The footsteps were not like his own. They did not come privately; collected...they were not dangerous like his own steady beat. They emanated with weight and coldness, almost rebellious despise. Each one hit the ground hard, deliberate, thudding for attention. There was no precision, only the loudness of hefty crunching as each foot slapped the floor.

He turned slightly, saw the colours change. The dark graveyard looked odd when challenged by his brother's presence. That red trench-coat slick as it slipped over his defined shoulders, pale pectorals gleaming through the blackness.

"Well, isn't this just a coincidence?" nineteen year old Dante said, his voice heavy with the sarcasm that Vergil hated. "Running into you like this, Big Bro."

Vergil, silent and still, did not turn. He did not blink or breath, only stayed in place. He felt the predatory Dante circle him, longing for a fight, but no alarm went off in his head. Instinct did not taunt him, and so impulse was not needed. Time stilled in his mind, moving as one with his brother's...through every step a memory, through every shake a thought. For one second, they were one. As twins should be, as they once had been. Dante's smirk was Vergil's, their expressions mirrored.

As best he could, Vergil broke the connection, snapping the sadistic yet brotherly bond.

"Fitting we meet in a graveyard...convenient too, since you won't be leaving." His voice poisonous, and so masochistic that it even disturbed his own ears.

Had he always hated him so?

Had he not loved his brother at some point?

Is there not a fine line between love and despise?

He supposed not, and put it aside. Now was time for more; a blood-ridden reunion. Vergil sighed impatiently, tossing his moonlight hair as he lifted his head to meet his twin's eye.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm afraid I'm fresh out of witty rejoinders."

Smiling, Dante halted, and removed Rebellion from his back to lay on his shoulder.

"You never did have much of a sense of humour..." he quirked a silver brow, satisfied with the scowl Vergil threw at him.

Such an arrogant bastard.

Dante sighed, continuing with his little charade. 'Of course', Vergil thought, 'his only pleasure in life is to torment those he feels are weaker. He mistakes me then...'

"Been a long time, hardly recognized you." Dante continued, eyelids fluttering up, obviously enjoying to bathe in such shallow jests. "Wish I could say the years have been kind. Pretty odd crowd you run with these days. Demons and cadavers? Surly you can do better."

Finally satisfied, Vergil laughed. It was mirthless and dry, and to his great pleasure, so very cold. Every ring of sound that rolled from his mouth chilled the air, freezing every inch of silence. This was how he felt about his brother all the time, so rightfully, he should know it. Why be kind when he could be cold? No one had ever done well for him, no one had ever put a foot forward...

...only his mother.

And she was long dead.

He squeezed the handle of Yamato tightly, the electricity blazing underneath his fingers.

"It has been a long time, brother. There's a lot about me you couldn't understand."

That seemed to hit a nerve.

"Just because I don't care doesn't mean I don't understand."

The red-clad twin then shook himself, and span Rebellion like a majorette stick.

"You came by recently though, right? That looked like your handiwork in the alley, or some demon you summoned. Sorry I missed you..."

Thoughtful and honest, Vergil replied; "Yes...I'm sorry too."

"Not as sorry as you're gonna be..." the younger growled. And suddenly the guns were out, ready to fire. Yamato followed, faithfully at Vergil's side.

Dante eyed the beautiful Katana, and Vergil did not miss the hunger that resided in his expression.

"Yamato, eh? Suits you..." and then, in an instant quicker than light, Dante was more serious than ever, face contorted in stone.

"Don't do this, Verge."

In its own way, these words replaced the bullets that Dante's barrels were yet to release. They were sharp, emotional, painful, and disgraceful. It was a low hit, below the belt, and Vergil was never going back to that defeated place of regret, depravity, and loathing.

Never!

He would not let Dante condemn him so. Rage lined his cheeks, eyes bitter and vivid with vile fire.

"If you're trying to impress me with your pathetic emotions, Dante...try harder." It was the first time for him to even utter his name, and it stabbed at his throat viciously.

Disgusted, Vergil's upper lip trembled to a hiss, eyeing his shameful brother.

Actually yes...

He did hate him.

More than anyone.

More than anything.

How he had stolen everything.

"Firearms and Rebellion..." he taunted, the light in Dante's eyes flickering feebly "...how like you Dante." He shook his head, the temper surging, boiling, killing his mind and battering it into broken dreams, boasting the blunt realities that made him what he was. What he didn't really want to be.

