TW: Torture scene

After an unknown amount of time, that Holly didn't have the mental capability to calculate at that moment, finally uncurled her body, and rubbed at her raw eyes. She sniffled plaintively while tilting her head to purposely avoid eye-contact with Hermione; she couldn't bear the expression that she knew was there. Instead, Holly slowly glanced to the side and dearly hoped Hermione wouldn't ask for details because she highly doubted she could give them at that moment. Accurately to Holly's assumption, Hermione, in that very moment, was biting her lip as if to stop herself from doing precisely that. Holly appreciated the effort, she knew how much Hermione deeply desired to know everything and every detail.

Sniffing slightly, Holly swiped a hand across her face to brush away the tear tracks; her eyes stung as she did so, they were raw from the crying she'd been doing. Every blink ached slightly, but Holly still felt oddly… better. She felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. Holly lifted her fingers and pressed them to her chest and made a soft noise. Well, it might have been the crying, or it might be because suddenly she felt whole.

"Oh dear," Hermione followed the trail Holly's hand made across her chest, watched as her hands settled directly in between her rib cage and she knew, "you've caught up to time,"

Holly pulled her hand away alarmed, "but Pomfrey will-"

"No, no, it's fine." Hermione soothed, "we'll just have to sneak into the infirmary and then travel back to the exact point we left. No one should notice… that, and we still have to speak to Ron. We'll have to tell him to tell me to travel and grab you… basically, we have to close the loop we've created."

"Alright," Holly stood up and swiped at her face one final time to catch the drying tears at her chin, "lets hurry then." Holly didn't watch to travel back more than she had to, the muted connection to her soulmate was brutal enough for an hour, she did not want that to last any longer if she could help it.

Hermione shook her head, "time-turners only fall back in hour increments, we'll have to be in the infirmary exactly in an hour to go back to know. Otherwise, we'll have to wait longer than that." Holly made a face but nodded her understanding. Hermione would know better, considering she'd be using the nasty thing for a full year.

"Do we know where Ron is right now?" Holly glanced at the mess she'd made in the hallway. Her accidental magic had cracked some of the walls and the flooring in the thankfully empty hallway. There were no witnesses to the event either, only Hermione, due to the lack of paintings in that one stretch of hall. Still, it would be better not to leave evidence of their travel. Holly pulled out her wand and cast several repairing charms on the nearby stone. Hermione was swift to copy her thankful they could for once use magic to do what Filch always made them to wandless.

"He was playing Chess I believe. We'll have to catch him as he heads up to the common room." Which gave Ron three hours to tell Hermione to travel back, and them one hour to get Holly back to the infirmary. Merlin, Hermione's head was already hurting from all the traveling they'd done and were going to do. There would be multitudes of her running around soon, and she badly needed to keep track of them and where she'd be.

"Yo ho ho ho, Yo ho ho ho~" Holly suddenly sang and Hermione gave her a surprised look. To that Holly just shrugged, "I've caught up with my time… I was just checking, but he's still unconscious."

Hermione nodded along as the last of the wall settled into place, before she did a slight double-take, "wait, how do you know he's unconscious?"

Holly's nose scrunched up. How did she? The simple answer was that since he wasn't singing back and had been in some manner of danger, she'd assumed he was likely knocked out. But the more complicated answer was… she just did. Like how she knew her connection was no longer muted, she knew he just wasn't conscious. It was like she knew exactly how to move her body to catch the snitch or how a spell would just work that time she cast it instead of all the failures before. Perhaps it was because she'd now felt the change in her connection, she knew what it was like to be muted, and the slight differences in it now were more pronounced but… she knew.

Would she know when he woke? That, she decided, would be an exciting thing to discover. Regardless, Holly gave Hermione the simple answer because she didn't want to get into yet. "I just assumed since he didn't respond yet, and my magic reacted to some danger he was in."

Hermione acknowledged the comment, and the girls moved on. Together they crept through the halls after tossing Holly's cloak back on. They moved silently, but swiftly to locate Ron where ever he may be. As they did Holly's mind wandered to Moony. To the distinct awareness that he was leaving, and she wasn't chasing after him. Holly didn't want to analyze that, didn't want to know why she was avoiding the man who should have been her god-father. Not even ten minutes before, she would have rushed straight for his classroom and would have pushed meeting with Ron to after. Now, she wasn't.

Still, even if Holly didn't want to analyze the why, she did. It was because she couldn't bear it if Moony denied her after promising he wouldn't leave her. Couldn't face it even if it was happening. Moony had told he wouldn't leave, said to her that Lupin had ignored him, and he'd explained why he'd never come to her. She believed him, believed that his words had been the truth. She loved Moony for that; in mere hours she decided she loved him, that he was her family but he…

Holly didn't trust him.

She didn't trust Moony to keep his eyes golden. Didn't trust Remus Lupin not to push Moony back and away and abandon her again. She didn't trust Moony to maintain control. Couldn't put her faith in more people and be let down again and again. So Holly wasn't running after Moony, or Remus Lupin, or whoever was currently in control. She couldn't put her hopes on anyone else or to be disappointed time and time again.

"There he is!" Hermione hissed out a breath, and Holly refocused.

One thing at a time, she just one to do one thing at a time.

"Hermione? Holly? What are you- oi don't grab! What's going on?!"

"Why are you skulking here?"

Ron tensed up and shot a look up and back in alarm. He'd been hoping against hope he was wrong, but he wasn't. He'd been caught by the worst person- okay, the second-worst person he possibly could have. Merlin, he really should have taken the cloak with him but, but the girls would need it in the past, so Hermione had to have it. Which meant he couldn't use it and there, he'd been caught as she'd said, 'skulking.'

"Parkinson." He hissed, shooting a slightly paranoid look at Lupin's classroom, "go away!"

Her brow arched, damned Slytherin's, you couldn't hide anything from them, and now he'd made her curious. "No, really… why are you hiding outside Lupin's class?" a smirk grew across her beaut- stupid face. "Perhaps because you Gryffindorks finally realized what he was?"

Wait, the Slytherin's knew?

"Stop giving me that face," she loosely played with her wand, Ron hadn't even seen her pull it. "Of course we knew unless that's not what you're doing? Well, then let me just go get professor Snap-"

"Wait, don't!" Ron jerked forward and snatched hold of Pansy's arm and yanked her back. She squawked in protest even as the skin under Ron's hand drastically warmed. This was the first time he'd ever touched her, and it felt… different. Not like Hermione or Holly. It was, he liked it in a way he couldn't explain.

