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Text from Phaedra to Cian: can i ask you for a really big favor?
Of course. What do you need?
-C
it's raining and my roof is leaking and a lot of my books are getting wet and i need someplace inside and dry to bring them and lay them out to dry.
Oh no, my apartment is entirely open to you for that. Do you need me to come over to help you move them safely?
-C
maybe? i was going to put them inside a double-layered trash bag and take an uber to get them there safely, but if you have a better idea i'm all ears.
That is as good a plan as any. Good luck, I'll see you soon.
-C
It's a good 45 minutes before Cian gets another text that Phaedra's here, and then there's a wet Mekhet on his doorstep with a trashbag full of books. Very full.
"Phaedra." Cian is unBlushed, this evening, in his shirtsleeves and a pair of linen trousers, and he ushers the woman inside, staring outside at the torrential rain for a few moments before shutting the door.
The blinds on the window on the opposite side of the room are open, bathing the table and a few feet of floor in dim flickering light. The table below it has towels covering it, and Cian indicates she should set her books there.
"Do you want a towel yourself? You're drenched."
"Well, it's not like I'm going to catch a cold. Though you might not want me dripping all over your home, so a towel is probably a good idea." Phaedra's also unblushed--it seems better than the alternative at the moment, she'd probably be shivering and miserable if she were. What a corpse can endure is often a pain in the ass for a person. She begins to unpack the textbooks and novels and notebooks. Some of the latter category are visibly smeary.
"There are paper towels..." Cian gestures to the kitchen as he walks past toward the bathroom. A nearly full roll stands on end on the countertop. "I"ll get you a towel. Put a paper towel or two in between each of the wet pages, and stand the books upright to dry. It will keep the pages from sticking together."
"See. I knew you were the best person to reach out to." She begins the process carefully, treating the books delicately. "Not that I had a huge list, but still. Thank you."
"Of course." Cian's smile is as warm as it can be, on pale greyish lips against very dead skin. He returns from the bathroom with two folded towels, which he sets on the chair next to the table before staring to tear off paper towels for her to dry the books with. "It's no trouble at all, I promise you. How have you been, besides...wet?" He gestures to the window here, where rain drums against it, entirely obscuring the view.
She grabs one of the towels, putting it over her head and around her shoulders, looking for all the world like a little old Russian lady in a babushka.
"More wet. I mean, okay I guess, though."
"Okay, you guess?" Cian arches an eyebrow and carefully blots the front of a novel before eyeing Phaedra.
"What?" She blinks at him when eyed. "Sorry, some nights the usual level of confidence is something I gotta work up to. Give me a bit, I'll get there."
"You don't need that confident, it just sounds like a story. Or like you're trying to make the best of a bad situation. At the very least, something on your mind...." Cian shrugs and returns to the books. "You needn't tell me, if you'd rather not."
"I mean, there's always a lot on my mind." She shrugs. "Thought you knew that already. Things all over my mind everywhere always. I used to hate storms like this on the farm. I still do at home, but usually the rain's not heavy enough to make my roof leak this bad."
"Of course - I was offering a way for you to talk about the things on your mind, if you wanted. I'm always happy to listen." He's quiet for a moment, looking out at the rain.
"I love this kind of whether, when I can sit inside with a book. On the water it's...rather harrowing, most of the time."
"Oh, no, I can't even imagine trying to sail in this." She bristles visibly. "How do you deal with something like this when out there?"
"You do your damndest to get to cover before it hits," Cian says with a chuckle. "And failing that, put your best steerer at the helm, reef the sails for control, and prepare for a hell of a lot of stressful misery. Trying to sail for shore can get you caught between the storm and the shore, which will leave you no room to maneuver."
"Helm, I know. What does it mean to 'reef' the sails?" She turns to face him, bundling the towel around herself more closely.
"It means to tie them back and make them smaller. In high winds, too much sail can be dangerous, and make it very difficult to steer." Cian stands another book upright.
"Oh, okay, that makes sense. And you don't want to like. Blow all the way away off course either, I suppose." She nods her understanding.
"Exactly." Cian sighs. "It's not a pleasant experience. I'd have no issue with never sailing through a storm ever again. Sitting in here though, warm and dry...I quite enjoy it. Sometimes I'll even Blush and make myself some tea."
