Ok I don't really like the idea of fifteen year-old Alanna having sex so she is now sixteen. Jon, Raoul and Gary are now eighteen, Alex is seventeen and Francis and Douglass are sixteen. They do high school differently in Tortall so you're nineteen when you graduate.

Duke Roger Conté made it very clear on the first day of him teaching gym class that they were to address him as either "Coach Roger" or simply "Roger". So many of the boys were obviously in too much awe to consider calling him only by his first name and many were too busy fawning over him that they accidentally addressed him as "Coach Conté" or "Mr. Conté". He had laughed and said that since there was already a Mr. Conté in the class (here, the duke gave a small wink to Jon) he would not want to confuse the lot of them by having another one around. And so, it came to pass that Coach Roger quickly become everyone's favorite teacher in the school. Everyone's favorite except Alanna.

I already have one annoying Conté man to deal with and now I must put up with another? Alanna had tried not to scowl so considerably when Coach Roger waltzed into class on Monday after the Festival of the Dead weekend and announced that he would be taking over as gym teacher. This caught everyone off guard. It had been the gossip of the school that he would soon take over the old coaching position but for him to come so suddenly? Surely they were the luckiest students in all of Tortall!

And no matter how often Alanna thought over it for the next two weeks, she could not figure out for the life of her what exactly about Roger Conté it was that grated her nerves so. Sure he was charming (but Jon was even more so, when he wasn't being a bastard). Roger had perfectly styled brown-black hair (she much preferred Jon's slightly mussed black hair, although she'd love to take a racket to his head) and those piercing blue Conté eyes (Jon's were much warmer than this stranger's, but yet Alanna wanted to poke Jon's eyes out with hot needles). And of course Roger had done this and that; Alanna wanted to tear her own hair out every time some kid in class whispered some non-relevant accomplishment whenever Coach Roger had his back turned. After the first week of having him here, Alanna decided to go look up exactly what made Roger so special that people had to piss their pants every time the man looked at them. When she typed in his name into Google Alanna did expect something but not as much as what popped up. For her entire Friday evening that week she sat in her room and read over everything there was. She didn't even look up as Jon came in their room around midnight.

Duke Roger Conté was the nephew to the current Prime Minister, Roald Conté. Roger had graduated from this school many years ago as valedictorian of his graduating class with honors in math, science, history, sociology and language. He had been the captain of the fencing team since his sophomore year and won the end of the year competition four years in a row. He had also won the title of Best Junior Fencer in Tortall in his junior and senior year. After high school, he went to the prestigious university in Carthak where he received a degree in medicine, astronomy, sociology and international affairs. Even there Roger continued his fencing career and went on to win numerous competitions and was the current title holder of best fencer in the Eastern Lands. A prince from the Yamani Islands had heard of this and came to Tortall to challenge Roger. The prince left sorely defeated. Roger had found a cure for the Sweating Sickness for his senior dissertation and won an award from the Prime Minister. After his years at the Carthaki University he came to Tortall and was appointed as ambassador to Galla for a few years before settling in as a highly sought out guest lecturer in colleges in the Eastern Lands, the Copper Isles and the Yamani Islands. All this and the man was only thirty.

It was around one a.m that Alanna finished reading through every biography on the internet she could find about her current gym teacher. To everyone else, this man was a living genius and to say that you personally knew him was a great honor. To Alanna, she found it highly suspicious that such a successful young man with so many accomplishments would be content with being a high school's gym teacher. And fencing coach; she couldn't forget that, even if she was not on the said fencing team. She tapped her fingers on her thigh in annoyance. Perhaps she was over-thinking this. Perhaps Roger really had just been looking for the right calling and he had found it in teaching therefore being happily content at the prospect of working here for the rest of his long years. She scoffed. Yes, and perhaps Alanna and Ralon should have a slumber party and spill all their deepest secrets to each other.

"Hey." That simple statement made Alanna snap out of her Roger thoughts. Ever since the Festival of the Dead, Alanna and Jon's relationship had gone from cloud nine to nonexistent. He now could no longer refer to her as 'Alan' and he could not manage to say 'Alanna'. So now whenever Jon wanted to get her attention he simply referred to her as 'Hey' even around their friends. It made for an extremely awkward and uncomfortable atmosphere whenever they would get together with their friends. Alex had made some sly comment on it but Jon had snapped back with a sharp "What's it to you?" and no one brought to it up again when they were in a group. It was a different tune whenever Alex, Gary or Raoul tried to wring something out of her in private. Alanna did the best she could to squash their suspicions by telling them that yes, Jon and her had an argument but it would blow over in no time. Many times they asked what exactly the nature of the argument was but she always answered "Mind your own damn business." It didn't help that now she had distanced herself from her friends. All of it Jon's fault of course.