"Let me go!" she swatted at his hand, not bothering with her wand like any proper witch should which Ron was grateful for.

"Shush!" he covered her mouth, mind frantic for a reason to give her that wouldn't involve the truth. How did he stop the Slytherin from going to Snape- wait, she was a Slytherin. He'd just have to- "you owe me one! And I'm calling it in."

Pansy swatted his hands off her mouth and gave him a near-silent snarl, but it was quiet, so Ron was relived. She was listening at the least. "I owe you nothing!"

"well- well, you owe Holly! And I'm calling that in-"

"Favors don't work like that!"

"It does for Gyrffindor's!"

"Oh please!"

"Parkinson," Ron urged, "please… just, don't tell anyone I'm here!"

Pansy stared him down, unaware that she was practically pressed against him, and she hadn't pulled away yet. Deep down, she could admit that she liked it, deep deep deep down. "Only if you tell me why." And it killed her to admit this, "Lupin is the best defense professor we've had, so I'm not going to let you Gryffindorks mess with him, especially not close to the-" she cut off disgruntled.

"Full moon?" Ron finished finding himself pleasantly surprised. He hadn't realized the Slytherin's actually liked their defense professor. He'd thought for sure they'd turn Lupin the moment they learned what he was.

"So, you do know." Pansy drawled, finally finding it in herself to pull back. This was dangerous, she shouldn't be this close to Weasley. Pansy had done a lot to ensure he didn't recognize her voice, especially her singing voice during Divination. Yet now she was having an extended conversation with him. It was a mistake, but it was one she was leaning into. "Not as stupid as I thought you were."

Ron felt his skin heat in embarrassment because he hadn't, Hermione had, and she'd let them know. Of course, he wasn't going to tell Parkinson that he didn't want her to have any more ammunition to use against him, "surprised you knew and didn't turn him the moment you found out."

"Please, we aren't all Draco-"

"Don't you mean," Ron posed and fluttered his lashes before pitching his voice to fake-swoon, "Draco~."

Pansy snarled once more and swatted his shoulder hard. Ron winced back, she had a mean swing. That was another girl that did, they were a scary breed, females. "Ouch, watch it!"

"You take it back!"

"Take what back? You're always like that around Malfoy!"

They'd gotten terribly off topic Ron realized distantly, but he was… he was rather enjoying it. Parkinson was enjoyable to chat with, even if they were just arguing and bickering with each other. Unknowing, Pansy was actually finding it the same, she was having… dare she say it, 'fun.' "Of course I'm like that, he's bloody rich, and my father works for him. Not to mention my father is allied to his, not that I'd expect you to understand that. Basically, if Draco decides to start a feud with me like his father did yours, you can say goodbye to my status!" Pansy felt her skin heat; she hadn't actually meant to say that, but… well, too late now.

"Oh… well…" Ron hedged slightly, "well, why didn't you give Lupin up?" even he'd thought about it for a moment, especially with how much the man focused on Holly. He'd only resisted because of Lupin's defense of Holly during the Boggart.

"Like I said, he's a good professor. Which!" she pointed at him, "brings us back to the point, why are you lurking outside his classroom?"

Ron frowned unsurely, he definitely couldn't give her the full truth but… a small one? "Heard a rumor that Dumbledore fired Lupin, I'm… checking." There, honesty without the whole truth and involving Holly and Hermione. The girls had been clear to avoid that at all costs, which is why he was sneaking around and watching Lupin's door instead of actually going in to check his eye color. The color Holly had been quite intense about, making him promise four times over to ensure if it was brown or gold. Though, Holly also hadn't seemed like she wanted to know what color Lupin's eyes were either. That was something he'd have to ask her about later once this had blown over somewhat.

"He what?!" Pansy hissed, moving closer to him once more, "why?!"

"Want the party line?" Ron commented while quoting his brothers.

"I want the truth!… and the party line." It was essential to know the full rumor, after all, she wanted to know what people would say and the truth.

"Dumbledore thinks Lupin is a danger to the school," Ron said, eying the door, but that was the party-line, Ron was confident that wasn't the truth. Sure it might be somewhat involved, but Ron knew the real truth was something the girls didn't want to know yet. Because Hermione still trusted Dumbledore, and because Holly had enough to deal with.

"He decided this randomly? After an entire year of Lupin teaching without incident?" Pansy was skeptical, but she was also a Slytherin, there was no way that was it. There had to be more. If there wasn't, she'd eat her wand. "As if."

"Hm," Ron continued to stare at the door as he tested Parkinson, the girl who was very likely his soul- "did you know Lupin was close to the Potter's? Like, god-parent close." He glanced up and to the side at Pansy, whose eyes went a bit wide.

"No, wait- he's a- no one-" her mind jumped quickly, looking at that comment through a Slytherin's eyes. Because Lupin was a werewolf, and if anyone discovered that then, he would be hunted down. There was no way the 'light' would allow Lupin anywhere near the girl-who-lived. They'd sooner put Lupin in Azkaban and say it was because he was a werewolf, and no one would argue either. It made sense that Lupin hadn't been in Potter's life before this, it made sense why Potter hadn't recognized or acknowledged Lupin either-

"But Dumbledore invited him to the school," Pansy said quietly to herself, thinking quickly, moving along the same path Ron had. Because Ron did strategy and when the girls told him he'd followed the path backward, wondered why Dumbledore would do that. He'd followed that path and come to a frightening conclusion. And if Pansy came to it to then- then it would be scarier yet. "Why would he fire Lupin now? If he hired Lupin aware he was a werewolf, then he trusted Lupin not to hurt anyone so…"

Pansy's eyes went wide, "did he tell Potter?"

"Tell her?" Ron tried to ask stupid even as his stomach sank, she'd come to the same conclusion, she was going to prove he wasn't completely mad-

"Don't act stupid! If you know Lupin was close to her parents, that means Potter knows, which meant Lupin tried to reach out… If Dumbledore fired him now, that means that…" her eyes locked with his, "Dumbledore fired Lupin to keep him away from Potter!... does she know?"

