wondering why.”
“Well, for one, it’s going to rain any second, and I don’t really want to be out in the dark during bad weather.”
“Okay.” He felt her eyeing him speculatively. “And?”
“And what?”
“You said, ‘for one…’”
“Right.” He hesitated. “And…I took a bunch of pills a little while ago.”
“What?”
“Don’t start,” he muttered.
“What did you take?” she asked in a dangerous tone.
He hesitated again, knowing what her reaction would be. “Pain killers…and muscle relaxants.”
“What are you-Fatally stupid? Wait, don’t answer that. Where’s the bottle?”
“In the galley. But don’t bother,” he said, as she made to go below. “Yeah, it says ‘do not operate heavy machinery.’ And yeah, this is oh, about two hundred grand of heavy machinery. That’s why we’re not going far. Look, we’re almost there.”
He pointed with his left hand through the windshield at the dock dead ahead. He could tell she was glowering at him from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t care. As short as the ride had been, he already felt the desperate urge to run away ebbing to a more tolerable level. And if not for those magic pills he wouldn’t be up for much of anything at this point. There wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t hurt. He had to hand it to Weevil-the man knew how to give a beating. And if their positions had been reversed-if he’d thought that Weevil had killed Lilly…well, Logan wasn’t sure if he would have been able to hold off killing the bastard.
“Come here,” he said, as he brought the yacht in close to a long, empty wooden dock. “I want you to hold her steady while I tie her up. Can you do that?”
“Yeah,” she replied, as she unfolded her small frame and came to stand next to him. “Just show me what to do.” He stood behind her for a moment as she took his place, and he demonstrated what he needed while he smelled her hair and smiled above her blonde head.
A little while later, he was crouched on the dock, making sure that the fenders were in place, and that the bow and stern lines were tied fast to the pilings. He bent forward and waved at Veronica through the windshield to signal that he was all done and that she could shut it down. In the glow of the yacht’s running lights, he sucked in a lungful of the heavy, salty air and was glad again that he had taken those pills, because otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to do even that comfortably otherwise.
He gazed at the surging ocean that surrounded their boat and at the tree-lined dark shore behind them at the far end of the dock, as the first drops of rain began to fall. Feeling lighter than he had in a while, Logan lifted his face, and let the wind gust against him. A moment later, his face was spattered with rain, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to stay like this for a little while, a tiny speck surrounded by nothing but the water and sky. Out here he could imagine that there was nothing but them in a watery world-no unwelcome intrusions, no obligations, no perilous world pushing in relentlessly from all sides.
Enjoying the fresh air, he sat down on the very end of the dock, facing out to sea with his legs dangling over the edge. He heard the thumps of Veronica climbing off the boat, but he didn’t turn. He waited until she stood beside him before he looked up at her.
“So…we should talk,” he began. “Do you want to tell me why you freaked out?” He reached up to take her hand. Her face inscrutable, she looked down at him for several seconds before she let her breath out in a rush and sat beside him. She gently pulled her hand away from his, and pressed her fingers against her temples, letting her hair fall around her face. He waited.
“You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to,” he went on awkwardly when she didn’t speak. “But if you want to talk...”
“It had a nightmare,” she said softly. “It was all mixed up. Somehow we were on the bridge, you and me-and you were angry with me. You-you jumped.” She paused, and wouldn’t look at him. “My mother was there, too, and she-” She shuddered. “She pushed me over the rail, too, and I woke up as I was falling.” Logan went to take her hand, but she waved him off, so he waited for her to continue.
“You know, she came back.” Veronica glanced at him quickly. “My mother came home last week.” Her shoulders slumped, and she looked down at her bandaged hands.
He let that sink in for a minute. He had nearly forgotten that Veronica had her own parental issues. And judging from her expression, the homecoming hadn’t been an entirely happy one. “When?”
“When I got home the other night, after your surprise birthday party.”
