Claire woke with a start, the violent wave of nausea that gripped her stomach intense enough to make the room shift. Her body had been generous enough to give her a window of just a handful of seconds to launch herself from bed and bolt across the room with a speed she would have to be proud of later.

Her half-troll beloved who, ironically enough, normally slept like a rock, was roused by the sudden commotion. Jim blinked slowly, casting his bleary gaze around the room. Brain still sluggish from sleep, his eyes trailed from Claire's vacated half of the bed, towards the utterly unmistakable sounds of retching coming from the other room.

He rolled out of their low-to-the-ground bed and padded on all fours toward the bathroom. He entered the living room and nearly jumped out of his skin when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye, somewhere in the dark.

Realizing it was only his best friend, sitting up from where he had fallen asleep on their couch, Jim sat back on his haunches with a relieved sigh.

Toby, who was visiting the couple for a few days and, by association, New Jersey Trollmarket, swiped his phone from the coffee table and nearly blinded Jim with its flashlight.

"Was that Claire that just came busting up out of your room?" he asked incredulously, shifting his phone so that the light shone somewhere other than Jim's light-sensitive eyes.

"Yeah, man," Jim managed through a yawn, trying to smooth his raised hackles back down with his palms. "Who else would it be?"

Toby made an expansive gesture around his head with his hands. "I don't know, all I saw was something fast and hairy go running off into the dark-"

He stopped, finally catching onto the sounds of heaving from the bathroom that the quick and wild-haired Claire had fled to.

"Oh, that sounds gross," Toby remarked.

"Claire?" Jim called, rising on two legs and approaching the cracked bathroom door. "You ok?"

He pushed against the door and discovered Claire on her knees in front of the toilet, her elbows on the seat and her face cradled in her hands. Her thick and difficult-to-tame hair, free of the hairpins she wore during the day, was sticking every which way.

She groaned, sounding so miserable it broke his heart. "Am I dying," she croaked weakly. "Is this what dying feels like?"

"I think it'd take more than a stomach bug to kill off Claire Nuñez," Toby commented, appearing beside Jim in the doorway. "But, to be fair, I haven't seen you like this since your 21st birthday."

Claire turned her head to glower at him.

"Don't look at me like that- you and Darci were a mess," Toby said. "I was stuck holding back your hair, Darci's hair and trying to keep Mary from running off and doing whatever the hell Drunk Mary does when she doesn't have a handler."

"Still sort of glad I missed that one," Jim murmured.

"You should be. I wish I could have missed it. But I stuck being the responsible one. Me, Jimbo."

"Guuuuyyyyss…" Claire pleaded from the toilet, pressing her fingers to her temples. "Can we not right now?"

"Fine, fine. I'll take hair duty- again," Toby moved to kneel beside Claire, but hesitated as he reached for her hair. "It's not gonna, like, eat me or anything if I touch it, right?"

That earned him what was an impressively solid right hook to the shoulder, given Claire's condition.

Jim strode to the sink and grabbed a washcloth. He ran it under cool water and crouched down at Claire's other side, placed the damp cloth over the back of her neck and began rubbing small, soothing circles between her shoulder blades.

The three of them stayed just like that for the several minutes it took for Claire's nausea to pass and her vomiting to stop.

Claire reached up to flush the toilet and moaned miserably. She leaned against Jim's leg as she tried to steady her breathing and his hand came up, almost automatically, to run his palm over the crown of her head.

"Can you guys give me a minute?" Claire asked weakly, shifting the washcloth from the back of her neck to pat it along her collarbone.

"Do you want me to get you anything?" Jim offered.

"Just some water," Claire responded appreciatively.

They left Claire to clean herself up and Toby followed Jim into the kitchen.

"Wonder what made her so sick," Toby mused aloud, watching Jim pull a cup from the shelves.

"You don't think it was dinner, do you?" Jim asked, concerned. He set the cup down on the counter, momentarily abandoning his task to reach for the produce he had used to prepare their food and give it a cautious sniff.

"You and I aren't puking our guts out right now," Toby pointed out. He reached across the counter to flip the lid off of a crystal lamp, flooding the room with soft, warm light. Jim could navigate in the dark just fine, but the still very human Toby could not.