"Vergil...this is insane."

"What is sanity?"

"Verge..."

"You know nothing!"

"Vergil!"

"Be silent!"

Gently his eyes opened, and resorted to the pale sight of his palm resting against his fore. Most people would be disturbed by such a nightmare...a bleak graveyard, carpeted with demon corpses and dismembered flesh; not to mention a brother that was better left forgotten.

But Vergil did not flinch. He only silently awoke, realising that he had never put his body to bed. His other hand was wrapped tight around Yamato's handle, the blade still against his leg. He sat in a chair, arm lent on the wooden table in front of him, supporting his drowsy head. And his coat was there behind him, to act as his pillow he supposed.

However, although he was now in reality, the dream did not flee. Almost like a cinema movie, rolling in the back of his mind, reeling him into its disdainful scenes.

His face creased itself with confusion. Slowly, he pulled himself up, feet very numb.

Why that dream? Had that event ever occurred? He couldn't recall...

He remembered hating Dante then. More than anything, but that was likely. After all, his feelings had not changed...Dante would not last much longer. No matter what he had said to Lady. He kept no promises to anyone, only himself. He saw no reason in honesty, only self-inflicted. He answered to no one...

His lip twitched, eyelids moving down as he tugged the coat to him, wrapping it around his shoulders. Automatically he moved towards the door, the sky outside the dark window still bathed by dim moonlight.

He wondered where she had ended up staying. Probably in the attic, it's the kind of thing she'd do...as far from him as possible.

She didn't like him. But that was in no way a surprise, she may not understand it, but Vergil's intuition had told him that she did not like anyone.

So maybe he could be a first? Ha...that made even Vergil want to smile.

With unrelenting poise he began to descend the ancient, engraved staircase, taking in all his surroundings. He was quite fond of this house...there was something about it that appealed to him. The mute silence that was never disturbed, aside from his quiet footsteps. The vicissitudes that held onto that rare, warm darkness, so rare and touching. And the many pieces of art and literature were also rather fascinating. He turned his head up to the wall as he moved, eyeing the old paintings and poetry.

Such good taste. He doubted it was Arkham who had put such an effort into the house...perhaps an ancestor?

Or maybe it had been the woman. The mother...he didn't know her name. He merely guessed because mother's seemed to have that kind of spark, like Eva had.

Eva's desperation had been very admirable. With every day that passed after Sparda's departure, it had weakened her, killed her from the inside. But she had never given up hope for her sons. Not once...she had tried her hardest, and had not understood why Vergil had so deliberately attempted to pass. Not because he didn't love her, but because her pain damaged him in more ways than she had known. It was his obligation was it not? He was the eldest, the more advanced at the time. He wanted to care for her, wanted to relieve her. She deserved more than what she had received, and for that, Vergil had not forgiven his father.

All he wanted from his father was the same power, that divine legacy. He needed nothing else. He didn't need to be like him...didn't need to see from his view.

He wasn't like Dante, who he thought had more of their father in him than himself. All he needed was feeling, a relinquish...to wash away all of his numbness. A fire that could melt the most powerful of ice; that's what he needed.

Perhaps, he considered, he had finally found it.

Having reached the bottom floor of the house, Vergil approached the front door and stepped through without an effort; he would wait for Lady. He knew once she had awoken, she would not stay in the house longer than necessary.

And he could do with the last few hours that the night had to offer.

But then as he moved his view towards the Jaguar, he realised that he wouldn't have to wait.

There she was, standing as though expecting him, almost like she had timed it. She had her legs crossed in stance; her small back leant on the car, scarred fingers clenched, but arms supporting her body against the vehicle.

He also noticed that she had found her glasses. They blinded his view of her eyes; what she was thinking was now intangible.

Frustrated, he clenched his jaw.

"I guess it's true what they say then." She said, voice smug as her lips moved into a critical mould. "The wicked don't rest."

"I could say the same about you..." Vergil muttered, his rope of patience tightening. "I told you to sleep."

"Like I said." She shifted, daringly moving forward, an inch from him. Looking down at her now he sneered, able to see her eyes between the gap of the shades and her head.

"Your word is not law."