Fuck! Logan thought. Great timing…
“Hell of a party, huh? Dear old dad…he has quite the flair for the dramatic, don’t you think?”
She laughed foggily. “Funny, Weevil said the same thing about you after he found you on the bridge.” She paused, and looked like she was debating with herself. “Do you…” She took a deep breath: “Are you ready to tell me about that?”
He was quiet for a few seconds while he considered. “How about this? You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”
She gave him a sidelong look, her face and hair beaded with water. “Okay.”
Logan pulled his right knee up and balanced his elbow on it as he watched the foaming ocean throw spray up at them.
“When did you get here?” he asked suddenly. “I mean, when did you get to the boat?”
“What time is it now? Four? Must’ve been around midnight then. Oh!” Her voice changed as though she had just remembered something, so he glanced over at her. “Thank you for the flowers-they’re beautiful!” Placing a hand on his arm, she had turned, and her expression, in that instant, was finally free of the darkness he’d seen in it since she’d woken. She seemed genuinely touched and pleased.
He shrugged a little, but he couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, I wasn’t entirely sure you’d come back. Just my way of saying ‘thanks,’ if you did.”
“They were lilies, Logan.”
“Yeah.” He paused, then: “shit.”
“No, it’s okay.”
He looked at her in surprise. “It is?”
Veronica turned her gaze back out to sea, resting her chin on the crossed arms she’d draped over her up-drawn knees. “She’s always going to be with us. She’s always going to be-between-us. She’s our past. Your past, my past…it’s probably better if we just accept the elephant in the room and not try to hide it or suppress it or forget it or whatever. Besides,” she grinned a little, as she caught his eye. “Lilies are beautiful flowers. I happen to like them a lot.”
He sighed explosively and rubbed at his neck. “And sometimes they’re toxic.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “And sometimes they’re toxic,” she agreed. Then in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood, “Did you know that some kinds of lilies act like a laxative?”
“What?” He stared at her.
She laughed. “Yeah. Lilly and I looked up our names one day, and we found out that some lilies have a laxative effect if ingested.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” she giggled.
“And what about ‘Veronica?’”
“Does not have a laxative effect!”
“Are you sure about that?” he shot back. “After you wrecked Dick’s new board, I think he might disagree.”
They both laughed.
“Seriously…” he chuckled.
“Seriously, my name comes from either the Latin or the Hebrew, depending on who you ask, and can mean either true image or face or something like that. I just say it means truth.”
He stared at her. “Veronica, have you ever heard of an ‘aptonym?’”
“Yeah, my dad rags on me about it sometimes. He says that truth is like my superhero power.”
“I don’t know that he’s wrong.” He glanced at her sideways. “I guess I’d better tell you everything before Veronica Mars, Defender of Truth beats it out of me.”
She smiled smugly. “I think I like this. I have all this power now.”
He turned to face her, crossing his legs, and he met her eyes soberly. The rain had increased to a drizzle, but they both ignored it, as the mood shifted between them.
“I wasn’t trying to kill myself.” He stared at her defiantly as he heard the defensive hint in his voice.
She said nothing, but waited for him to continue.
Uneasy, he shrugged and turned away, focusing on the waves in the distance. “I was angry, Veronica. And hurt, and I felt…betrayed.” He sneaked a look at her. She was impassive as she continued to watch him.
“You had every right to be,” she said slowly, surprising him. “I would have felt the same way.”
“You did,” he said. “With everything that happened after Lilly died-isn’t that exactly what happened?”
She nodded slowly. “And I chose my dad over my friends.”
“Turns out your dad was right.”
“But this time, I wasn’t, Logan.”
“No,” he agreed, “you weren’t. And I was…I don’t know exactly why I went up to the bridge. I swiped a bottle of whiskey, and I just started driving. And somehow, that’s where I ended up. You might even call it ironic.”
“Or not,” she said gently. “You were in a lot of pain.”