"Have you seen my iPod?" Jon asked. When he had said 'Hey', Alanna's heart jumped a beat. She had been so hoping that Jon might want to talk, might want to initiate some conversation about Alanna's confession. But no, he was asking her for his motherfucking iPod. How was she supposed to know where the damn thing was? She hadn't used it last!

A dozen other profanity laced retorts came to mind but Alanna only replied with "No I haven't seen it at all." And that was the end of their fruitful conversation that night. When Jon got up that Saturday morning to go to his fencing meet, Alanna almost jumped out of bed. She wanted to. She wanted to wish him good luck. She also wanted to take a foil to Jon's hide and beat him until he felt as awful as he had been making her feel but she restrained herself and rolled over to go back to sleep.

So now, two weeks later and Jon and Alanna were still on barely talking terms. Aside from 'Good morning', 'Good night', 'Where is this item' and 'Did you get the homework for this class?' they said little else to each other. Before when they conversed little in the evening it was either because they were both tired or had a pile of homework. It was still the same: both came back to their room after a long day of work and exercise, both tired and carrying books for their homework but now, like with friends, it was uncomfortable. There were no more uplifting smiles or small touches when they brushed past each other. No more sudden hugs and especially no more kisses.

And worst of all, she had no one to tell. Alanna could not tell Coram about this. She didn't know quite exactly what he would do, besides curse her for her stupidity and possibly drag her back home. No, Coram was out of the question. Perhaps she might be able to tell Thom. He was her twin and no matter what kind of shenanigans Alanna managed to get into she knew she could always count on Thom to understand. She had called him a total of four times. Once it had gone to voice mail but the other three times Thom picked up Alanna could not bear to let him know how she had screwed up so badly. So instead of telling him what she had been going through Alanna opted to tell Thom about classes, about Coram, about school, about the Festival of the Dead festivities she had gone to but left out everything about Jon. Only when she said good-bye and hung up after the fourth time did Alanna sit down and start crying. She almost wished that Thom would call and hear her crying so she would absolutely have to tell him what was wrong. She sniffled back a few tears and put a stop to her blubbering.

How silly and childish of me! Alanna thought. I am not some fourteen year old empty-headed school girl that had to rely on some damned boy to keep me happy. I am Alanna Trebond and I will act like it! Instead of focusing on Jon that night, Alanna found herself focusing on his older cousin, not that it was a healthy substitute. She managed to find a copy of Roger's dissertation of his cure for the Sweating Sickness and read it completely through with a medical dictionary handy.

It wasn't until many months later after the events of the school year had died down when Alanna admitted to herself that her frustrated obsession with Roger Conté had only served to keep Jonathon off her mind.

The writing prompt in Composition and Writing class was easy enough: write a short fictional story about grief and loss. It was all Alanna could do to restrain herself from not ripping up the prompt paper into shreds and throwing it into Mr. Huron's face. Were the gods purposely taunting her? Was this her punishment? To be reminded of Jon in every class period, even when he actually wasn't there? It had been hard enough dragging herself back to their room after they had come back from the city. It had been harder still when she realized she would be there alone that night since Jon went to go sleep in Raoul's room. And still it had been so hard not to sit up and wait all night hoping that Jon would stumble in some time in the early morning. Alanna had stayed awake until four a.m. and only then when she was absolutely certain that Jon would not return soon did she curl up with her pillow and cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. Only when her head started throbbing and her throat was sore did Alanna finally rip off her stupid red costume dress, toss it in the wastebasket and go back to bed to sleep. She had woken up that afternoon and still Jon had not returned. Her eyes had still been red from crying last night. It was a small mercy that Jon didn't see her like that. She would have never admitted to it, much like never admitting to Ralon giving her a black eye.