Pansy trusted Dumbledore as far as she could throw him. Any other Slytherin was the same. It was built into them, spoke about from even before Hogwarts then emphasized by their head of house. Dumbledore was biased, he was a Slytherin at heart and yet hated them. That was what their head of house said managing to offend the stupid and make the smart think. Because if the leader of the light, the head of Hogwarts, and Supreme Mugwump was a Slytherin… well… it sort of made sense. After all, he did possess a great deal of power, more so than any of their parents certainly. And with that much power, the sheer amount of shady under-dealings the man could manage without anyone blinking because he was considered 'light.' Well, it was a scary thought. So no, Pansy did not trust Dumbledore. No one in their right mind should. But to hear that same mistrust hidden deep within a Weasley's tone… that was unfathomable, and it filled her with an enormous amount of hope.

"She only suspects," Ron pulled Pansy from her thoughts with a half-answer. He looked away from her, eyes intent on Lupin's door, and Pansy suddenly saw a path open to her. It wasn't sketched out yet; it was like an animal trail in the woods, but it existed, and Pansy latched onto it near desperately.

"He's unnaturally focused on her Weasley," Pansy said testing, "he's always watching her, it's creepy. And now this? Tell me you don't see anything wrong with this?" Pansy stared Ron down, demanded with her expression alone to tell her a lie. Because Ron had noticed, she knew he had, but how far did it go? How little trust did the 'golden trio' really have in Albus Dumbledore? This was… this was exactly the chance she'd been looking for, precisely the future she believed before today to be impossible.

Admittedly despite her last name, Pansy and her family were not loyal to the dark lord. Not anymore. Pansy's father was marked in multiple ways by his foolish choices made during his teenage years. These decisions led him to bend down on one knee before a madman and gained a tattoo he'd never be rid of. Pansy's father had blackened their names, had been part of a number of fools that had decimated their people's numbers. He'd been drunk on power from a lord of magic, had performed rituals he still a decade later needed to cleanse from. He and their family had zero trust in anyone except for those who'd also followed the Dark Lord. He'd gotten out easily.

Pansy's father had managed to escape Azkaban following, by sheer luck, the example of Lucius Malfoy who had been under trial before him. He'd escaped that hell of a prison and steadily began to realize the folly of his youth. He'd learned a lesson that those within Azkaban mentally couldn't. That he'd made a mistake. A mistake that sometimes caused him to lash out emotionally because of the black magic seeped into his body from the Dark Lord's not-optional rituals. An error that caused his hands to shake so severely from cruciatus damage that he couldn't hold Pansy when she'd been born until his muscle spasms stopped. A mistake that caused him to sit her down a very young age after she'd copied the staunchly loyal propaganda that Draco had spouted about Voldemort.

Gently and firmly, Pansy's parents had explained the difference between a leader… and a madman. The difference between black magic and dark magic and what the former did to the body. Gently explained why the unforgivables were unforgivables for a reason and what sort of damage they did to a person, both caster and receiver. They'd been brutal but efficient. And now Pansy could say quite confidently that she was a Slytherin and a dark witch. She could also say, if the Dark Lord returned, her father would be killed, and Pansy swiftly removed from the country by her mother unless there was no other option.

Regardless, the chance Pansy hadn't ever expected to come from Ron Weasley, her apparent soulmate, was quite simply due to compatibility. A dark and light couple rarely worked out, soulmate or no. That and the Weasley's were blood-traitors who had forsaken their own ways. The Weasley's whose ancestors caused the Malfoy's - one of the Parkinson's allies - to never bear more than one child for the rest of eternity. Sure there were two sides to every story, but Pansy was well aware as a Malfoy ally she only needed to know that half. But… If Ron was a gray wizard and was at least neutral as this was implying, she could nudge him onto a slightly darker path. It was entirely possible that they could work out.

The very idea was foreign and incredibly appealing.

"To be honest, Parkinson…" Ron lifted his face to gaze at her, "I think it goes a little bit deeper than just watching, but I- we don't have proof. We don't have any proof of… anything, so… just… leave it be."

Absolutely not. Pansy could not leave this be, not with her soulmate, Potter, and Granger could be… turned. Not dark, but perhaps not beacons of light either. She could show them another path, pull them onto a gray path with her. No one in Slytherin even realized it was possible, but here Ron was giving her a chance. And… and if she succeeded, her parents may not be as opposed to Weasley and her matching up. She just had to- to find proof of Dumbledore's misdeeds toward Potter. She just had to turn the paragon of light, a muggle-born, and a Weasley onto a gray path.

Not as impossible as she'd initially thought. She just needed to figure out what sort of misdeeds Dumbledore had done to Potter, starting with this. Because there had to be a reason Dumbledore was keeping Lupin from Potter and it wasn't because the man was a werewolf.

Pansy squatted beside Ron and turned her eyes to Lupin's door. Ron shot her a displeased look, but it didn't have heart in it. "We're waiting for Lupin to leave, right? To see if the rumor was accurate?"

'Among other things,' Ron thought, "yeah."

"Good. Consider me involved." Pansy settled in a comfortable spot, felt her arm brush Ron's. This time she didn't pull away; physical contact was essential to begin cultivating trust.

Ron shot Pansy a look, feeling uncertain. He'd always been told by his siblings to trust Slytherin's only as far as you could throw them but then… Pansy had helped. She'd suspected just like he did that Dumbledore's intentions weren't all that black and white. That the man had entirely too much focus on Holly, and she didn't even know any of the stuff Ron did about Holly's guardians. But still… she was a Slytherin. It was different, her knowing to keep a secret and her being involved.

Ron wasn't entirely sure he wanted her involved at all, nor was he sure he had a choice. He'd learned from Hermione, Holly, and Ginny, that once girls had their minds set on something that very little would deter them. He was sure Pansy was the same-

"He's coming!" Pansy shoved a hand on the top of his head, and she pushed him down and back. She shoved him out of sight and joined him around a corner before peaking out carefully toward Lupin's door. Pansy ended up above him, hands on his head, as she leaned over his form to stare the door down. Ron balanced narrowly with his hands on his knees, and Pansy pressed into his back as he too looked at the Defense classroom. Together they watched in absolute silence as Lupin stepped out meekly. Behind him, a suitcase was dragged, and Ron felt his heart sink as Lupin glanced around the area.

As Holly requested, he carefully observed Lupin's eyes, and nothing was different - they were a chocolate brown as always. Somehow Ron knew Holly would be upset when he told her that, but he had no idea why.