"Yeah, but nothing really makes me sick anymore," Jim said, setting the produce back down to return to his original task. "And I've seen you put away things that would kill any mortal man. Most of them being of the burrito variety, but still."

The bathroom door creaked open and Claire emerged. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it with a wince. She slid into a sitting position on the floor and hugged her knees to her chest, still looking pretty miserable.

Jim padded across the room to kneel beside her and passed her the cup he'd filled.

"Thanks," she croaked and took a tentative sip.

"Feeling any better?" Toby asked, moving to stand at Jim's shoulder.

"Sort of?" Claire shrugged and took another sip of her water. "Just tired now."

"Do you want to go back to bed?" Jim asked, accepting the partially filled cup she pushed into his hands.

She nodded weakly and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

Jim passed the cup off to Toby and scooped Claire up off of the floor. Toby wished them both a good night and they all returned to their interrupted slumbers.

"Claire, if you're still feeling that bad, go back to bed."

Claire, having been leaning preemptively over a bucket situated on the floor between her knees, looked up to glare at Toby. Only her face from the nose up was visible over the table between them.

"I'm fine, I just… need a minute," she growled back at him.

Toby rolled his eyes and lowered his phone, mid-text to Darci, to fix her with a look.

Jim and he had tried not to wake her, assuming she would want to extra time to sleep in after the night before. But Claire had still come strolling down the stairs from their apartment above Blinky's library not even an hour after they'd left, ready to work as usual-

-Only to immediately need to take a seat at the table, accompanied by one of the empty water buckets from a nearby corner.

"Seriously," Toby began. "I'm not trying to be a jerk. You look like you feel terrible-"

"Wow, thanks."

"-And if Jim were here," Toby continued, ignoring her comment, "he'd be the mom friend that tells you to rest up. Which means, in his absence, one of us needs to take over as the responsible one and, frankly, you're not stepping up to the plate, Nuñez."

"Stepping on… plates?" Aaarrrgghh's low rumble followed him through the doorway as he entered the library. In tow, he pulled a wagon full of various tomes and artifacts salvaged from the most recent sweep of the ruined Arcadia Trollmarket.

"Figure of speech, wingman."

"Where's Jim?" Claire asked, noting her boyfriend's absence.

"Keeping peace," Aaarrrgghh responded as he wheeled his wagon around the table, offering Toby a fist bump in passing. "Blinky helping."

He put the wagon down and set about searching for places on the packed shelves to store its contents. They'd need to start building on more shelves before much longer.

"Was there another fight?" Claire asked with an exasperated roll of her eyes. "I swear, the sooner the forge is up and running, the sooner-" She was interrupted by an involuntary dry heave and slapped her hands over her mouth, quickly turning to hover back over her bucket.

Nothing happened for several moments and, when she was convinced nothing would happen, Claire turned back to the table. Toby was staring at her, eyebrows raised meaningfully.

"I'm fine," Claire insisted venomously.

Behind him, Aaarrrgghh had fixed his worried green eyes on her and rumbled with concern.

"I'm fine, big guy," she assured, tone significantly softer when addressing the troll. "Just a bug or something."

"Bugs?" the krubera loped toward her, nostrils flaring as he took a tentative sniff of her shoulder. He looked confused. "Not bugs. But smells… different."

"Yeah, because she's sick," Toby proclaimed with an insistent jab in Claire's direction.

"Not sick," Aaarrrgghh corrected with a shake of his shaggy head. "But… different." He sniffed her again and snorted, breath tousling her hair. He fell back onto his haunches and tilted his head, nonplussed.

"What do you mean by different?" Claire asked, exchanging a look with Toby across the table.

"Don't know," the big troll responded, at a loss. "Very unusual. Like Claire, but not. Different."

It took Toby only a fraction of a second to decipher the worried look in Claire's eyes.

"C'mon, wingman," he leaned over to give Aaarrrgghh's forearm a playful slap. "I know we're not used to being around Claire anymore, but you don't have to freak her out just because she changed soaps or something."

Aaarrrgghh lowered his head, ears drooping and expression apologetic. "Sorry."

"It's ok, big guy," Claire assured, but she looked distracted.

Construction of the forge was well underway, and had been going strong for several months.

When they had initially discovered the New Jersey heartstone, it had only stood a dozen feet tall and, while the Trollmarket population had been reduced considerably during the battle with Gunmar, it had not been near large enough to do anyone any good- and still kind of wasn't, nearly a decade later.