As for her short story in Composition class...Alanna ended up writing about a beautiful princess whose country was in the middle of a civil war and was dealing with the death of her mother. She wasn't entirely sure where the idea had sprung from but it met the requirements and Alanna turned it in at the end of the class. She knew it was a piece of poor quality but she was past caring. Many things she handed in these days were of poor quality. Alanna just found it harder and harder to concentrate of late and many assignments were turned it half done or half-assed. She absolutely refused to admit that loosing Jon was causing her so much pain. After all, she didn't need to rely on him to regulate her emotions.

Yet at the same when Alanna handed in her terribly written work, she still hated Jon for making her feel this way.

Lunch was dreadful. Or it had been the first week. Seeing Jon sitting across the table and laugh and joke with all their friends and completely ignore her was torture. Her first reaction was to feel as someone had put a knife in her chest. Although she had sat across from him like she had the entire semester, Jon never once deemed it worth his effort to look at her. Not so much as a glance or a peek from the corner of his eye. The first day, Alanna could only manage a few bites and sipped it all down with water while her stomach continually tied it's stupid self into knots. The second day brought no relief. The third day it was apparent to even Ralon her bully that something was amiss in their group. And on the fourth day, Alanna went to the vending machine in the lounge, bought a sandwich and from then on, ate in her greenhouse haven.

Alanna dragged herself up the main stairs to her dorm room. On one shoulder hung her school bag, heavily loaded with yet more homework. From her other shoulder hung her bag of fencing equipment. Not making it onto the team during the first semester had seemed like a nightmare, until Alanna realized it didn't mean that she would have to stop practicing altogether. So while her friends had their official practices and meets, Alanna would find a practice room in the athletic hallway and trained by herself; sometimes she was lucky enough to find another person training there and challenged them. Usually that person would fight her once and suffered such a defeat at the hands of Alanna that they deemed it quite sufficient to be humiliated by the short stocky boy. Alanna didn't mind. Alone she could perfect her stance and techniques without someone watching her every move.

Cursing the school for its lack of elevators, Alanna wiped her sweaty brow and trudged along until she finally reached her room. She jiggled the key in the lock, realizing that her door was unlocked. That was strange. Jon couldn't have been in here at this time. He was still at practice. Alanna carefully nudged open her door, ready to whip out a foil if need be.

On her bed lay George, fast asleep.

Alanna could only stand in her doorway in confusion before she managed to close her door and dump her bags at the foot of her bed. George awoke suddenly and rubbed his eyes, taking a few moments to become aware of exactly where he was.

"Hello lass," He grinned, which made him more handsome than before. "Have you missed me much?"

A welcoming face was exactly what Alanna needed right now. She hugged him tight around his shoulders, surprising herself and George at the same time. "Silly thing to say to a friend you haven't seen in a while."

"I'll take that as a yes!" George hugged her back, warm arms encircling her small frame. It had been forever since she last saw her thief friend. Their texts and sporadic phone calls didn't make up for seeing him in person.

"I don't mean to be blunt - "

George's hazel eyes flashed. "But I know you will be."

Alanna stood in front of him and placed her hands on her hips. "What in the name of the Great Mother Goddess are you doing here? And during school hours? And how did you get in?" Honestly, this school's security sucked. If George could come and go as he pleased without someone saying a word than anyone could get in. Or not, Alanna considered. After all, wasn't George King of the Rouges? Surely sneaking into a boarding school with minimal security was the least dangerous job he must have faced in months, if not years.

"So many questions you ask me but yet none of them are about how I'm doing or how my business is or even about my poor mother." George crossed muscular arms across his chest and tried to adopt a disappointed expression.

"Alright George how have you been? How's business? And I didn't even know you had a mother but how is she doing?" Alanna said, exasperated already.

"Everything is just fine thanks. A couple of pesky…customers didn't want to pay for their goods they ordered but my boys and I sorted it all out. Nobody died and everyone involved still has their limbs so it was a good transaction. My mother Eleni is doing well like always. It'll take the end of the world to shake that woman. After all she did raise me all by her lonesome."

"…Do people usually loose limbs in your line of business? And your poor mother having to deal with you by herself."

"Ha! Poor mother indeed. People don't lose limbs all the time but every once in a while somebody will show up with a hand missing or a forearm or a foot. Nothing too serious. I usually said them right on to the hospital where my mother works and she can manage to reattach anything. Except a head."

"That's good to know. Gods forbid should someone lose their leg or a head. And again, your poor mother!"