"So, it's true," Pansy whispered as the man turned his back to them and shuffled off. "He really did get sacked… bugger, we didn't even reach exams yet." She lifted her wand as she said this and flicked the end in a counter-clockwise swirl. Under her breath she cast a spell, and Ron watched a light of lilac shoot off and strike Lupin's suitcase straight on before disappearing.

"What was that?" he asked, shoving her off him as Lupin rounded the corner and vanished.

Pansy brushed off her front unbothered by the removal, "tracking charm, a rather simple one that my mother taught me."

"Why would you need that?" Ron's brows pinched, and Pansy scowled at him.

"The unfortunate benefit of being female. Look, sometimes we need to know if someones following us and that spell helps." Ron was still clueless, and Pansy dismissed it; none of the Slytherin boys understood either, though the girls all did. "Anyway, the spell will let me know where his suitcase is. I assume you'll have such need for that information moving forward?" Gryffindor's really didn't plan ahead, the man was close to Potter and being kicked out. Obviously, they'd need to locate him again. The tracking charm would help if owls didn't reach the man as Pansy suspected they wouldn't. You needed a proper address for that after all. Owls weren't all-knowing unless they were a familiar.

Ron tilted his head, still confused before he shook it out, "so you know where Lupin will be?"

"his suitcase at least," she corrected. It was much easier to track an item on hand than have the spell land physically on the person. It would be noticed, especially by a werewolf. "But yes."

"Right…" he wasn't if that was a good thing or not, he hoped he wouldn't have to go to Pansy for that information. Just as he wasn't sure he wanted her involved or not. He still wasn't even if she'd made herself so. And as a result, a slightly awkward silence fell over them. Ron stared everywhere but her while Pansy realized she'd overstayed her welcome. If she wanted to turn Weasley, she'd have to do it slowly. Nothing was gained by rushing after all, her aunt had always told her that.

"Right well, I'm off to let people know and study," she sighed, "once again, we'll be doing exams without our professor, joy" Pansy turned on her heel and without so much as a goodbye marched away. She did her best not to glance back, she really did.

"Bye, Parkinson."

And felt her cheeks heat, did she respond? Did she? Bugger- "bye Weasley, till next 'skulk.'" She rounded a corner, hearing Ron's surprised laugh following after her and felt her cheeks heat more.

Oh yes, she was in danger.

Whispering around him, just whispers but it made his brain pound. Shanks internally swore, exhaled, and went to move his hand. He was suffering the hang-over from hell and wanted the voices to shut the fuck up. But when Shanks went to shift his hand and found it came up short. He reached a point, and something wrenched at his wrist, stopping him cold.

Shanks' eyes snapped open, and he instantly regretted it. He swore loudly. Shanks clamped his eyes shut to drown out the light trying to kill him, then tried to reach up to cradle his head, but once more, he couldn't get his arms to move. They were pinned by… something.

"Shanks!" Buggy's urgent voice sounded somewhere from his left, and Shanks's fingers twisted to discover what was blocking him. One of his fingers was catching the hint of metal. This seemed important, but his hazy mind was having trouble understanding why. "Shanks, listen to me, you need to be quiet."

"The hell- why?" he tried to crack his eye open again and managed it slightly. It hurt, but he managed. He regretted doing that as much as trying to open them at all.

He was surrounded by men and women; they were crowded brutally in a tiny wooden hold with a barred door. Shanks could barely move without touching someone, and in fact, he was mostly pressed into Buggy on his left, while on his right was a large teen with a pointed nose and a missing tooth who glared his way when Shanks so much as glanced at him. Waking up pressed against Buggy was horrifying enough of a thought, though Shanks doubted he could ever be that drunk. The truth was, however, far worse. Because every person he could see had the same accessories. A collar around their neck, shackles at their wrists and ankles. All metal that led to chains that bolted into metal pegs behind each person.

The connection was there. It was there, but Shanks didn't dare make it.

"Shanks." Buggy's face swam in his vision as he managed to finally crack his eyes entirely open. He was not thinking about what was happening. Not thinking about it. "You have to be quiet-"

"Why." He demanded again, not quietly at all. Buggy had a black eye, a purple bruise covering his face's right side, and his lip was split open. It looked painful… and Shanks was reasonably sure he hadn't had that mark when they'd been- nope, not yet, not ready for that thought yet.

"Can you hear me? I can sense you're awake."

What…? Shanks' mind tried to translate his soulmates' words in his head but found it challenging. Everything was. Thinking was plain painful, gods, how hard had they hit him? He knew there wasn't actually a tune to go with the words which was bizarre, that hadn't happened before… had he been drugged?

"Shanks… look at me." He tried, he honestly did, but Buggy was really fuzzy, and Shanks found he couldn't focus. "You have a concussion."

"Makes sense," he slurred, "you're… really fuzzy… why are we being quiet- muph-" Buggy covered Shanks' mouth to shut him up. Easier than just telling him, except not. Shanks wrenched away from Buggy's hands, flailed when he moved too fast, and the world spun until he slammed into the brutish teen on his right. The teen sneered, and Shanks mocked right on back. 'Try me,' Shanks expression said because he was very much done with this situation. He wanted a drink, his bed, and… to calm down his soulmate. She sounded a bit panicked.

Everything was fine, though. It was fine. Shanks had control here.

The teen slammed his shoulder into Shanks, and he cried out, swearing loudly at the sudden unexpected pain that rushed him. Buggy rushed to cover his mouth to silence the noise, but Shanks hardly noticed. Son of a bitch, his shoulder was not meant to go in that direction, right? "His shoulder is dislocated, you bitch!" Buggy was whispering angrily, "if you want me to keep him quiet maybe don't-"

"The moron will get us all killed, too rebellious this one. Better to get rid of him now."

"-maybe you can't hear me. Is it different if I sing: Yo ho ho ho dammit!" His soulmates face snapped-sang in his head, and Shanks hissed, she was really freaking out, she never swore.

"Yo ho ho ho." He managed to get out before he turned toward the bitch to his right, "you're going to regret that."

The teen scoffed: "No, red-hair," the man returned casually, "I really won't.

What did he mean by that? Shanks shot the teen a dark look even as his brain slowly took in the situation despite Shanks desperately wanting to remain ignorant. The nameless fool was also wearing a collar, and his arms were chained to a peg behind him. A bolt with multiple sets of chains attached and some of it was moving toward him and nope- not thinking about that. Instead, he just glared at the fool even with his soulmate singing rather proper songs in his head. How she was finding some with the exact words needed to ask him precisely what she wanted was currently a mystery. It was almost like she was just singing her questions, which was impossible.