“I didn’t want to die, Veronica!” he retorted. “I just didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care about anything. I didn’t care what happened to me. I wasn’t really thinking straight. It was like…” He rolled his eyes in frustration as he searched for the words: “It was like I was tempting fate.”
So there it was. He’d finally said it. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her.
“I am-I am so sorry, Logan.”
He heard the crack in her voice, but he didn’t trust himself to say anything.
Neither of them spoke for a while as they both watched the dark, rain-spattered waves churning below them.
“Don’t do it again,” she said abruptly, pleading into the silence. Surprised, he turned to meet her eyes, which were wet, not from rain.
“Do you hear me?” Her voice grew in strength. “Don’t ever do that again. You could have-you could have died, Logan.” Her unspoken words hung between them: and it would have been my fault.
“In my dream you fell…” Tears spilled over and mingled with rain on he cheeks. “Because of me. Logan, if something happened to you-” her voice broke: “I couldn’t stand it, if something happened to you.”
Astonished he watched as her face crumpled. “Veronica, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not! Look at you…” She gestured at his bruised face. “You call that fine?”
“Well, no, but I’m not dead.”
“No, but-” Her hands came up to cover her face as she took a long shuddery breath, and Logan reached over and took her wrists in his hands, gently pulling them away from her face.
“Veronica, I’m okay. Nothing happened.” He wouldn’t tell her, but he was incredibly touched by her concern.
She shook her head and looked away.
He leaned forward and kissed her temple, and lingered there with his lips pressed against her.
“I promise,” he said, drawing back slightly. “I promise I’ll never do that again.”
“Really?” she sniffled.
“Really.” He pushed the hair back from her face and studied her. She looked drawn and weary.
“So you must be happy that your mom is back,” Logan continued in hopes of lightening the mood. Veronica stiffened, however, and pulled away.
“What is it?” he asked, watching her in puzzlement.
She stared at him for a long moment. Biting her lip, she looked like she was making a decision.
“I’m going to tell you something,” she began with a tight voice. “No one knows all of it yet, not my dad-or Wallace-”
“Okay,” he said, ducking his head to peer at her more carefully. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
So he listened while she explained about how she had found her mother at the Sagebrush Cantina, about checking her into rehab. About exchanging her own future for one that contained a healthy and happy family. About how her mother had walked out on rehab and back into Veronica’s life, still a drunk, and let her down again.
Logan wasn’t surprised. Lianne Mars’ elbow problem was no secret in Neptune. Logan felt a deep pang of empathy for what she must have gone through. What angered him, though, was that Veronica had shouldered this burden by herself. No one should have to deal with all this alone. He listened as her voice broke, as she broke before his eyes beneath the weight of an intensely private anguish. God, this was such a far cry from the tough girl act she normally projected-now she was just an ordinary girl crumbling from under the disillusionment of a huge parental let-down.
Logan knew something about how that felt.
He heard her try to be cold about it, and pretend as though Lianne Mars’ failure was an inevitability that she could have predicted, but Logan saw the tremors flash across her face with the effort of maintaining that cynical exterior.
He watched her eyes flash as she choked out her story, fighting back further tears, and he could clearly hear an edge of anger intermingled with her anguish. He ached for her pain, because he could see how horribly disappointed she was that her mother hadn’t tried harder, hadn’t been better-which was exactly how he had felt about his parents for so many years. At least Veronica’s mother had tried and failed. Logan didn’t think either of his parents had ever really tried.
“I’m sorry,” he said very softly.
“Thanks,” she said, wiping the tears away.
“Veronica-” he stopped her, and she blinked up at him, her lips pressed together to mask their trembling. “Don’t-” he shook his head and tried again. “You don’t have to-you know-” He stroked the hair out of her eyes with his fingertips and pulled her close against him, wrapping both arms around her. “You don’t have to be so strong all the time.”
“There’s more,” she said warningly, “are you sure you want to hear all of this?” She pulled back slightly to look up at him. Logan relaxed his hold on her, and bowed his head to lean his forehead against hers.