"After raising me I'm sure my mother could do anything." George smiled and looked up at her Metallica poster above her bed. "But yes, heads are usually trickier to reattach than a hand. It's a company rule that you can't lose your head or else you're fired."

"How has that worked to improve morale?"

"I'll have to get back to you on. More study is needed." Now he was looking at her again. Alanna got a strange feeling in her stomach and wondered if now was the time to make an absurd excuse and run out the door. "Now that we've cleared away all the niceties, I suppose you'll want to know why I'm here. As it turns out, your friends are worried about you. Said you've been acting strange for a fortnight and haven't given up a single clue as to why."

Alanna had enough of this mother-hen behavior. Gary and Raoul had personally taken it upon themselves to pester her relentlessly, saying that it was in her "best interest" to let them "help" her. What did she need help with exactly? How did George even find out about this? She hadn't told him. Suddenly, it dawned on her.

"Let me guess. Gary called." Alanna crossed her arms over her chest.

"What's wrong with Gary calling? He's a nice enough lad. And he's worried about you. He didn't call me to drag my ass up here so I could pester you or for me to report back to him once you've spilled your little heart out to me. Gary called because he thought you should talk to someone."

"I'd rather you just come to harass me. I don't need to talk to anyone because nothing happened! Why do they keep bothering me about stupid things like that when I can take care of myself? I don't want them meddling in mine and Jon's business. And I'm sure Jon would appreciate it too if you didn't snoop around where it doesn't concern you. "

"It's practically my livelihood to snoop. Was it Jon that did you in, lass?"

"What?"

"Gary did mention you had some sort of squabble with that lad. But Gary doesn't know you pulled a gender-bending stunt and are strutting around as a boy. And this whole business with Jon, being friends one day and not the next, you have to admit it's a wee bit fishy."

"First off, I don't strut. Secondly, there's nothing fishy about a disagreement between friends. It will blow over and soon we'll all be merrily skipping around school in no time."

"Do you expect me to believe that lass? I can see why you won't want to talk to Gary. But what about me? I already know you're not a boy and I don't go to your school. I won't have anyone to tell about this. Please lass tell me what's been a-bothering you. Sometimes you only have to talk to a friend to remind you that the world doesn't stop because one bad thing happened. And you can relax, I won't judge you. You're definitely not the worst person I've met. Hell you won't believe some of the blokes I run into in my line of work. And I'd rather be having a somewhat normal conversation with you right now than going back to the Dancing Dove for more work."

"I just don't want to explain it. It's not as if I don't want to tell you because I don't trust you. It's that," Alanna sighed and looked at George. He waved his hand for her to continue. "I don't want you to think I'm a screw-up."

"You're not a screw-up, no matter what you tell me." He swatted her gently on her head. "I'll tell you a story about screwing up. When I was younger, before my ma found a job at the hospital, we were living on Spindle Lane in the Lower City, and you can only guess how jolly that must have been." Alanna nodded. Spindle Lane was notorious for its high numbers of crime and violence. "Long story short, I fell into the wrong crowd too early. I loved the thrill of it. Finally I found someplace where I felt as if I belonged and I would come home with pickings from the heists I took part in. My mother, she's a smart and proud woman. She wouldn't accept none of what I brought home. I tried to make life easier for her, bringing back money, jewelry even food but she always tried to sway me to stop. I didn't listen obviously. I found something to do outside of school and it meant I didn't have to spend time in my miserably run down home.

"One night, a group and me were sneaking into a house we'd been eying for a couple of weeks. The owners were some wealthy schmucks with a huge mansion. We thought it'd be just ripe for a picking but we waited til they were clear of the house before we'd make a move. Little did we know those wealthy schmucks were onto us and it wasn't until later that we figured out that one of own had ratted us out. So we were in this mansion, thinking the owners were on some vacation and the next thing we know we were surrounded by cops. I managed to slip past and was running out the front gate when I was shot. When I came to I was lying in a hospital bed in some prison infirmary. I did one year in juvenile detention and I had to sit by while my mother worked herself into debt whilst paying for legal fees and whatnot." George was playing with the hem of his shirt, his eyes cast down.