Swiftly she turned towards the car, walking over to the passenger's side. Vergil took a step closer, but then her voice held him.

"Where are we going anyway? You didn't tell me."

Feeling an urge to bend his lips up, Vergil answered; "A place of the past."

"Hey! Look, I didn't ask for a damn essay! I want what I asked for, not five pages of pure bullshit! 'Order this, and order that'...get your facts right!"

"What the hell am I suppost to do Dante? You asked me for info and I gave it, not much more I can do!"

By now, Dante's temper had risen to a very high farenheight. He clenched his fists and sneered at his 'supposed' supplier of critical information, warming to the idea of brandishing Ivory to the guy's head and really blasting him to hell.

Instead, he tried a different approach. With a painted smile, he held a hand out, and Trish came from behind him, catching on immediately. Slyly she swaggered to the desk of the Fortuna inn, the handy-man behind it suddenly looking extremely tense and far less cocky.

"Shit..." he muttered, greasy dark hair falling over his brow.

"Ah, so you remember me?" Trish smirked, winking with an implication in her eye. Her black-painted fingernails flashed as she quickly pulled out one of her pistols, the smile never faltering. Elegantly, her long finger flicked the weapon about playfully, Dante crossing his arms to enjoy the show as the handy-man's back stiffened.

"Well that's good...so we don't have to repeat the first date, and we can move straight on to second base?" she continued, seating herself on his old desk as the man started to breath with unease. His sight flickered from one devil hunter to the other, before his voice cracked, trying to make small-talk.

"I...I thought you left town?" his sound quivered, vocals betraying the bravery that he was trying to pull off. Grin widening, Trish quickly looked to Dante, who seemed to be widely enjoying himself.

"Waw...I really made an impression the last time I visited you, didn't I?" she sighed, the deep breath making the flesh within her corset move slightly. She didn't miss the perverted look the man used for a moment.

"In fairness, it's kinda hard to forget a chick who fries your lungs with lightning..." the man muttered darkly, frowning more so when Trish gave a quiet chuckle.

"I told you I was sorry, but you really should have done your job without running off to tell your buddies. We do what we can to survive, and unless you've betrayed us this time, I won't touch you. So tell us, what do you know? Everyone is aware that the order members used to come here to discuss private stuff...and, no doubt, let a few secrets slip after knocking back a couple of beers. What you got?"

"I aint got shit-!"

Quickly her gun went to his mouth, making the man jump dramatically.

"Be honest."

For a moment, his fear caught up with him and he lowly squealed, pupils shaking. Waiting for him to regain composure, Trish did not cock the gun. He breathed in, muttered something about regretting this later, and finally did as he was told.

"Something about the last Order official found dead in his own house...Wife found him there, apparently she's had a stroke, ended up in the nut house-."

"Back to the official..."

"Sorry. They say he was the last guy who was left after..." he nodded towards Dante "...took the Order out, the only guy left who knew the secrets so to speak."

Finally deciding to intervene, Dante stepped fourth.

"Know any secrets?"

"Only one..." he suddenly smiled, defiantly smug.

Looking at one another and raising brows, both Dante and Trish turned to the man with dark curiosity taunting them.

"Wassat?" Dante asked

"Well, you see Dante, someone apparently saw the guy who killed the official, walking out of his house after committing the murder...they say it was you."

This seemed to silence Dante. He suddenly looked very pale, like death had gently touched him on the cheek, so quietly he had not seen it coming.

He knew who it was, who it must have been. There was no other, and he remembered the curse of being a twin all too well...

...being mistaken for your other half. He had not missed the feeling of non-existent individuality whatsoever. But now that it had returned, he felt quite nauseas and somehow angry.

Why the hell can't you just let it go, Verge? He kept thinking over and over, the thought quite literally making him ill. It was like sitting in one of those waltzer rides at a funfair, and feeling that burger you ate making its way back up your oesophagus as the cart just whirls around and around, faster and faster.

He took a breath to calm himself.

"Right. Well, thanks. Trish, we gotta go, c'mon."

Hurriedly she jumped off the desk and followed him to the door.

As soon as they were back out into the night, the door slamming shut behind them, Dante's panic seemed to catch up with him.

"I can't believe it..."

"Dante, what's wrong? You knew, I told you!"