"Won't you?" Shanks dared, eying the distance between them almost bored. It would be a minor thing to reach out and tackle the moron, and if pushed far enough, Shanks would do it. Then again, Rouge always did tell him to think carefully about what sort of fights he started. She cautioned firmly that they should always be prepared to win any battle they started. Of course, she typically said that while pounding a man into the ground for something as simple as insulting her hair color. Between the two of them, Roger was the more difficult half to be pressed into an actual fight. Shanks did try to follow their example… he tried anyway. "Because as far as I can see, I can kick your ass three times to the Red-line even with a dislocated shoulder." He didn't bother to lower his voice like the teen had, and that was his first mistake.

The teen, in response to that, only smiled even as Buggy winced. Collectively the other people around them cowed back, they knew something, all of them did, that Shanks didn't. He learned what was causing the event a mere moment later though. The door across from them suddenly slammed open, and just about everyone jumped. People flinched back as Shanks turned toward the new threat. This one, at a glimpse, was far more dangerous.

The man that stood in the doorway scanned the room slowly. In his hand was a set of keys, reckless that Shanks internally thought. It wouldn't be overly tricky to snatch them and break out; the only issue would be his chained hands and the sheer amount of muscle the man had. He was… built. Physically powerful, and he radiated confidence. Shanks still thought he could take the man.

"Which one of you was it."

Buggy's hands clenched on Shanks' good arm, hopeful that maybe that no one would say, a fool's hope. One always looked out for themselves on the sea. For, all at once, fingers pointed his way. They and the teen at his side gave Shanks up in an instant, and Shanks braced himself. He shrugged off Buggy's arm, distanced them because to grab those damned keys, he'd need some manner of distance despite being chained. At the same time, Shanks quickly tested his field of range with the chains, he didn't have much, he'd have to get the fool down to Shanks level. He'd knock out the knees first, then use the chains to hopefully choke the fool out, followed by grabbing the keys and escape in that order.

He could do it.

Shanks shifted his body pushing up so he was perched on the balls of his feet while the slaver- damn, he'd finally acknowledged it - narrowed his eyes. Then he smirked and slowly approached. The slaves, they parted like the clouds itself when Roger had dueled Newgate. They skirted back as quickly as they could. At his side, Buggy shot a panicked look between him and the slaver, near inaudible noises or distress escaping his lips. The teen on the opposite side was smug, and Shanks smothered his irritation over it.

"Come on, hear me please. Tell me whats happening prove that Moon- was right."

He didn't have a song for her, he couldn't think of a single word as the slaver approached, so he sang randomly. "Can you hear me, S.O.S," it was a song he was rather sure he'd heard Rayleigh sing or perhaps it was someone else. Regardless it served his purpose as the slaver stopped close by but out of damned range. Shanks didn't have the range to grab the keys where he was, and kicking out was equally pointless due to the shackles Shanks had only just noticed at his ankles. He needed the man closer.

"What's up, ugly." Shanks randomly taunted as Buggy's face lost all color, except for the red of his nose that was.

"You're alive, but what are you responding too?" His attention split slightly at that because that was once again all words, but no, he had to focus. And it was great timing on his part too, for the man suddenly surged forward. Instantly Shanks kicked out as the distance close, his heel cracked against the man's knee, and he dropped. Shanks reached out like a chained beast clawing at whatever skin he could reach. It wasn't pretty, but he was a damned pirate; Shanks had no intention of fighting pretty, that was for Marines. It was a mad scramble on Shanks' part, but for the slaver it was subduing a fighter something he regularly did, and the man knew to fight dirty to a degree Shanks didn't.

The hand that slammed down on Shanks' dislocated shoulder was the only part of the reason why Shanks cried out. One injury and a blow he hadn't been expecting. Shanks paused for only the slightest moment, allowed himself to feel the pain for the briefest second because it was his body's natural instinct to do. Then a hand grabbed his face and brutally applied pressure. In an instant, Shanks' head was cracked into the floor on the room, and the entire world went spinning out of control. For a moment, everything went utterly black, yet he remained conscious as his vision rebooted itself.

He felt his arms being moved, felt his shoulder wrenched on, and heard the trickle of chains as they were repositioned and pulled from the wall. Then, the shackles attached to his wrists and ankles were yanked upward. They dragged his sluggish body forward. It tripped him up, and Shanks landed hard on his still dislocated arm. He cried out in pain, but the slaver gave him no time to recover. One step at a time, Shanks was dragged from the room as he desperately tried to catch up. Shanks tried to get his hands and feet under him to stand. But every person he was pulled over or past sent him sprawling once more.

Shanks was dragged out, and the last thing he saw of the room was Buggy's terrified and guilty eyes, and the teens smug fingers waggling in Shanks' direction.

"Pirate, soulmate mine? I have lack of words… this is harder than it seems."

Fuck this. Shanks twisted. He forced his legs under him by sheer force of will and stepped up. He moved so quickly that his head cracked into the chin of the Slaver, it sent his world spinning again. The Slaver staggered and gave a bit off swear when Shanks' head connected into his own. But Shanks was truly the one who suffered from the crazy attack. Because the Slaver did not have a concussion, and Shanks did.

Shanks worked to shake out the fuzz from his head, but by the time the ringing had stopped, he was halfway up a set of stairs. The Slaver didn't give him a chance to recover appropriately. Not as the man dragged him to the side when Shanks finally got onto his hands and knees just so his injured shoulder collided into the nearby wood doorway. Shanks clamped his teeth and locked his jaw as he was thrown brutally into the wall. Shanks refused to scream again. Even when the chains at his hands and, by extension, his arm was wrenched on for daring to slow. The bastard was definitely doing that on purpose.

One step at a time, Shanks finally gave in to the truth; he was going to be tortured. There was no way to deny the fact. There was only one reason, perhaps two, that a slaver would be removing him from the rest of the slaves. The end of this path was death, a buyer, or a whip, and if Shanks thought about that, he'd give in to the fear, and he couldn't do that. Because Roger would find them, he'd save them, Shanks just had to wait it out or find a way to escape. And he would. He would not become a slave, Roger wouldn't allow it. But torture… this he wasn't getting out of.

"I'm here, I'm here and I… I'm scared for you." His soulmates voice echoed in his head, without tune or rhythm, she'd just randomly sang words, and he'd… he heard it.