The forge had been sitting near the bottom of the to-do list for a long time, set aside for more important projects: acquiring food sources and building up their livestock, constructing homes, pathways, a safe passageway for salvage crews to venture up top, and so on and so forth.

With a heartstone too weak to draw energy from and only a few dozen trolls, all of which were weary from months of travel, construction of any kind had been understandably slow.

Interest in seeing the forge completed had been recently renewed as many of the particularly battle-starved trolls were becoming restless and aggressive.

And restless, aggressive trolls had a tendency to start brawls over pretty much anything.

But rebuilding a huge construct from the ground up, especially with only a handful of trolls remaining who could even sort of remember how to build it, was proving particularly difficult.

And it was, for that reason, Jim found himself standing atop a raised platform that no one could figure out how to lower again.

Jim scratched his head, puzzled. He stamped an armored foot, as if that would be enough to compromise the integrity of the platform and force it back down.

He could hear Blinky, several stories below, grumbling to himself at the command console, fiddling with levers and buttons and trying to get something to work as it was supposed to.

Jim glanced up at the large blades hanging from the ceiling, dangling just above his horns. In theory, they were designed to swing menacingly back and forth, a challenging obstacle for a well-trained warrior. But, at the moment, they were frozen in place, all at various stages of their telegraphed paths.

The Trollhunter moved to the edge of the platform and peered down at his mentor.

"Any luck?" He called down.

"No, none as of yet," came the perturbed response. Blinky struck a lever, probably harder than was necessary, and huffed in frustration when nothing happened. "Oh, blast it all! This was running just fine the other day."

"Whoa!"

Ears swiveling toward the source of the outburst, Jim turned his head and spotted Toby, Claire and Aaarrrgghh entering the would-be forge.

"Last time I was here, you guys had barely broken ground," Toby remarked, marveling at the out-of-order platforms, pendulums, and other dangerous and sharp objects. "Now it's actually starting to look like a forge."

"And it would act like one too," Jim commented, jumping down to the ground. "If we could figure out what was wrong with it."

"What happened?" Claire asked, hopping up to sit along a nearby ledge, seemingly unbothered by the sheer drop at her back.

Jim shrugged. "We were running tests and it just kinda… noped out."

Aaarrrgghh approached Claire's ledge and peered down toward the gears beneath their feet. Claire grabbed a fistful of his shaggy fur to steady herself and looked down, not sure what she was searching for, but curious enough to look too.

"Probably jammed," the krubera suggested.

"I can climb down and look," Jim offered, moving to the ledge to gaze down too. His brows leapt toward his hairline in surprise. "That… actually goes a lot further down than I expected it to."

Toby popped up beside him and whistled, impressed. He raised his phone and snapped a quick picture.

Without warning, the gears suddenly roared to life, too loud and moving much too quickly than they were designed to. The four gathered around the ledge cried out and quickly grabbed onto whatever was available to steady themselves as the ground rumbled and rolled beneath their feet.

The obstacles and platforms retracted all at once and, after only a few moments, everything fell still and silent once again.

"Everyone ok?" Jim asked after a tense second. Wide-eyed and still recovering from the sudden commotion, his friends gave him a collective nod of affirmation. He looked over at Blinky, who was just as frazzled as the others. "What did you do?"

"I…" Blinky blinked his six eyes and regarded the console with uncertainty. "I haven't the foggiest idea."

"Maybe we should call it here," Jim suggested, removing his amulet and dissipating his armor. He rolled his shoulders, wincing. "We've been trying to figure this thing out all morning."

"I like the sound of that," Toby said. "I've been stuck with a vomity Claire and as much fun as that is-" he blatantly ignored Claire's glare, "-It'd be cool to see whatever else you guys built while I was gone."

Jim looked at Claire, brow furrowed. Sitting on the ledge, she was nearly eye level with him. "Are you still feeling sick?"

Claire waved dismissively. "I'm fine- Toby's exaggerating. I was just feeling a little nauseous this morning-"

"All morning," Toby mumbled.

"Keep it up and we're not showing you the gyre station," Claire warned.

Toby pressed his lips together. He crossed his arms and hummed in annoyance, but didn't say anything.