He staggered slightly, before facing her with a very grim expression. An expression that, in every sense of the word, frightened Trish. It did not fit his face; it cut away his spark, personality, and his attitude. It was not meant for this man that she knew so well...he saw no fear, and handled omens as an occupation. Could something like his brother, a member who should be loved but did not allow himself to be, really cause Dante such pain?

She suddenly felt very useless. He turned his back on her, hopelessly, the hair falling into his eyes, arms limply at his sides. This was not meant to be...every thought he had ever credited to Vergil's memory had been a past one, a grateful one. How, when they were children, they had been inseparable, joined at the hip. How everything had been so much easier before it all went to waste. How the brotherly bond had held them together, the way it was meant to be...

Slowly Trish put her gun away, and ever so gently, took a step closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, placing her head to lean against his back. Sighing deeply, he gratefully put his hands on hers, holding them there as he thought what happened to me? Have I always been this weak when it comes to family matters? It would explain why mom died when she did...and I couldn't save her.

And suddenly, as though reading his thoughts, she whispered into his ear the reply that he himself was contemplating.

"Vergil couldn't save your mother, Dante, or you. He hasn't done you favours. You need to let it go..."

"I was thinking more that he needed to..."

"Well, that's his problem. All you need to do is stop him. And you know I'll help..."

The senses came back, overwhelming and new. Truth, virtue, strength, and reason all moulded into one. Finally smiling a little, Dante held onto his partner's arms and turned to face her.

"So I guess if Verge wants to play games, better get the ball rolling huh?"

Tossing her golden hair, she started to stride, him at her side as they both considered the next move. Advancement would have to be swift if they were going to succeed, and Dante would have to start thinking more along the lines of his brother's mind...which would not be easy. It was hard to understand why Vergil had killed the Order Official, Dante thought, but there had to be a reason. Vergil was rational; everything that he did made sense to him. But he was also very selfish. Yet Dante remembered his complex mind well enough to know that he must of had a reason for the Official's murder.

It would explain why Nero had returned without Yamato, would it not?

Of course, Vergil had wanted it back. That was most likely the reason; perhaps he had asked the Official to tell him where it was...had that way been given the link to Nero...and the rest was history.

"Most of its logic." Dante muttered, gazing at Trish who looked back at him curiously. "He must have asked the guy about Yamato, then known Nero had it...tracked us down to Fortuna Castle. Lady was right..."

"You don't say Batman. I dunno how you could have doubted her, must of been my absence."

She had a point. But that was the past now, they had to count on the future; to catch up with Lady, and see a few tourists' sites on the way...

It was dark by now, the sun long gone. Darkness came with a purpose tonight, and everything fell into a haze of disorientation and unexplainable decay.

The silence enveloped him in its eerie mystery. It was very peaceful, not like the place he had seen in his dream. But the silence...the silence was otherworldly.

Of course, he heard nothing. But deep inside, behind his heart, below the ice, he felt the breath of silence touch his soul. Heard it whisper in his ear, and gently tingle over his closed eyelids.

Into the silence...such a beautiful melody.

Suddenly ruined by her impatient sigh...

"This is pointless..." her voice muttered, edged with a shallowness that she did not really hold. There was so much she could not see, so much she didn't care to know.

Lady just watched the world. Vergil could see it.

Opening his eyes, he slowly turned to face the young woman, hardly able to see her through the night, but could just about tell she was leaning against a random headstone. He himself did not know why he had decided to come here, but something within him had told him that it was a good idea. Plus he had not visited in so long...the dream had surly been a sign.

Looking at her now, he was compelled to say exactly what was on his mind.

"A rose with so many thorns. It is unfathomable..." he whispered outwardly but she obviously did not hear. Looking past him, she certainly did not care for his thoughts or feelings; she believed he felt nothing. In a way, she was right.

"Shall I tell you why I brought you here?" Vergil's voice held no rhythm, and came out with a very bored edge.

"It would be a start..." Lady snarled before pulling her body up and walking a little closer. He turned back, coat tails flowing.

"Then come here..."

Obediently, Lady took another few fearless steps until she was beside him, her small frame challenged by his tallness, but she was not intimidated. She didn't really think she had a reason to be...

At least not yet.

"Look." He muttered, nodding towards the headstone laid at his feet. At first, Lady did not catch on. But she realised what he meant after reading the simple name "Eva" engraved in gothic letters across the harsh stone.