"I was the screw-up," He continued. "I had to watch my mother cry when she came to visit me. Had to watch her come in with old patched clothes and I sat inside and twiddled my thumbs. 'Course when I got out it was a different story." George immediately brightened up but Alanna would not forget the sadness that had come over him when speaking of seeing his mother. "I knew I had to change my ways soon or I wouldn't survive on the streets much longer. So I swallowed by pride and went out to broker peace between some of the more violent gangs. I got stabbed a few times, fought a few fights more than I care to remember and in the end I was crowned King of the Rouges and the streets of Lower City have answered to me since then!" George said, his voice smug with pride.

"Hang on, I'm a little confused." Alanna narrowed her eyes at George. "Crime got you into that mess but yet you continued to do it? Doesn't that run counterintuitive with the moral of your story?"

George grinned his mischievous grin again. "Stupid teenagers stealing TVs and having fifty different gangs on the streets is what did me in. Once I figured out that consolidating everything and making it into an organized crime business was a better option, I did just that and became King of the Rouges. And now look: we all work on a common cause and if you're ratted out by some traitor, well you'll rest easy knowing every thief and rouge in the city will be after that back stabber. Besides, did I even so much as mention that my story had a moral?" George sighed and sat more comfortably on her bed. Alanna mulled over this.

"Now that I've told you a little bit about myself I think it's high time you told me more about yourself." He winked at her. "Specifically a certain fight between you and a blue-eyed heart throb on a certain holiday two weeks ago."

Alanna stood and pressed her hands over her mouth closing her eyes. On one hand she didn't want to tell George about anything but on the other hand, she knew he wouldn't leave until she did. She turned to him and broke out in tears.

"That bad?" George gave a sympathetic look and took her in his arms. Alanna couldn't stop weeping.

"What an idiot!" She said into her friend's shoulder while cursing Jon. "I'm an idiot and he's an idiot. I lied to him and to everyone and I got myself into this stupid mess. I muddled everything up so badly and now Jon is hurting and he probably hates me right now!"

"Shush he doesn't hate you." George affectionately stroked her hair. "Why don't you

"Alright George; if I explain to you what happened that night, can you swear to me that you won't say anything about to Gary." Alanna sniffled. "And don't tell him anything that would make him think I'm a girl. That would really suck for me if you did. Then I'd have to beat you with my sword." She was sure her threat was made clear until George laughed.

"That little pig-sticker? I'd have you down on the ground before you took two steps lassie. But that's not what I'm here for. Go on. Spill."

And Alanna told George exactly what transpired between her and Jon since she had come to school. And it felt so wonderful to finally be able to tell somebody! Throughout her tale, George never interrupted her and didn't even so much as raise an eyebrow when she came to the bathroom scene at the club. Of course her face went red as she described how it was at that moment that she had told Jon she wanted to have sex with him that night and had been the moment when she thought it best to reveal her secret in the privacy of the bedroom in the penthouse. She left out the make-out and cuddling sessions; George could use his own imagination to determine the extent of physical interactions in Jon and Alanna's "relationship".

When Alanna finished, ending with Jon's forceful proposal to take a break, George whistled.

"That arrogant flap-mouthed weasel." He shook his head. "What a confounded, miserable, limp-dicked, pox-scarred son-of-a-bitch he is!" The Rouge muttered another string of curse ridden insults before sighing heavily.

"And you've been crying over him lass?"

"I thought you said you wouldn't think of me as a screw-up!" Alanna choked on her words and felt the tears welling up again. She found herself crying into George's shoulder again.

"I never said that!" George exclaimed and hugged her tight to him. "I was so surprised lass. You of all people crying over a boy!"

"It's ridiculous isn't it?" She sobbed.

"Naw it's only the hurt of first love." His voice was gentle. Alanna cleared her throat and stopped crying.

"How am I supposed to get over it?" Alanna leaned over to her nightstand to reach for a tissue. Her eyes would be red and she'd look a frightful mess. Hopefully George wouldn't mind her temporary ugliness.

"In normal circumstances I'd advise you to move one. However I think this may be a tad more complicated."

"So I do have to talk to Jon." She said sullenly. That is, if Jon even wanted to talk to her.

"Yes you will have to." George said rather forcefully. "I hate to say this, especially when Jon sounds like he was being an arrogant little prick, but you're at fault too. You did lead him on and you didn't even have the balls to tell him you're a girl when he told you he loved you." Alanna looked down at the tissue wadded in her hands. "Look lass, everyone makes mistakes. Some worse than others. Yes you may have broken dear lover boy's heart but I'm sure he doesn't hate you."