“I’m listening.”
***
He did listen, his eyes upon her intently, while she wiped rain and tears off her face and told him the rest, beginning with Clarence Weidman and the threatening photographs. Logan’s expression grew shocked when she described the photos with the bright red gun sight marks that she had found in the safe deposit box. But she pressed on and told him the rest of it: about how those photos had driven her mother out of town, about how Kane Software’s Head of Security had bugged her and stalked her to find Lianne.
Finally, she told him about asking her mother to leave.
“Veronica, it’s not easy.”
“I know it’s not.”
She could feel the bottomless pit of despair open beneath her again as she relived it, but then the core of anger and hurt blossomed as she told him that when she woke up, her mother was gone.
“Just like that? She didn’t wait until morning?” He was incredulous.
“Yes. She’s gone, her luggage is gone, and she didn’t even wait to find out what had happened to me or to Dad. She never called Dad, or anything. She just left. There’s no note, nothing.”
“Veronica, I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too,” she said bitterly. “It’s like she doesn’t even care what happened to us.”
“I know,” he murmured, and he reached out to her and drew her close. She laid her head against his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her, and she took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, trying to let the anger and despair ease out of her with the expulsion of air. She pulled back to look up at him and pushed wet strands of hair out of her eyes.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said above the crash of waves around them.
He studied her silently, his rain-streaked face clear and his eyes alive and bright as they flickered over her. His thumb stroked her cheek, and she leaned into the hand that cradled her.
Everything was so fucked up, and there was very little that she felt sure about anymore. But for whatever reason, this felt right. Being with Logan in this moment, telling him everything, finally, and touching him-this felt like the only place to be.
She reached up and brought him down to her waiting lips. And shivered helplessly beneath the gentle onslaught of his warm mouth and his fingers in her hair, sliding down to stroke her throbbing pulse, gentle on her neck, and down over her shoulders, until she felt his hand against her ribcage, and she couldn’t stop shivering.
It was raining in earnest now, but Veronica didn’t care as he tugged her forward, and she found herself in his lap, thighs splayed around him like his open palm against the back of her head. She felt his fingers on bare skin now at her waist, burning into her as they stroked upwards, until she felt sure that there must be red-streaked marks as proof of his touch. Rain and saliva intermingled as their tongues slid together, and she tightened her arms around him. Their kisses were slow, a slow burn that warmed her from the inside out, leaving only a cool, wet shell for his fingers to trace.
“Logan,” she said thickly, as his lips left hers to move across the line of her jaw, down her throat.
“Mmmm?” He was clearly distracted.
“Let’s go inside.”
“What?” He was wrapped tight against her, his lips trailing downwards to the collar of her jacket that he was nudging aside to find more skin. One hand was under her blouse, up her back, sliding beneath her bra strap.
“Let’s go inside,” she repeated breathlessly, shocked by hard waves of longing. It had always been intense with Logan, but never like this. She didn’t know how or when it had shifted between one breath and the next, but suddenly she felt like she was clinging to a huge, bucking creature by only fingertips, and she knew she wanted to stay on, but she wasn’t quite sure how to manage it out here on a slippery wooden dock, amid crashing waves and a rising storm, slick with rain and desire.
His gaze was unfocussed as he came back up to her lips, and she nearly lost it again inside another breath-stealing kiss.
“Okay,” he said finally, voice low and husky, forehead tipped against hers. “C’mon.”
Before she could think twice, they were disentangling, and she staggered to her feet. They stared at each other for a dizzying moment before he seized her hand and pulled her in the direction of the waiting boat.
“Be very careful,” he warned her before they climbed aboard. It was rather treacherous now with all the smooth, wet surfaces underfoot and slippery handholds, as the boat heaved in the choppy water against its mooring lines, but fortunately, they managed it without any mishaps.