Slowly, she removed her glasses and hooked them onto her shirt, a placid expression taking her face. Vergil however, did not miss the unprovoked sorrow that lay beneath the skin.

He knew better than to mention it.

"Your mother..." she whispered, forgetting that since last night, she despised Vergil more than anything or anyone she had ever come across, aside perhaps her father. "I didn't know that she was buried...Dante never told me...never showed me-"

"That's because he does not have the stomach to face the past." He pointed out simply, hands held together near his waist, Yamato supported by their unity, its sheath embedded into the ground.

She suddenly looked at him oddly. Something came to her mind, something she was very sure of.

He really did not care. Not an ounce of remorse chilled his visage, not a glimmer of regret visible in his eyes. He was just...empty. No wonder he was the perfect villain, she supposed. It seemed that he had felt such pain and such suffering for so long that it had eventually spanned into such complexity that now it was only nothing.

Lady looked within herself...was that pity tickling her heart?

No, never.

"You don't miss her, do you?" she could not help but ask, could not stop herself from uttering the words.

Vergil felt momentarily surprised. She cared? But why? He did not expect her to get involved, but then he realised that, being human, her cancerous emotions were provoking her curiosity.

"You said so yourself, Lady. It is pointless. She is dead, and being human, was destined to die. You creatures are born to meet your demise...with every breath you consume, your life goes on, and you move closer to fate."

"That doesn't answer the question, and I already knew that." She muttered darkly, shifting, looking about with a judgmental gaze. "Why are we here? It's not because you wanted to see a headstone..."

"No, it is not. There are only bones under this soil, not my mother. I actually decided to come here due to a dream I had last night."

She snorted ignorantly, laughing without humour.

"Like a premonition? What a waste..."

Vergil let a smile crop up and turned to look at her intently, burning through to her very core.

"It was actually for your benefit. You shall see, this place is like a test...I advise you to be wary."

She smiled back, this time with sarcasm printed on her features.

"And I advise you not to underestimate me...I can look after myself."

He shrugged.

"You're welcome to try. So far you have only failed." That brought her back down to size; he thought, the grin wiped clean off her face. He could not help but feel smug. "You are the child of a human...you only know the sky as you see it when you look up. Ignorance is bliss, after all."

He nodded at his own belief, though Lady's frown only deepened.

"Such simple happiness." He muttered, shaking his head. This, to Lady, made no fathomable sense.

"I am not happy, I told you before...not with you."

"Sorry I don't amuse you."

And then he was gone. In an instant, faster than lightning. Darkness evaded the space where he had been, and for a moment, Lady felt fearful. She looked about herself widely, and was suddenly reminded of the time when she had seen that demon die in Fortuna Castle due to Vergil's hand. Although she could have handled it herself...and wished she had never seen him that night, nor ever.

"Vergil?" she asked the silence, but there came no answer. All that greeted her were the countless gravestones, hundreds of them spanning for acres of dark land, and she remembered that she was about two miles from the Jag. He had made her walk far, and now she knew it was for this reason.

She went over the day in her head...left the house, driven the car without a syllable uttered, and then finally come to this place.

Did night usually come this quickly?

A sudden sound like metal grating marble rang in her ear, but as she turned, blackness was the only thing there. Immediately, she found one handgun and cocked it quickly, prepared for the worst.

It happened very unpredictably after that. Something so strange that she had never come across before, a completely alien kind of experience.

The silence...began to sing.

Was it just her? Was it a kind of defence in her head, signalling that it was all too much, too dark, too quiet? A kind of buzz to put her at ease?

No...it could not be. For with each passing second, it sang louder, and the hymn became a melody.

Then the earth quaked. Lady's balance almost faltered, and she had to rearrange her legs to stop herself from falling.

What the hell was going on? The singing, the shaking? It made no sense...

Until, that was, her eyes were finally given the gift of its sight.

And it was wretched. Lady's pupils expanded somewhat, for this was certainly no minor demon. It seemed elite...a kind of beast she had never seen before.

It was dark, as black as the deep night, hard to track with the use of naked vision. Tantalizing and smoky, it seemed to draw itself closer, and what seemed to be its arm extended, weaved in nightmarish smoke. Its blank face opened up, no eyes visible but its mouth hissed, silver teeth contrasting with twilight. Saliva fell from its open jaws, and of what she could tell, the elusive creature took a step closer, so Lady jumped back.