Shanks missed a step,, he tripped on a stair and slammed his shin into the wood; without the use of his hands, Shanks could not stop himself from completely falling, and the slaver didn't bother to assist. Shanks' chin cracked against the flooring, and the world spun as he choked on the pain. He wasn't given the time to adjust either, not as he was wrenched back onto his feet by his hair, and Shanks swore. He scrambled to get his feet under him lest he be thrown down the stairs or worse. The mad scramble made the bastard slaver grin as if he were getting off on this, and Shanks swore that when he got the chance, the bastard would die by his hands.

Dragged forward again, Shanks turned his mind back to his soulmate and the lack of song to her words. She'd sung words to him in actual words. It had been a sentence and not a song, a sentence in a singing voice instead of a song using convenient lyrics, and Shanks couldn't wrap his head around it. People couldn't do that. You couldn't just sing random words, you needed a song.

Didn't you?

He… he'd never tried, and he'd never asked if anyone else could do it. Was it possible they'd just missed it? That the language barrier had caused them to miss it?

"Perhaps I was wrong… maybe he can't hear me… one more try, then… I'll know for sure. Can you hear me?~"

Fuck, how long had she been doing that? Since he'd awoken, he'd realized, but he hadn't noticed because of the situation. Hell, it was worth the pain, it had to be worth the pain. Because if he was right then- then they could actually talk.

"I can hear you,"

"What was that?" They reached a new room, and Shanks blanched as he caught the scent of it. As he saw a single metal peg in the middle of the room, he saw the red-stained look on the wood on the room and the tools hanging off a nearby wall. Shanks took one look at the wall and caught sight of a single terrifying instrument.

He wasn't a fool, he'd seen the darkness in the world. He'd wandered the trees of the Sabaody Archipelago, he'd seen the slaves that Roger had happily released. He'd seen those same people with their tongues cut straight out of their mounts. He'd made the connection, that most slaves simply obeyed because one of the punishments for defiance in a slave, especially one owned by a celestial dragon was… was for their tongues to be-

"Did you just sing," The slaver sneered down at Shanks, and Shanks stared right back. He didn't open his mouth, didn't respond, he stared down the man rebelliously. He stared because if he opened his mouth, he'd vomit, and Shanks, by extension, would give the man access to his mouth. "Scared now, aren't ya, boy. Where's that fight gone?"

The man turned away, and Shanks felt the tiniest measure of relief, a brief moment, a split second. And then the slaver was wrenching Shanks forward, dragging him into the center of the room. Shanks was chained to that single pole, given a minuscule range of motion. He was shoved to the ground, forced on his hands and knees like an animal, and quickly found he was unable to rise. Shanks struggled, fought it, and earned a blow to the head that caused him to see stars. One more like that, and he was definitely going to be knocked unconscious, he could already feel it edging at him.

"What's happening? Are you alright?" He kept his eyes forcefully closed until the world stopped spinning. Then, in the briefest whisper, Shanks sang three single words, the only ones he'd dare until he out of this man's company.

"Distract me, love."

Then Shanks forced himself up as high as the chains would allow and stared down a slaver set to torture him.

"Rebellious kid… we had a request for a kid like you. The bubbled head dick gets a kick out of breaking his slaves, has a thing for… striking hair colors." The man smiled with missing teeth, "I'll probably earn a fortune for you and your blue-haired friend." His fingers grazed across the items along the wall, all various with their use clear from the blood coating them. His hands lingered over a device that looked like a Rouge's lash curlers - and Shanks was not going to get into why he recognized it - but this item wasn't for hair it was for-… to hold a tongue, to keep it outside the mouth so someone could cut- "So that means I'm not allowed to break you, bad for business you see? Good for you song-bird. But… I am allowed to have a little fun." The man removed his hand from the device, and Shanks dared to take a breath in relief- and a boot sank into his diaphragm.

Shanks choked, his lungs spasmed violently, and he quickly learned there were other ways to stop someone from singing. Because all you truly needed to do was stop someone from breathing. And he couldn't- he couldn't breathe-

"-I should mention you'll be losing that pretty tongue of yours anyway, because my buyer… he's a dragon, and no one fucks with them. So abandon all thoughts of rescue kid." The man laughed, he kept saying more, but Shanks wasn't hearing him. His mind had frozen, his entire body had seized up, and he still couldn't catch a single breath. He was going to lose his tongue- Shanks stared at the ground, unaware of the eyes carefully observing him and his reaction, watching and judging how rebellious he was. His thoughts spiraled in terror- and then her voice filtered through.

"Lov- no err… distract?~ Alright… song song, I need a song- oh! I've got one. 'In the morning when I wake, and the sun is coming through,'"

No. Shanks straightened his body and bared his teeth at the slaver.

No, Roger would come, and if Roger didn't, then Shanks would get out himself. He'd survive this tongue intact, or he'd die with a song of apology on his lips.

The slaver's expression gave nothing away before he hummed, "resilient one, no matter. There's more than one to ensure you stay put." The man didn't bother with a device this time, he circled Shanks and planted his boot in Shanks' back, the man's entire weight dropped onto Shanks at an awkward angle. Shanks still tried to remain up, but eventually, he was forced down. His face was shoved into the bloodied wood of the ship, and the slaver snatched hold of Shanks' knee.

"Can't run without a leg, now can you?"

"Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness, and you fill my head with you."

Shanks braced himself, he was no fool, he knew exactly what was going to happen. He focused exclusively on his soulmate while distantly aware that a broken leg would make escape… slightly more complicated- the man wrenched, and Shanks screamed.

But that was only the beginning. So Shanks lost himself, he fell into her voice. She pulled his conscious mind to him, and Shanks lost himself to his soulmate. He focused exclusively on the rise and fall of her tone, as he imagined the beat and the music that would go along with it. Water- he couldn't breathe- agony- and tried to figure out the chorus so he could sing it in return to her. Tried to memorize the lyrics because it was a sweet song, especially as he translated her words- a scream.

It was just her and him, a pirate and a witch, and nothing else matters.

"Can I be close to you?"

Shanks was dropped to the ground, tossed to the floor beside Buggy without care. Buggy watched it happen and dared not do anything to stop it, dared not break Shanks' fall. He didn't dare even look at the man who had tortured his only friend. All he could do was sit there as Shanks' was chained up once more, thankfully beside him. Buggy sat there as the man eyed him as if to repeat the event for Buggy instead. Sat there as the man decided against it and finally left the room.