"Oh. That actually sounds really good. Like...I don't eat or drink food much at all, because I hate throwing it back up, but even holding onto a mug of tea, smelling it can be really nice." A moment's hesitation. "Would you maybe make me a cup of tea? Please?"
"I have a bit of an...unconventional setup, and the only tea I have is rose scented, but if you don't mind either of those, absolutely." He stands as he finishes speaking.
"I think I have two mugs..."
"Rose scented is fine. Maybe more than fine." She nods, continuing to tend to the books; by now, there's a small forest of them, all standing up carefully on the table.
The stove clicks on, and Cian hunts in one of the cabinets for a slightly sad looking pot to boil water in.
"I've considered buying a kettle, but I haven't got around to it..."
"If it's something you don't need often at all, I mean. That makes sense." She finishes up the last book and walks over toward the stove and Cian.
"If you start to come around for tea I might have to buy one." He gives her a soft smile. "Though sometimes I do think about keeping up appearances. I don't seem to have anyone else over, besides Kindred, though. Aha. Two mugs. Excellent." They're mismatched, and one has a small chip, but for holding tea they're more than acceptable.
"That sounded like the ghost of an invitation." She brushes her fingertips against his sleeve.
"...Would you like to be invited around for tea?" Cian's eyebrow arches again, his smile widening just a bit.
"Yes, I'd like to come over for tea. Even if I'm not always drinking it." She grins at him. "It would be really kind of you."
"I would very much enjoy your company. Whenever you wish, if both of us are free." Cian leans his arm into Phaedra's hand. "You know...if you Blush for long enough you don't have to worry about throwing things up. But enjoying the smell of a fresh cup of tea is fine with me."
Phaedra grins broadly. "Careful, you won't be able to get rid of me. I'll show up like a bad penny."
"I've never been one to put much stock in the luck of coinage. Though I suppose there's probably some sort of readings done with them, somehow?" He actually does sound interested in the answer, he's not just teasing.
"I Ching. Not a method I know a lot about, but coins can be used instead of yarrow stalks to generate a hexagram. But it's not mine to talk about, you know? Cultural stuff."
"Ah." Cian nods. "Well. I'd be happy for you to come over for tea. No bad pennies involved. I've already expressed that I enjoy your company, but it never hurts repeating."
The water starts to boil, and Cian pulls two teabags out of a drawer that seems to hold...basically everything he'd need in a kitchen. So almost nothing, aside from the box of tea, a sharp looking cooking knife, and some plastic silverware.
"I'll try to remember that. Watch out, you'll see me when the weather gets stormy and I don't want to be alone." She pulls her hand back and moves to sit down. "Is Cian who you think of yourself being, in your head, or do you still think of yourself with your original name?"
Ah, there's the good old normal Phaedra, with the nosy questions.
"That's certainly a question." Cian huffs as he carefully pours the water into the mugs. Spilling a little bit on the counter, because pouring from a pot to mug is fuckin' hard, especially if you don't do it often.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because I'm curious, same reason I ask most things. But also a little because I think about names sometimes, and what makes a name real. I picked the name Phaedra, you know."
"I picked the name Cian. And..." there's a pause, and Cian lets out an entirely unnecessary breath. "And the name before that, too. I still catch myself thinking in terms of one or the other, occasionally."
"Hm. Probably different reasons from me." She watches him, but doesn't push too hard with another question. Not yet.
"Reasons for picking names, most likely." He nods. "If someone calls out my old name somewhere, I still look up. The first name...not so much. I feel it, but I don't respond automatically anymore."
"I'm lucky--the name my parents gave me? It's not all that common. I rarely have to hear it most of the time." She pulls the towel down off her hair and begins finger-coming it gently to deal with the tangles.
"I'm very much not so lucky, both of my previous names are quite common. Do you want a brush?" He gestures to her hair.
"A comb, maybe. Taking a brush to it in this state would be a fool's errand. I mean, I could just leave it and wait until I wake up tomorrow night." Shrug. "Cian's not common at all. It stands out, it's memorable. A deliberate choice to imply your Irishness. Mm?"
"I might have a comb..." Cian frowns thoughtfully, and stands to return to the bathroom. "The Irish bit I'm not lying about," he calls back to her. "It's my mother's side. I have a great great grandfather named Cian, it wasn't too much of a stretch."