Claws came into view, long, sharp and white. Lady held up one handgun, this time determined...

She would show Vergil. She wouldn't fall to this petty creature of night.

A sharp sound slashed in her ears, something quick and almost transparent fleeing past her face, and without hesitance her finger hit the trigger repeatedly.

Bullet...bullet...bullet

The clear bang of each eruption seemed to make it all better. The world righted itself, every vibration jading itself into her hand healing her, making it all normal again.

She was not the hunted...not the prey. She was the hunter, and the beast would die. Because that was the way it was meant to be.

Finally, Lady's logic returned.

But so did Vergil. She didn't even notice him standing beside her once more, all she now knew in her world was that her duty was to pull triggers and kill demons. Cock, pull, fire. Cock, pull, fire...

...even though the demon wasn't even really there. Vergil had found the source of Lady's self-inflicted purpose, but she was so wrapped up in things that she could not win that she was blinded.

He looked at her, and for a moment, felt a pang of sorrow fist his heart. She still could not see him there, was still concentrated on killing the beast that he had created and planted in her imagination. The bullets continued to ring out in a deathly rhythm, a perfect three second break between each one.

Until finally, Vergil layed a hand on her gun, and Lady jumped, eyes wide with fright. In that small instant, she seemed to realise where she was again. The gun fell to her side slowly, and he held her eyes in a steady gaze. Defiantly she looked away, back to the spot where she was certain she had seen that demon...Vergil's stare did not move from her shocked, puzzled expression.

"Do you now understand how a child of a human only sees blue skies and nothing more?" he pondered aloud, and still, knew she couldn't relate. With strength, she turned back to him, a deep frown setting in to damage her innocence.

"No." She said, truthfully. She had no idea what he meant, she would not lie.

Slowly Vergil blinked, a kind of mutual feeling setting in. She was honest when he didn't deserve it, so in turn he should be...

"The beast was never there and I never left you. It was an illusion."

"You did that?" her mouth hollow with surprise, Vergil careful to dodge her anger.

"Yes. It was only optical. But it proves my point regarding this immense world. You cannot see it, which is good, because if humans truly realized the infinite span of the sky, they would surly die in despair..."

Finally fed up with his riddles, Lady burst out.

"But your mother was human! Your half, how can you stand there and-?"

"I do not embrace my human heritage, I have blocked it out and so it means nothing!" his tone spiteful and venomous, just like her glare.

"This was just pointless, utterly pointless! You brought me here to tell me the sky is blue-?"

"No, I brought you here to make you see that everything you know and fight for is a complete sham. You spend your life committing yourself to an impossible task; to kill ever last demon. I could not complete that task, so you never shall!" they both fell silent, but Vergil had not finished and thought for a moment about what he would now say and mean.

"Your human, but you're not like the rest. Why do you think I picked you?"

"For your own sick fucking amusement-"

He rolled his eyes and tried again.

"No, because whether you want to acknowledge it or not, your quite similar to me. So you will help me..."

Suddenly more aware, Lady looked at the icy man carefully, top to bottom. Again, he seemed immobilised, not one perfect feature quivering. With the dark backdrop, she was aware of his haunting handsomeness, but put it aside. It was the cold she noticed, freezing, emotionless, corruptive...Vergil in a nutshell.

She started again, slow and careful.

"What exactly are you planning, Vergil?"

He glared at her with those piercing pupils, finally sensing that she was on the same page as him.

"To finish what I started. To open up hell and take it, I believe the seal under Fortuna's city is the one I need...and you will come with me."

"For power?"

"In ways...power validates my existence. But mostly because it is my place to do so. I will see Dante again, and when I do I'll savour every moment, but my plan mostly concerns your pure blood and my heritage. Now go back to the car."

She stood for a moment, gaping, unbelieving. What he had just told her was revolutionary, yet not in a good way...and he wanted her to go back to the car? To drive to Fortuna and fuck the world up by unleashing hell? What about the innocents that would suffer? What about humans...?

"You won't pull it off. You failed last time, and you'll fail this time!"

With that she stormed back up the graveyard path.

And so she did not see the son of Sparda kneel on his mother's grave, and whisper most beautifully, "I'm sorry."