Shivering inside her cold, wet clothes, Veronica stumbled onto the covered aft deck with her hands in her hair, slicking extra moisture out, and dripping water all over the floor. She bent over and unlaced her sopping shoes, tugging them off. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Logan tying the cover down securely, and turning back to her. She straightened, and her heart beat very fast as he approached the two steps to stand beside her, his body at right angles to hers.
Not really thinking, she took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his, and looked up to meet his eyes. They glittered as he watched her carefully. She turned to face him, and with her other hand, she reached toward him, until she felt the wet fabric of his white button-down shirt beneath her fingers. She slipped her hand under and laid it against his bare skin.
“Veronica,” he breathed, his hand tightening around hers. He was beautiful, she thought as she looked at him, even with two black eyes and bruises and scrapes. The white shirt clung to his lean torso wetly, outlining his form but veiling all evidence of his injuries. She tugged her hand free and began unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom up, and he said nothing, although she could felt his breath quicken.
When she slipped the final button free at the top, he shivered and he covered her hand very lightly with her own before he bent his head to touch her forehead with his.
She could hear him swallow as the deck surged beneath their feet, and she didn’t want to wait anymore. She pulled the wet fabric apart so that the shirt lay open against him, and she looked at the massive bruising that covered his ribs and abdomen. Her throat tightened in sympathy, and she looked up at him quickly as he flinched from her gaze.
“Logan,” she whispered, trying to keep her balance on the rocking boat. “What’s wrong?” She laid her palms against his cool, wet skin and felt heat rising up to meet her hands. He shivered again, and shook his head wordlessly, but his eyes were suddenly hot and wet as his arms now came around her tightly. She laid her head against him and waited, matching her breath to the rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek.
“What are we doing?” he mumbled.
Veronica trembled, and her heart raced beneath her soaking wet clothes. A wave of shaky giddiness hit her as she leaned into him with the rise and fall of the deck underfoot, and she was suddenly overcome by a quiet fit of semi-hysterical giggles.
Without thinking, she blurted: “I don’t know, I don’t know…is this the part where we have hot make-up sex?”
Just like that, the mood shifted between them one hundred-eighty degrees. Just like that.
He blinked at her in surprise, and then laughed out loud. “Can’t. No condoms.”
She stopped giggling and pulled away to look up at him. “Seriously?”
Abruptly, he stopped laughing and stared down at her. “Yeah, seriously. Did you see me buy condoms yesterday?”
“Well, no, but I didn’t see you buy clothes and shoes for me either. Besides, you could have discreetly called home for them, like you obviously did for other necessities. What did you have them bring? Cigars? Whiskey? But you didn’t think to ask for condoms.”
“Hey, hey, hang on a second. What is this? What’s going on?” He was staring at her in complete bewilderment, yet despite that, his eyes danced wickedly.
Her eyes widened, and clapping a hand over her mouth, she shook her head as she felt the heat rise to her scalp. What the hell was she saying? What had possessed her?
He was starting to grin. He cocked his head at her.
“Did you just say what I thought you said?”
With her hand still over her mouth, she just shook her head up at him as though the repeated motion would erase her words.
He chuckled with an indecipherable expression. “Why Miss Veronica Mars,” he drawled with an exaggerated fake Southern accent. “I do declare! You have been holding out on me!” He tsked and shook his head. “Now should I take that as a proposition?”
She tried to pull loose from his tight-clasped arms and mockingly lecherous grin, as embarrassment coursed through her, but he didn’t allow her to escape so easily. She felt the tremors as he chuckled in amusement.
His arms were shifting, his hands now on her shoulders, and then they cupped her head between two palms as the merriment faded from his eyes, and he bent swiftly to capture her mouth in a restless, greedy kiss. Through the flush of embarrassment, she opened her mouth beneath his and felt the shiver that passed from him to her through his hands against her scalp, through the hitch of his tongue that moved against her.