"And which of your forebears do the journals come from? The same side, or?" While he's away, she stakes a claim on the chipped mug, holding it with both hands.
"The same. Ah - hmm..." Cian looks mildly triumphant as he returns to the living room, but his hands are empty. "I was looking in the wrong spot - I've done a bit of antique collecting, and I have a very strong memory of acquiring a toiletries set. Not something I'd keep in the bathroom." And he's gone again, this time through the door to what is presumably his bedroom.
"The journals are a few more great grandfathers back from Cian senior."
"But on the Irish side. I still wonder if he's still around, if someday you'll accidentally find him somehow."
"You and me both. I...have considered looking into it further, but I have no idea where I'd even begin." Cian's voice is a little muffled, but he returns from his bedroom, carrying a wooden wide toothed comb. "There was a rumor in my family that he wrote journals more recent than the one I showed you, but I have no idea how much of that is true, or where they might have been lost. There are many questions." He offers the comb to Phaedra and takes his own mug of tea before gesturing for her to sit in the kitchen chair, which has the best view of the storm outside.
She accepts the comb, but doesn't use it immediately, setting it down on the table. She sits, watching the window before lifting the tea up to her face and inhaling slowly. "Something that broad...there are methods that could be used to scry such a thing, but they are...costly. The only one available to me so far, I haven't used since the Nereids. It left me with the song of the sea in my head when I did. Even when there isn't an eldritch god of the depths, it Fucks Me Up."
"I have no interest in fucking you up. I'd try more old fashioned routes first, tracking down documents and leaning on my contacts in the museums and research worlds. It would take a while, but if there is something to find, I'd find it eventually." There's a beat. "If I choose to dig into it at all. What...sort of song, may I ask?"
"The Nereid's song. The call of the sirens. The...the great powerful thing. It's awful, it was luring me out to the sea. It's why I'm a little scared to go out sailing on the open water. Because I know the deep-god, the master of the Nereids noticed me, when it brushed against the world where I was doing my ritual."
She holds onto the mug a little tighter.
"Oh." Cian's voice is quiet. Almost...reverent. "That's understandable. The call I feel to the sea is different, but...just as powerful, I think. Less dangerous, probably. I hope." He brushes his fingers against her sleeve. "I won't lie and tell you I could keep you safe from any of that."
"Thank you for not lying." She glances at his face quietly.
"I make an effort not to lie to you. Though I don't think I'd use that particular lie on anyone else, either. I don't know that I could protect you from the Nereids, or whatever eldritch Thing calls out to you." Cian meets her gaze, and holds it.
"I would try, though. My very best."
"That counts. The fact that you would try matters to me, a lot. Even if there's that voice in the back of my head that says I don't deserve that and it would be the worst thing in the world if someone else I care about died trying to protect me."
"You absolutely deserve it. And I'm also not going to tell you that it wouldn't be the most awful thing, for you. It sounds...terrifying, to be in that position. But you deserve to be here, standing on this earth, awake and alert like this."
Phaedra looks back at the window and doesn't respond to that aloud.
"I'd do my very best not to meet my Final Death, in that situation. I have no plans to end my time here any time soon." Cian's voice is quiet, and he brushes her sleeve again.
And she moves her arm, brushing her fingertips against his hand, before grabbing her mug again with both hands. "Watch it become a race--who gets to die for who first?"
"Christ..." Cian shakes his head with a chuckle. "I'd say we probably aren't the first pair of Kindred - or anyone else - to make that sort of agreement. I'd rather not die for you, it means we've gotten ourselves in much more danger than I have any interest in facing." A beat. "It doesn't mean I wouldn't, if I had to."
"Leave Christ out of it. I don't talk to him anymore." But she smiles slightly as she say that, making a joke of it.
"That is the Irish in me. My mother's favorite swear, I think..." He shakes his head again with a smile. "I was never one to talk to him either, though. We did church on the big holidays, but we weren't devout. I stopped going, when...well." He pauses. "I haven't talked about my family in a very long time." It sounds like a confession.
"...I can't tell if pushing would be helpful or if it would hurt you a lot, right now." Phaedra looks up at him.
"I'm not sure. It's bittersweet, we fell out of contact...sooner than I would have liked, I think. My father would have come around to me eventually, I chose his name. But with all this..." Cian trails off. "There's no way to explain it to them. So I never reached back out. And my sire kept me busy. I think...that's all I want to say about it, right now."