"Hmph." Alanna sat in silence and George followed her lead.

After some time, Alanna looked back up at him.

"I know what I did wasn't honest," she admitted, although not happily. "I have some making up to do. It's only something that I can do and no amount of yours or Gary's meddling will help. I don't how I'm going to get Jon to talk about it but if needs be I'll pin him to my bed and force him to listen." She saw George glance over at her fencing bag, amusement playing along the features of his face.

"Ever so subtle," He chuckled. "But honestly lass, don't worry so much about what Jon does. Say your apologies and give him time to think. Men always take longer to process thing than women." At this Alanna had to laugh.

George stood to leave.

"Oh I almost forgot this, lass." With a sly wink, George pulled out a small blue box from his backpack. Strange, it looked exactly like the one tucked away in her underwear drawer...

Mortified (and as red-faced as a drunken sailor), Alanna took the box of tampons George offered and hid it behind her back as she sputtered out a hopefully coherent sounding word of thanks.

"Remember when you came clambering down in the middle of the night like a frightened kitten and I was so kind as to find something for your particular ailment?" George zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, grinning the whole time. "Those happened to belong to my cousin Rispah. She's rather like you with a sharp tongue to match and hair near as fiery as yours. Although she's much taller in stature than you." Here, Alanna stuck out her tongue at the thief. "Rispah was in a mighty fine storm when I confessed to the crime the next morning. I had to tell her about you lass otherwise she would have gelded me right in front of my own people."

So much for trying to be discreet around here, Alanna thought. Maybe next week I'll just parade around in my panties for some laughs. "Your cousin Rispah: is she trustworthy at least?"

"Aye, aside from my own mother she's the most trustworthiest person I know. Don't worry, she won't tell a soul. And you have her to thank for her lovely, eh, gift. She suggested I bring you another box, just in case."

"Tell her I wish I could thank her in person. This is one thing less to worry about. And also please tell your cousin that she doesn't have to geld you. That would hurt your business if word got out." Pert as always.

George chortled. "Thank you kindly lass for looking out for me." He gave her a long, warm hug. Alanna nestled her head against his strong chest and again enjoyed that Rouge-ish scent of him. When he pulled away, Alanna wished she could just pull him back and have him hold her for a while longer. Who knew when the next time would be when she would be held so tenderly?

"You ring me up immediately if you need anything else, alright?" George lifted her chin to tilt her face up to his. With a dizzying thought, Alanna realized he was so much taller than Jon. And she liked that. "Whatever Jon does to you lass, I wouldn't lose sleep on it. You two both have amends to make and it isn't business for others to meddle in, although I wish you two would hurry up and apologize." He paused to think. "Well I think your Jonny-boy would be better off giving you an apology first and if he doesn't, I think you know who to call. I can be discreet when needed."

At this Alanna giggled. It had been much too long since she felt so light-hearted and she had missed George with his easy-going nature. "We should get together this weekend." She suggested, a little hesitantly. George probably had other things to do: drug deals to make, goods to smuggle and a club to run.

"That'd be perfect." George smiled. "If you don't have a car, I'll have someone pick you. Perhaps my lovely cousin Rispah? She's quite anxious to meet you." Alanna agreed and arranged a time to be picked up. With one last hug George left and Alanna was alone in her room. She rubbed her stomach as it grumbled in hunger. Without George there to distract her, Alanna realized just how hungry she was. It was later in the evening with thirty minutes left before dinner ended. She had come to know that few ate during this time and no one she knew would be there. Still in her gym clothes, she locked her door and hurried down to the dining hall. Sadly, she never made it.

Half-way there, as she was walking down a seemingly empty corridor deep in giddy thought over seeing George again this weekend, someone shouted "Hey short stuff." Alanna glanced up and there was Ralon and his gang coming down the hallway towards her.

Now with all the major characters having been introduced and/or at least mentioned we can move at a quicker pace with the story. Never thought I'd get to this point. And sorry to end the chapter with another Ralon cliff-hanger: I feel awful because I've neglected that slimy bastard, especially when he played such as important role in SOTL.

Hurray for George! I want George to be lying on my bed when I open my door. Without clothes. And with an equally naked Jon next to him…too much information? Review!