"That's what I thought." Claire hopped down to the ground. She cried out in surprise, suddenly losing her footing and grasped at the ledge.

Aaarrrgghh caught her before she fell and gently helped her back onto her feet. "Careful."

"Are you ok?" Jim asked, alarmed.

"I'm fine," Claire assured quickly, pressing her fingertips to her temple with a wince. "I must've got up too quickly- just a little dizzy."

"You sure? Maybe you should take it easy-"

"Seriously, I'm fine," Claire said, taking Jim's hand and giving him a reassuring smile. She shifted her gaze to Toby as he opened his mouth to speak and she raised her finger in warning. "Don't."

Toby was roused from sleep by the sound of Jim's quiet soothing and Claire's pitiful moans of discomfort. He had been sleeping in one of their spare rooms and managed to completely miss her mad dash for the toilet.

For the third night in a row, he found Claire in a familiar position in front of the toilet.

Jim was at her side, trying to hold her disheveled hair out of her face. He looked up and the two exchanged a worried look before Toby dropped to her other side and began rubbing her back.

Just like the nights before, they stayed with her until she felt better, provided her with water when she was finished and everyone went back to sleep for the night.

"It's called adventure, Claire. You love adventure."

"I mean, yeah, actual adventure. But I don't find convenience stores particularly adventurous." Claire examined the contents of a nearby shelf; sugary snacks decorated with cutesy cartoon characters and bold fonts.

Feeling unusually peckish, she grabbed for a bag of chips.

"Adventure is what you make of it," Toby countered, breezing through the snack aisle and into rows of vitamins. "You can have an adventure anywhere."

Claire hummed, unconvinced. She grabbed a pack of band-aids as she passed into the pharmacy section, having remembered that the first aid kit at home was running low; not every cut and scrape called for a magical solution.

"Why did you want me to come again?"

"Mostly because you're the only one of us with a car," Toby answered frankly, stopping on the other side of the shelf. "And because I have a couple of suspicions."

"Suspicions," Claire parroted flatly, stopping to grab this and that before moving to stand next to her friend. "What kind of suspicions-"

She came to a screeching halt when she realized what aisle they were in.

"Oh my god," she said, gaze roving over so many varieties of condoms and lubes. "You did not seriously drag me here so you can get something for you and Darci."

"I mean, not exactly-"

"Oh. My. God." Claire pressed her fingertips to her temples, mortified. She about-faced and fled for the safety of the snack aisle, trying to scrub her brain of any intrusive mental images.

Holding one of the convenience store bags behind his back, Toby approached Claire and looked up at her expectantly. "Wanna see what I got?"

She was seated at the counter, her treasure trove of forget-about-the-bad-thoughts snacks laid out before her.

"No," Claire deadpanned, tearing open a bag of chips. "Not even a little."

Toby rolled his eyes. "It's seriously not what you think it is," he assured. "At least not in this one. Don't look in the other bag."

Claire was too afraid of the truth to even try to figure out if that was a joke or not.

"No problem." She bit into a chip with a satisfying crunch and looked over at him, not able to completely mask her piqued curiosity. She sighed. "Ok, what's in the bag?"

"I'm so glad you asked." She heard the crinkle of plastic as Toby removed something from the bag and presented it to her. "Now, hear me out before you start freaking out-"

Claire's eyes widened as she read the words on the package. "Pregnancy tests?"

"I said hear me out!"

"Why in the world did you get pregnancy tests?" Claire asked, incredulous.

"You know exactly why I got you pregnancy tests," Toby said, mimicking her cadence. "You've been puking your guts out for days now."

"Oh, come on, TP." Claire rolled her eyes. "I've just been a little sick. It doesn't mean I'm pregnant."

"A little sick? Nuñez, you've been hugging the toilet every night since I rolled into town."

"That doesn't mean anything," Claire insisted. "Some nausea and vomiting is not a definitive sign of anything."

"But it can be a symptom," Toby countered. "Come on, Claire. You've been this sick and you still haven't gone to see a doctor- you have to know something is up."

"It's just a bug." Claire rolled the top of her chip bag and set it aside, already feeling her stomach beginning to protest. "It'll pass on it's own."

Toby snorted. "Seriously? You still think this is a bug?"

"It has to be a bug, Toby," Claire snapped turning in her stool to face him, "because what you're suggesting can't be possible and the only other alternative is not exactly something I want to even think about right now."