She purses her lips slightly. "I...think I understand now. I'm sorry about your parents, that's shitty."
"It's not much of an excuse, that it was a different time. It's funny, I think the gay thing was harder for him. He was okay with having a kid who wasn't into 'girly' sorts of shit, but all of it together was...too much. Like I said. He'd have figured it out eventually. And it doesn't really matter now, so. I try not to think about what could have been." He stares into his cooling cup of tea.
"It does matter now, because it's something that still makes you feel heavy in the pit of your stomach when you think about it." Her voice is soft.
"I'm hoping that time will make these feelings lighter. Because I believe the other option is to let them consume me, and I don't much like the sound of that." The corner of his mouth quirks up in a bitter smile.
She licks her lips. "Okay. I think...mh. I'm not in your head, I don't know what you're thinking or feeling or being, but. I think there's more than two options there. Like, I know it can be hard to see the rest, but. There's ways to learn to live with heavy feelings in the pit of your stomach. Without letting them eat you up completely. You know?"
"That sounds very unpleasant. I'm...still coming to terms with how grief - bereavement - is going to work in my life. Even after a decade and a half, I don't really have it figured out. I haven't experienced all that much of it, I was too busy...trying to get away. In that respect, I think you have more experience than me." Cian sets his cold cup of tea down on the table, and turns to carefully thumb through Phaedra's books, checking to see how dry they've gotten.
They still need time--the books, not the experience of grief.
"I don't want to share my experience with you too much. It fucking sucks."
"I'd imagine. I think...grief is something we're going to have to share. With each other, or with other Kindred. I don't see how our Requiem, long or short as it is, will be anything but full of it."
"Or you could put it in a box and never touch it and pretend it's not there. That's an option, too." A self-aimed little jab there.
Cian smirks. "How is that working out for you?"
"Great, thanks for asking." She smiles with all the teeth.
He can't help but laugh, and he brushes a hand against her shoulder. On someone else, he'd have probably left it there, but with her it's just a short bit of physical contact. Easy to get away from, respecting her boundaries.
"I'm glad. I'd hate to think there were times when it's almost overwhelming, so much sadness that you can't keep it in that box." His voice sobers a little. "I have no idea what that sort of thing must be like." He's clearly poking at his own self, now.
And Phaedra reaches up to touch his hand lightly. Not holding it. Not grabbing. Just...the briefest moment of skin-to-skin contact.
She gets a flicker of a smile in response. "I...told Finley the truth, a few nights ago. I don't know how much they trust me, anymore."
"Oh." She looks thoughtful. "That's got to be really hard for you, considering that's part of what you're scared of with all of the everything, huh?"
"Zhe - we...we share some similar traumas. And it would have been a chance for us to connect, more than just as the man who happened to follow a trail that led to zher freedom. I understand why they don't trust me - hell, I don't trust me, and they...I don't think they understand why I lied, and it makes me feel like...I didn't have enough of a reason to, in the first place."
"You were coming into Philly with incomplete information about how things are here, and you did what felt like appropriate caution to you. You acted in fear, that's not a lie, and fear's a squishy kind of reason to do anything, you know? I mean, acting on it all the time means you're putting up a lot of walls. Right? Cutting off options, closing doors, not taking chances. But given where you were coming from, it makes sense. It does."
"I think I hit all of those points, yes." Cian nods. "And zhe has forgiven me. The trust..." He leans back into the table a little, his shoulders slumping. "I suppose I only partially deserved it, anyway. I'm not some elder who's taken a shine to a scared and traumatized neonate, I'm just...another scared and traumatized neonate."
"But that kinda makes it more amazing, on some level. That you were the one who followed the trail that led to zher freedom, in your own words. You were scared, you're hurting, you're unsure of yourself. But you chose to help." She looks him right in the eyes. "That all counts for something."
"I - I only mentioned my suspicions to my family. Honestly," and Cian lets out a laugh here, "it was purely selfish. I wanted to see whether my words had any weight, as a newcomer. Though...I'd have followed it up. Even if no one else had. I'd planned to, I didn't think I'd have any help. But I did, because that's what kind of place this is. I just didn't trust it, that early on."
"Cian. Ciiiiii-an. Stop trying to discredit yourself, silly."