The moment the door closed, nothing stopped Buggy from acting though. He might be a coward who let his best friend be taken but- but Shanks was hurt, and his only friend needed him.

"Best leave him; they see you try to help, and you'll suffer his fate." The man on the other side of Shanks said it, Buggy hadn't gotten his name before Shanks woke up. He was a recent capture just like Buggy and Shanks. He was also protective of his own life and had cautioned Buggy to do the same. Buggy had taken the man's advice to heart, to be quiet to not drag attention. To keep Shanks quiet by extension… if only he'd succeeded, then Shanks' would be-

"Shut up," Buggy grunted, he was a damned pirate, and Shanks was Nakama; he was going to help and damn the consequences. Or damn most of them at least.

Reaching as far as he could, he rolled Shanks looking for damage. Still, beyond the obviously broken leg, he physically looked… fine? Buggy took a closer look, no, there were strange markings around Shanks' neck, and Buggy rolled his friend to get a better look. As he did, Shanks gave a pained wheeze and flinched, and Buggy winced. He'd hoped his friend was unconscious, but it seemed Shanks' wasn't that lucky.

"fu-dislocated… -idiot…" Shanks slurred his words at Buggy, and the teen went a bit wide-eyed at that. He'd forgotten that Shanks dislocated his shoulder, and he'd moved him despite that, no wonder the other teen had flinched. That and… Shanks sounded horrible. Like he'd been screaming non-stop for days, he sounded like gravel mixed with glass, and from the expression on Shanks' face, it felt exactly like that to talk.

"What happened?" Buggy asked, fearfully staring at the mess at Shanks' throat. But it wasn't Shanks the answered.

"Best let the boy stay silent," it was a woman nearby, and she glanced away from her own chains to look at them, "the slavers don't mess with the body, they want to make a profit… but the voice, aye, that's a good way to ensure compliance."

"But- what did they do."

"You don't want to know boy, you'll not get sleep if you did... because after all, one wrong move and it'll be you."

Buggy moved to protest when Shanks shifted at his side. Despite the broken leg and dislocated arm, Shanks pulled himself off the floor until his back was pressed flush with the wall. There, he crossed his arms carefully and tucked himself in close. Shanks focused on his breathing, just taking in one breath without something stopping it halfway. Each one he claimed burned like glass poured down his throat or more accurately boiling water, among other things. Shanks hissed out a breath as the other slaves slowly lost interest in him, all except for Buggy, who was staring him down and the large one to his other side.

"Shoot, one second!"

His lips quirked despite everything, there it was then. They could communicate, he could sing directly to her and vice-versa and be understood. This was fantastic, she'd be able to give him her location, and they could finally meet. He could head right for her the moment he'd escaped this place.

"S'fine-" he grit his teeth. Even that one word, he couldn't manage, worse yet a half syllable didn't seem to work when communicating with her.

"Shanks?" Buggy whispered, thinking Shanks had been attempting to speak to him. "Are you alright?"

"Did…" Shanks lowered his voice drastically, testing it- but no, he couldn't get a word out. Swearing internally, Shanks traced out words on the floor instead. Carefully he wrote on the wood, Buggy watched his fingers move and sounded the words out slowly. Shanks did have to correct occasionally, but the message was generally put across.

"' Can your… soulmate… sing at you?'" Buggy read softly, "-of course, she can moron."

Shanks swiftly shook his head and instantly regretted it as it jarred his shoulder. Quickly he altered his sentence. "' No, she can-' your printing sucks Shanks - 'sing at me, without a song.'" Buggy looked up, "what nonsense are you talking about now?" Shanks jabbed the floor and added, as Buggy read out, "' can your soulmate do that?' mine?"

"Mine?" Buggy instantly flinched back. At that moment, he thought of the woman who'd enticed him off the road, the excitable girl with black curls and large blue-bell eyes. She'd smiled so kindly, so happily at him. She'd bounced in place when she'd spotted him in the street. Hopped toward him when she'd caught him singing and had rushed to say she'd heard him in her head. He'd been excited, beyond excited because he'd found her, thinking he'd actually found his before the obsessed Shanks had. Before Shanks, who couldn't shut up about his quiet little song-bird. Before Shanks, who was now fluent in a completely different language that only Roger and his odd soulmate understood.

He'd always dreamed of the woman who would be his. Picturing a gorgeous woman who loved him, who would never comment on his nose, who'd find it attractive even. A woman who'd accompany him on his pirate journeys and maybe had a circus-style ability or two. They'd want for nothing, find themselves endlessly wealthy. Who would be exactly his type and that girl had fit, she'd fit… so he'd followed her and look where it got him.

Buggy, with hurt feelings, deflected: "never mind that, what I want to know is why you were caught by that bitch too." Shanks frowned, brows pinching together. He glanced at Buggy, twisting his body so he could manage it without touching his back to his friend. "And here I thought you were all obsessed with your soulmate, and yet you got tricked by the same thing. Like a damned puppy, allowing some random girl to convince you she was yours. I guess you didn't know your girl that well now did you." Buggy might have been projecting out of guilt, might have been desperately trying to avoid thinking about his own soulmate, which he'd betrayed in his mistake.

Shanks' brow arched, hearing, despite his words, what Buggy wasn't saying. Shanks felt the hurt Buggy was feeling. He knew that Buggy was likely hoping that Shanks, for all that he spent years having his soulmate never sing, had an equally terrible connection with his soulmate. He didn't though, and Shanks refused to pretend.

Shanks slapped the floor firmly and wrote faster than before: '"My girl has green eyes, not blue. And besides, I didn't go with her, I saw her with you and followed.'"

Buggy's whole body twitched, he shot a wide-eyed look at Shanks. No. No, wait a moment, he wasn't saying that-

"' I caught up when they knocked you out and tried to save you. One of them pulled a knife on you, so I surrendered.'"

-saying that Shanks was captured because of Buggy. That all of this was his fault? That once again, everything was his fault. Buggy sneered and wrenched himself away from Shanks' form. "You should have just left me." He snapped and turned his back to Shanks. He ignored his former friend as Shanks nudged at him, trying to ask his questions again. Ignored him, because Shanks couldn't currently speak and Buggy found it far easier to ignore the other teen that way. He kept his back to Shanks until his friend gave up. Hoped Shanks didn't notice as Buggy reached up to brush the scratches along his neck that very well could have been lethal if not for- he looked away from Shanks, so his best friend didn't see the blatant guilt spread across his face.