There was a hint of something in her eyes, something he hadn't seen in so long that it took Toby a second to recognize it; a tiny, but noticeable inkling of fear.

And, just as he had guessed several days prior, in the comfort of Blinky's crowded library, he realized what concern was itching in the back of her mind.

Toby exhaled. "You really think it's more likely Morgana found her way back into your head than that you might be pregnant?"

Claire was quiet for a moment, internally debating how she was coming off; in denial, too paranoid, or both?

"Kind of," she allowed. "I know it sounds crazy-"

"No," Toby said, taking a seat beside her. "It really doesn't."

He sat the box on the counter and Claire's gaze fixed on it immediately, wary.

"Why does that seem like more of a possibility to you?" He asked, tone devoid of any ridicule.

"Because…" Claire sighed, fiddling with her forelock.

The white streak she had developed in high school from Morgana's shadow magics had spread, engulfing the entirety of her bangs. No matter how many times she tried to dye it out, the color would never stick. While the implications of what that might mean bothered her, Jim had assured her he thought it was "cute" and that had worked to dispelled her concerns- at least in the moment.

"...We're not even sure if- I mean, logically, it can't be possible to-" she huffed, frustrated. "I love Jim, you know I do-" she looked to Toby for clarification and he gave a small nod in response. "But we're so… different. He's half troll and has been for a long time now and probably always will be-"

"At least according to a certain AWOL wizard," Toby couldn't help but interject.

"-At least according to a certain AWOL wizard," Claire agreed. "But with him being both half-human and half-troll, we can't be all that…" she rolled her wrist, searching for the word. "Compatible anymore. Like, genetically speaking."

Toby's brows knitted suspiciously. "Have… have you guys not been using…?" he trailed off meaningfully.

"Yeah! Yeah, of course we have," Claire confirmed quickly. "But it's always been more like we use it because we were always taught to and less that we think we're actuallypreventing anything, you know?"

"...Surprisingly, that doesn't actually convince me you've both been playing it safe."

"We have, Toby."

"So, then, you think magic - this mystical, mysterious thing we still barely understand- altered his DNA that extremely? That Jimbo's, what, sterile?"

"I don't know, TP- that's the point," Claire said. "Merlin never told us anything, but it's not like he ever does anyway. But, I mean, it would make sense, wouldn't it? Troll and human reproduction is so insanely different, what wouldn't make sense is this even being possible."

"Claire," Toby began, "It's magic. It doesn't make sense. We still barely know how it works; we've both seen it do some insane things, but you know it has a million and one limitations too. It's magic! Nothing is off the table."

Claire sighed, growing quiet for a moment. She reached out and picked up the small box from the counter, handling it as if it were made of glass.

"Aaarrrgghh said I smell different," she said. "'Like Claire but not.'"

"C'mon, he didn't mean anything by it," Toby insisted. "How many pregnant humans do you think he's been around? Closest thing was probably a cow or something, but that doesn't count. Cows don't count."

"Like Claire, but not." She repeated, brows knitted.

"He couldn't smell Morgana on you before," Toby pointed out. "This is something else. Something different."

Claire looked unconvinced as she studied the box in her hands.

"...If I do this, will you drop it?"

Toby grinned. "Promise."

She paused. "What if it's negative?"

"Then you can give me a big fat 'I told you so,' Jimbo will make you some soup or something and we can pretend this conversation never even happened."

"...What if it's positive?" She asked, more quietly.

Toby shrugged. "Listen, much as I would love to, I don't have all the answers. But I can totally help you figure it out. I mean, it's not like you're alone in this; you've got me, Jimbo of course, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh-"

"And me too, Claire-Bear!"

Claire jumped at the third voice, her attention snapping to Toby's phone, where he had placed it on the counter. Before he could stop her, she snatched it up and stared incredulously at the grinning face of one of one of her best friends as it filled the screen.

"What-? Darci? Why-" She looked at Toby, who was trying to feign innocence. "Tobias!"

"Hey, hey, hey, don't full name me!" He raised his hands defensively. "This is an important milestone, Darce would have killed me if she wasn't a part of it."

Claire, her steely gaze not leaving his sheepish face, popped open the box, grabbed one of the tests and headed for the bathroom.