"No, I should leave the discrediting to you, shouldn't I?" He gives Phaedra and actual smile here, clearly teasing, and leans over to brush her shoulder again. A little more lingering this time, but only just.
This time, she brushes her cheek lightly against his arm. It's gentle, and quick and not lingering on her end.
Cian blinks in surprise at the contact, but his smile doesn't fade. "Are you planning on staying here with your books through the day, or are you going to trust me with them?"
The question seems to surprise her a little. "Would me staying the day be alright with you? I was planning to get out of your hair at some point, but."
"I don't mind at all, no. But...I don't trust the blinds in here, you'd have to be comfortable with sleeping in my bedroom. I have a lovely patch of dirt I'm happy to use in there, you're welcome to the bed." Cian sounds a little tentative, as he explains.
She watches Cian thoughtfully, weighing him with her eyes. "Dirt never sounded all that comfortable. I could curl up on the floor. I'm small, don't take much space, and it's not like we get cricks in our neck in daysleep."
"It's the first Discipline I learned. I've found it to be restorative in many ways, though I will admit I awake in need of a shower." He huffs in amusement here. "Whatever is most comfortable for you."
"First I learned--you won't be surprised to hear--was Auspex. I never learned any Obfuscate, and now I won't be able to without help. My bloodline aren't obfuscable."
"I know the very basics of the Discipline. I don't...know that either of us...would be comfortable with me tutoring you in that." Cian's voice is quiet. "I'd considered looking into Auspex - with Jasper around, it...well." He chuckles a little nervously. "He was skilled in it, and there would have been mutual benefit."
"I wasn't asking. Just saying." She shakes her head slightly. "I suppose without Jasper around, you, uh, aren't looking into Auspex much anymore?"
"I was tempted by more than just Auspex, with him. I would have regretted it immediately, and spent the next year regretting it, while being too drunk on him to do anything but continue." Cian shakes his head. "I know what it is to be bound, and I would rather not repeat the experience."
"Smart." She nods. "I've never been bound by anyone but my sire, and even that was only from my Embrace; she didn't renew it. She didn't feel a need to. I loved her without it."
"You're lucky. I spent nearly my entire time in Boston under my sire's thumb. It's not an experience worth repeating, tempting as it is to seek out new knowledge."
"I'll just have to work hard at developing my bloodline's talents. More Cruac at some point, become even more of a witch than I already am." She grins.
"Obfuscate has its uses, but it sounds like you're on a path you very much want to be on." Cian smiles back at her, and nods. "And I should not be too tempted to seek out knowledge that has such a high cost for me."
"Shouldn't, wouldn't, couldn't--knowledge is dangerous and tempting, and you're talking to me, someone who makes it her job to look for the juicy stuff. I'm not going to give you good practical advice, you know. I'm the shoulder devil here."
"Would you want the responsibility of a relationship like that?" It almost sounds like a rhetorical question, the way he's asked it, and he arches an eyebrow at her.
“Depends who the angel on the other shoulder is, maybe. And the person in the middle. And how much the angel is actually giving good Christian advice. And...”
Beat. “You weren’t really-really asking.”
"Ah - I was suggesting you wouldn't want the responsibility of teaching me Auspex. The responsibility of having me bound to you like that. Knowledge is dangerous and tempting, and I happen to thoroughly enjoy the fact that I've found someone who shares that hunger."
She looks looks quietly at Cian, stunned into silence by the idea.
"Is...that not what you were suggesting, when you asked whether I was still looking into learning the Discipline?" Cian looks confused, and a little horrified at his clearly incorrect presumption.
"I was...just curious if it was something you were going to pursue, I didn't...I wasn't...I mean."
An utterly unnecessary breath that's let out in a huff.
"I hadn't thought that was even a possibility you'd consider."
"I hadn't. Considered it." Cian shakes his head, like he's clearing it of something, and picks at his sleeve cuff. "Or - I discarded anything I considered. It's not a direction I'm willing to go in, no matter what secrets I might learn along the way."
"The responsibility of a relationship like that." She repeats his own words back at him quietly.
"With you. The thought occurred to me and I dismissed it. I was tempted with Jasper in part due to the nature of our relationship, which was...very different than the one you and I have. I don't know how adding that sort of tutoring into the mix would change things, and I'm not sure I want to." Cian's voice is quiet, tentative.