Shanks staring at Buggy's back furrowed his brows before temporarily giving up. He was too exhausted to push. He knew what Buggy was like when he decided to be stubborn. If he wanted Buggy to abandon his 'ignoring you' phase, then Shanks would have to badger Buggy for a long time with very loud words. A volume Shanks couldn't manage at the moment. So dropping it for the moment, Shanks allowed himself to lay back in his best attempt at getting comfortable. It was awkward, the chains didn't give much room to shift, and his injuries gave even less. Not to mention he couldn't touch Buggy or the other teen less they retaliate, which he was sure they would.

Truthfully, Shanks dearly wanted to rest. But… he had noticed the rest of the slaves. Most of them weren't asleep despite the hour. Nearly all of them seemed to be putting in every effort not to fall asleep in fact, and those that were sleeping were the ones that looked new, like him and Buggy. That Shanks thought was incredibly suspicious, and he worried why that was the case.

"Sorry, Pomfrey was checking on me and I'm really technically supposed to be sleeping."

Her voice filtered in once more tinged in exhaustion, as she steadily sang nonsense. Shanks' soulmate spoke of lessons, of a school of potions, charms, and flying. They were all subjects Shanks mentally recognized as magical in the stories he'd read about witches. She had sung about witches before so he wasn't surprised to have her topics match. He'd ask later for more detail, of course, but for now, the topic was a comfortable one. He was also grateful that she kept singing, that she didn't stop when he stayed silent for too long. She'd heard his request to distract him, and she was.

Shanks dropped his head between his knees and took a slow, focused breath. Took in air through the pain in his throat as the ground beneath him swayed back and forth in a familiar way. Another thing Shanks didn't want to acknowledge because that swaying meant he was on a ship. If they were on board a vessel, then any escape plan grew a hundred times more complicated. Shanks was too exhausted to even begin to think about that. Instead, Shanks focused on her once more.

A world away Holly unclenched her hands from her blankets. She'd been singing non-stop since his request, and he hadn't responded. It meant she had no idea what was wrong with him, but whatever it was was terrible. Because nothing had ever stopped him from singing, not until that moment. That and… the few words he had gotten across carried blatant pain. Holly couldn't ignore the shake in his tone as he said such few words to her.

Exhaling lightly, Holly glanced at Padfoot, her god-father dog who was seemingly napping. Then she gently began to sing, quiet to conserve her voice, but loud enough that he'd hear it and focus on it and away from whatever was plaguing him. "Anyway, that's are my lessons… and… topic, topic, oh! I discovered today that I have family that truly want me." She took a breath finding it difficult to just sing the words. Her voice kept wanting to return to a proper speaking tone, and finding the tempo of her words was a challenge. Still, he was hearing her. He was. So she did her best to find a balance. "I have god-parents, two people who knew my parents, and they both actually want me... mostly" Her hands wrung, Padfoot hadn't reacted so he must truly be sleeping. She'd have to have a conversation with him soon too.

"One… he has a split personality and only one half of him… wants me." At least she hoped he did; by this point, the idea was a bit more up in the air than she'd like.

Shanks' head drooped, his eyes fluttered as sleep encroached on him. He hadn't thought it was possible, but he might actually sleep and… and it was a mistake. He knew in the back of his mind that he absolutely had to stay away, but everything- everything hurt far too much. He dearly wanted to rest, and his witch was soothing. Shanks was fighting a losing battle though, and steadily, slowly, sleep claimed him.

"-He's a werewolf, half wolf-half man." Which was something Shanks never had in his life heard of, but he accepted this as truth regardless. It was likely something from her island or a devil-fruit user. "His human side doesn't want me, but his wolf half considers me pack. The other one though… that's a bit complicated actually." Holly sang perched on her bed. Padfoot was thankfully still asleep, so she felt secure in explaining the story she'd gotten, "my parents died when I was one year old." She started slowly, speaking of the secret keeper that she'd been told about earlier. Then explained how everyone thought it was another man who betrayed her parents. Which, in reality, seemed to be another. Which meant her god-father had been falsely imprisoned and that now that he was free, he'd likely want to be involved in her life. In any way she offered.

Shanks wished he could offer comfort or ask questions as she spoke, he was madly curious about the story she was telling him. But as he was brutally reminded when Shanks tried, his throat was not up to singing. Not beyond one or maybe two choice words if he rested. Instead, Shanks focused on her story, but it wasn't long before he was having trouble listening to it. The pain in his body was not going away, it was becoming worse, and the need to sleep was only growing. While he wanted to refuse to do the latter, Shanks knew eventually that he'd just pass out entirely even if he didn't want to surrender himself to unconsciousness.

"Are you alright?" Holly sang after her soulmate when she couldn't bear the silence any longer, she was worried about him and couldn't help it. He seemed to sense it in her tone too, for he offered her a single word answer to tell her he was still there, that he was still alive.

"Tired." Shanks managed and grit his teeth against the brutal stabbing pain that followed the attempt. Then he added plaintively "hurts…" it was more a whisper than anything else, and it didn't pass over.

Holly exhaled in relief when she heard it. He was alive, in obvious pain, but he was alive. Even aware that she'd know if he died, the single words were a comfort. "I'm here… I'm not leaving, okay? I'm still here." She'd be there; it was the least she could do while he was hurting. Still, even as she said that she felt their connection shift. It wasn't an abrupt thing like what had occurred when she theorized he'd been knocked out, but a gradual one.

Holly allowed her voice to soften as she felt it, the steady lull of their connection. He was falling asleep, and she had no idea if she ought to scream-sing to stop it. But then… he had said he was tired? So was it better if he did sleep like she really should? Holly didn't know, but her inactivity made her choice for it. Within seconds he had drifted completely, Holly felt it happen. Then, and only then did Holly allow herself to fall completely silent herself. Perhaps it was time she tried to sleep as well, no matter how little she actually wanted to.

"Stay safe." Holly sang softly before lowering herself into her blankets and closing her sore eyes. She, like her soulmate, was out in mere moments. Fast asleep when Shanks, on the other side of her soul, was brutally awakened with the other slaves after a mere hour of shaky rest. It was, Shanks decided later, for the best that she went unaware of it. Because he was no longer sure if his screams would or would not pass to her, and he preferred that they didn't.