"Wait, wait," Toby grabbed the box and started after her, "I know you- you won't believe the results if you don't take more than one!"

When Jim came home from making his rounds through Trollmarket, he found Claire, sitting by herself on the couch. She seemed lost in thought, plucking absentmindedly at her lip as she sat in front of the flickering static of the TV screen.

"Hey," Jim called, snapping her out of it.

She jumped, seeming to not even realize the TV had been on as she grabbed for the remote.

"Where's Tobes?" Jim asked, noting his best friend's absence. He moved to stand behind her and leaned into the back of the couch. "I didn't see him or Aaarrrgghh downstairs."

Claire tilted her head back to stare up at him. "They're at the pub with Blinky. So it's, uh, just you and me." She shot him a forced, everything's-totally-fine smile and drummed her fingers nervously on her knee.

Jim regarded her curiously. "Ok, soooo, did you want to go meet up with them, or…?"

"Actually, I kind of wanted to hang out here," she said, perhaps a little too quickly. "Just the two of us, you know?"

"I mean, that's cool and everything," Jim began cautiously, growing suspicious of her unusual behavior. "But Tobes and Aaarrrgghh are leaving for Arcadia tomorrow. Don't you think we should maybe spend the night with them before they go?"

Claire seemed at a loss for a moment. "Yeah- yeah, of course! But, um," she turned to face him and rose onto her knees. "I, uh, was wanting to talk to you for a sec? Really quick, maybe?"

"Uh, ok." Jim leaned down, resting his elbows against the back of the couch and crossing his arms so that they were near eye level. "What, er, what's up?"

Claire plucked at a loose couch thread as she thought. "I… I might have learned something… really interesting today."

"...Interesting how?" Jim proceeded cautiously.

"Like, really… really interesting."

"...Claire, you're... really starting to freak me out." Jim admitted, eyes wary. "What's going on?"

She sighed, defeated. "Yeah, ok. Just... let me show you something."

She slipped over the back of the couch and headed into the kitchen. Jim trailed after her, intrigued. She stopped at the counter and looked up at him expectantly.

Jim's gaze fell over the three white sticks lined up on the counter top and, after exchanging a confused glance with Claire, reached over to pick one up for inspection.

The instructions beside the test window were perfectly crystal clear, "two lines equal pregnant." But when he counted the pair of lines inside the tiny window, his brain turned to static, incapable of piecing together what this meant, or why these three tests shared identical results.

"This was the first one," Claire explained, pointing at one of the other tests. "I thought it was a false positive so I took another… and then another."

Jim dragged his gaze from the test in his hand and stared at her blankly. The gears in his head were still chugging along. "So, wait… you're…?"

"Yeah," she took a steadying breath. "I'm pregnant."

"You're… really…?"

"Pregnant." Claire finished for him.

"Pregnant." He repeated, staring down at her with glazed eyes. "How… how did this…?"

Claire hit him with the most noncommittal jazz hands he'd ever seen. "Magic," she responded, trying the best she could not to appear like she was freaking out internally.

Which they both very much were.

"...I also would have accepted the whole 'when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much' spiel." Jim said, smirking despite himself.

Claire laughed, relieved to see some of his humor returning. "Maybe next time."

Jim regarded her for a moment and Claire opened her mouth to speak, but the next thing she knew she was being engulfed by his arms. He held her to him, his hold firm but, as always, carefully restrained.

He buried his face into her shoulder and breathed in deeply. She thought she could hear the nervous thundering of his heartbeat as she coiled her arms around his waist.

"You're…" he began incredulous.

"Pregnant." She finished yet again, amused by his reaction.

"Yeah… that." He paused, trying to take all this in. He barely noticed when her fingers found their way into the scruff on the back of his neck."I didn't think... I thought, with the potion, we wouldn't be able to..."

"Nothing's off the table when it comes to magic." Claire responded, mind still reeling.

She ran her fingers through his hair- or fur? It was still up for debate; they hadn't decided yet. The repetitive motion was quickly working to soothe them both, quieting their loud, anxious thoughts and allowing them a moment to actually think instead of panic.

They stayed that way for a long while, just drinking in the significance of what this all meant for them.

"What do we do now?" Jim asked, at a loss. Because, what were they supposed to do now, both in the moment and later on?

"...I guess we'll figure it out."