Phaedra leans in to sniff her tea again. Mostly cold, still softly rose-scented.
"What sort of relationship do you and I have, exactly?" She's not looking at him while asking this.
"Ah. We. Mmh." Oh look, the perfect excuse for Cian to pick his cup back up and stare into it. "I teach you history, and you keep me off balance. We enjoy each other's company, we make an excellent team where the cacophony is concerned." There's a beat, and he takes a useless breath. "I'd be devastated if you left without saying goodbye." You know, the way Jasper did.
"You do more than just teaching me history, Cian. So much more than that." She smiles, her hand brushing his sleeve lightly. And lingering.
"We teach each other about trust. And grief." Cian leans into Phaedra's hand. "I don't know that there's a neat, compact term for any of it. Our relationship." He's quiet for another moment. "I like it a lot, what we have. I like you a lot, and I live in fear of the day I break the massive amount of trust you have in me."
"The trust is mutual, though. As you've pointed out, people expect their minds not to be private space, in the presence of a Mekhet, and I've even admitted to being that familiar with Auspecting."
Gently, lightly, she takes a hold of his arm instead of merely resting her hand there.
Cian blinks in surprise, first looking down at her hand before looking at her face. He smiles, small but warm. "I do trust you. Very much. I've trusted you from the start - out of necessity, but...it's more than that, now. You're special in your own right, and you're important to me. I can count on one hand, the people that fall into that category."
Phaedra smiles as well. "It means a lot to hear you say that. Makes me feel warm in the depths of my unbeating heart."
"That was my aim. What...mm. What does this - our relationship - what does it mean for you? What sort do you think it is?" Cian seems to be a little unsure of what question he wants an answer to.
"I have no fucking clue." She laughs softly. "You're gay, though, right? So, uh. Clearly it's not...I mean..."
"I haven't spent very much time considering...anything else. I don't experience attraction all that frequently and I act on it even less frequently. I can fairly confidently say that...sexually, no. I'd never consider that on the table here regardless, but...just for the record. I...is..." he trails off. "I like spending time with you, in a way that is different than the way I enjoy the time I've spent with Finley. Or Jasper, or...well. It's different, good different, and I don't know how to quantify it, other than that."
"I mean, I don't sex, yeah, no. But." She pauses, licking her lips. It doesn't help. "This is special and words are hard and part of me assumes I just don't have the right words to say what I mean. But you don't either. Maybe we're making up as we go along, this thing that it is."
"Thats okay with me." Cian nods. "Attraction is...slippery. I've found that it defies definition in all forms. It makes relationships quite hard to pin down, for me"
"But this is a relationship of some sort, one that matters, one that counts. Which is kinda awesome."
"Yes. Absolutely. What it isn't, unfortunately, is something that is easy to explain to anyone else. I don't know if 'friends' quite fits, anymore."
She tilts her head to one side. "I dunno if it needs explained. I mean, I might say something to Finley at some point, because zhe and I do kissing things sometimes. But like. Note how broad and undefinite that explanation was."
"...Fair enough. I hope zhe's not...put off, by you and I being close? I certainly don't anticipate kissing things."
"You weren't anticipating any of this, Cian." She grins.
"Are you anticipating kissing me?" Cian arches an eyebrow.
It's probably a good thing he isn't Blushed, so he's got no blood to flush his cheeks.
"I've decided not to try to anticipate, here. Sometimes, not knowing the future's better. I mean, I'm not expecting it, but the future's a big thing."
"Do you...mm. Is it something you'd even want? I'll say right now that I'm not entirely sure of my own answer." He turns his cup of tea in his hands.
"I mean. I haven't even really held your hand properly, and you're asking about kissing?" This comes out with a bit of a teasing tone.
"You were the one who brought up kissing, I'm trying to follow your lead with regards to anything tactile." His tone is a little indignant, but he offers her a smile, teasing back.
"You're doing a good job of it, and of being really polite about it. You make me feel safe." She nods. "There's not a lot of people whose bedrooms I'd sleep in, you know."
"I know." He brushes her sleeve lightly. "I'd be willing to sleep in the ground out here, if I needed to. To help you feel safe. It wouldn't be that much more trouble. Your safety is important."
"No. I trust you. I really do. Hopefully by the time we wake up, the books will be all dried out."
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