All the confessional, fucked-up conversation of the last little while, not to mention the trauma and upheaval of the last few days, or hell, the revelations of the last week, had stirred up so much raw emotion that she had lost her usual composure. A tiny, vaguely rational part of her brain remarked that this was just bizarre, this whiplash-inducing shift of emotion and tension between them, and even as she kissed Logan back, her wanting mouth open beneath his, she had to agree. The rest of her brain was telling her to shut up and enjoy the ride-and see where it went before shooting off half-cocked again.
She closed her eyes and smiled into his mouth as his hands slowly trailed down the sides of throat and settled on her shoulders, where he pushed at the soaked, rain-heavy jacket until it slipped off her arms and thumped to the deck. His fingers found the skin of her waist again, beneath her blouse, and he let her come up for air.
She didn’t open her eyes, but she just stood there, swaying slightly within the frame of his hands on her waist, and let a smile spread across her face. Languorously, she licked her lips, tasting him salty-smoky-sweet like cinnamon and wicked temptation.
His hands were hot against her, and when they tightened, she finally opened her eyes to find him studying her with such an expression of affection and desire that the breath actually caught in her throat.
“What? What is it?” she asked, licking her lips again, this time in anticipation, and she leaned forward as though drawn by an outside force.
He cleared his throat. “Fuck, Veronica.” His voice shook every so slightly. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” she asked dreamily. Her entire body tingled, and her brain had just drifted off, leaving a marshmallow girl behind to melt all over the rocking boat deck. His fingers stroked her; one sly set of digits now tracing patterns up the bare skin of her back while the other was making its treacherous way up her ribcage. When she took a step backward, he came with her, until she gently bumped into the table, against which she gratefully leaned. Her legs trembled, and the effort of maintaining her balance and staying upright on the heaving boat suddenly seemed entirely beyond her.
“Don’t…lick…your…lips…” he said very slowly, tightly, and she felt the back of his hand sweep across the skin of her torso. Accidentally he brushed the underside of one breast, and she shuddered, until his lips briefly brushed against hers as a preamble to the light, teasing stroke of his tongue over her lips. Over and around, back and down. He licked at the corners of her mouth, flicking in lightning quick, and then burrowed there a little longer.
She could have killed him when he left her mouth and moved on to her cheek, depositing a kiss, and then dipping to her ear.
“Why not?” she managed, her voice rising with tension.
“That’s my job,” he said softly, his voice tantalizing her before he went to work there, his tongue finding and tracing the whorls of her ear in an utterly dizzying fashion. Her hands scrabbled at him, pulling him closer, until he lifted her up onto the table, his hands still under her blouse, so now her blouse rode up to just below her breasts, and she couldn’t help but laugh as he teasingly sucked her earlobe, and he didn’t move his hands from just beneath her armpits. Meeting her gaze head-on, challengingly, his thumbs daringly stroked against the sides of her breasts. She had automatically parted her bent knees as he’d lifted her, and now she enfolded his hips in the vee of her thighs, and pulled him in. The boat lurched, and he settled against her rather firmly and didn’t pull back, gaze still laser-locked on hers. There was no denying the hard proof of his rising excitement as her fingertips lightly danced over his bruised skin.
“So…” he said softly, angling his hands downward so his thumbs stroked the underside of her breasts very gently. She watched as he swallowed, and closed his eyes briefly. Veronica had her fingers tucked into the waist of his soaked jeans, just below his navel, and she began to tug at the button there, until it pulled free, and she pulled his zipper down quickly before she lost her nerve. His hands stilled upon her, and her throat contracted with tension and desire.
“Veronica,” she heard him say, his lips at her ear. “What-“
“I’m cold,” she said shakily, although she wasn’t, not anymore. “Let’s get out of these wet clothes.” Her pulse pounded in her ears.
“Okay.”
“Good.” Her fingers wandered restlessly up the sides of his ribcage and curved around the back and then down again.
“There are towels down in the cabin” His breath was hot on her neck as his lips left a string of kisses around her throat.
“Then what are we waiting for…”
Part 3C (NC-17)