VII: True Trans Soul Rebel

Three weeks later, I'm glaring at myself in my apartment's mirror. Annabeth is trying to make me feel better

"You look great," she says. "First hot day of the year! This is gonna be fun."

"The hotter it is, the less I can hide my nightmare body with layers of clothes," I grumble. I dab at my lipstick again, hoping that if I did that enough I might magically transform into a dolphin, or maybe a flock of seagulls.

"I happen to be a pretty big fan of your nightmare body, princess," she says, hand on the small of my back. My heart pounds, both from the touch and at the sound of princess. That's one of the new things that she calls me. Even though I insist that I hate it, she knows that's a lie.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Of course! Speaking of your body, are you, erm, still sore?"

My left eye twitches and my hands automatically go the spots on my chest that have been causing me pain for a week. "Yeah. I don't think that's going away soon."

I toss my napkin away, submitting to my fate. It's a freakishly hot eighty degrees in mid-April, so I can only conclude that the gods are directly messing with me. The denim shorts Annabeth picked out are shorter than anything I've worn in my life, and my body is not ready for them yet. I feel a bit better about the blue top I'm wearing, which Annabeth insisted would go well with my eyes.

"My whole body sucks," I complain. "I look like a painting from that one Spanish guy, the guy who painted a bunch of rectangles."

She blinks. "Do you mean Picasso?"

"Yeah, him. I look like one of his idiot rectangle people."

I've come a long way in the past two months, but the gender dysphoria has stayed pretty intense. Melissa and I talked about it a lot, and she assured me that it was normal. It's called 'transitioning' because it's a process, she said. You need to be in it for the long haul. Obviously, three weeks of hormones weren't going to solve all my problems. So far, the hormones have only made my nipples sore.

Annabeth rolls her eyes. "You're not an idiot rectangle person. You're not rectangular at all!"

"You're so good at making me feel better."

When Annabeth convinced me to go to the April reunion of the Seven, she told me they wanted to hold it in New York for a change. I know they're doing it to welcome me back to the fold and make me feel comfortable, but I really don't want to be the center of attention. Given how different things are now, I know it's inevitable.

And I do look different. Mom took me to get my ears pierced last week, and Annabeth had helped me figure out how to paint my nails, which were currently black (Thalia would be so proud). Combine that with the (extremely subtle, thankfully) teal highlights in my hair and I really do look like a different person. I'm worried they're going to treat me like either a stranger or a circus attraction.

The daughter of Athena seemingly reads my mind. "It'll be fine. I'll run interference if you need me to."

"Promise?" I ask her, pouting a bit.

She rolls her eyes and gives me a quick kiss. I've only recently discovered pouting, but it usually ends in her exasperatedly kissing me. "C'mon, let's get moving."

On the way out the door, Mom stops us. "Heading out?" she asks.

I nod, trying to smile for her. "We might stay over there, might not. We'll see how it goes."

"Okay," she says, looking nervous. Ever since I got back, she's seemed convinced that I'll up-and-leave again.

"It's alright, Ms. Jackson. I'll keep her safe."

"She'd be lost without you, Annabeth, so you better keep an eye on her."

Mom kisses me on the cheek, which makes Annabeth giggle. "You look amazing, honey," she says.

I shift my weight. Like I said, I'm still trying to figure out this whole compliments thing. "Thanks, Mom. Love you."

"How did Tristan end up with a loft in Park Slope, anyway?"

Annabeth shrugs as I ring the bell. "He's rich and famous? I guess if you're rich and famous, you have a loft in Park Slope. That way your daughter can throw parties in it with her demigod friends."

Piper opens the door and smiles wide. "I'm so glad you came!" she cries, crushing me in a hug.

I blink the tears out of my eyes (it's only been three weeks, so my therapist would say it's too early for the crying to be estrogen-induced, but I'm still blaming the hormones). "I'm happy to see you too."

"Look at you! You're practically glowing!"

"What am I, chopped liver?" Annabeth asks jokingly.

Piper rolls her eyes and hugs her too. "Oh, shut up."

We head in through the door, and I immediately freeze up when I see at least eight people in the den. That's more than I bargained for. I share a glance with Annabeth, who rolls her eyes. "You and I literally went to hell and back, and you're nervous about seeing your friends?" Her hand finds mine and she kisses me on the cheek. "Come on. It's fine."

I nervously inch into the loft, and everyone looks at me. I set a straight face and put one foot in front of the other, keeping my eyes on the floor.

"Hey, guys," Annabeth says. "Hope we're not late."

Eyes are on me. I do a quick mental inventory of who's here: I see the rest of the Seven, plus Nico, Will, Reyna, and . . .

"Zoe Jackson, if you ever disappear on us like that again, I am strangling you," Thalia says. She's wearing a ratty band t-shirt, probably looking about as casual as the lieutenant of Artemis can.

"Seconded," Nico says, shaking his head. "You know how long I waited around for you in Rosario Beach?"

Jason is the next to admonish me. "Don't ever do that again, seriously."

I hold up my hands in surrender. "I'm sorry! This is my official apology. I don't plan on vanishing again."

The eyes are still on me. I'm about to say more when Piper clears her throat, interrupting. "Anyway! We're all here now. Glad we're a full crew again."

"Agreed," Hazel says, smiling. "That's all that matters."

After we ease into the swing of things, it all feels a bit more normal. I naturally hang on the edges of the party, and right now, I'm enjoying chips in the separate kitchen. I peer through the doorway; Annabeth, Piper, and Hazel are bunched up together, talking and laughing on the loveseat. The girls of the Argo II, which, after I think about it for a second, is a group that includes me. I'm about to head over when Reyna and Frank suddenly join me.

There's a joke I could write about this, something about two Roman military officers and a trans daughter of Poseidon walking into a bar. I'll workshop it.

"Zoe Jackson," Reyna says, stiffly, like words still don't really add up to her.

I try to smile. "Praetor."

"You're different," she says bluntly.

I glance at Frank, who shrugs in response. His look says: It's Reyna, what do you expect?

"I guess I am, yeah."

She nods. "This must not have been easy for you."

"Not particularly."

"You're doing well, I hope? Things have been improving?"

"I'm better than I've been in a long time."

Reyna gives me a small smile. "Good to hear. I admire your strength. Now, Piper said that she stocked up on pineapple soda, if you'll excuse me."

As the daughter of Bellona drifts off towards the fridge, Frank and I have an awkward moment. Something I'm still trying to figure out is handshake etiquette; am I supposed to shake men's hands now? Should I, like, curtsy, or something? Should I offer up my hand to Frank and have him kiss it like I'm some sort of medieval princess greeting a suitor?

We settle on a hug. "I miss you," Frank says.

"You too, buddy."

"I should've noticed you were distant, but . . ." He shakes his head, his eyes going to Reyna, hunched over the fridge.

"Praetor business?"

Frank nods. Annabeth told me a few weeks ago that I've gotten more serious since I came out, which, I don't know if I agree with her, but I know Frank has gotten more serious. Over a year now as praetor of the Twelfth Legion will probably do that. "Still, that's no excuse for being a bad friend."

"You weren't a bad friend. I was hiding. There's nothing more you could've done. And I'm okay now, so it doesn't matter."

Reyna withdraws from the fridge, handing Frank a guava soda. Were they co-praetors for long enough that they could telepathically communicate their soda preferences to each other? "Annabeth tells me you'll be joining her in New Rome in the fall for university."

Since we struck up our relationship again, she's finally convinced me to give college a shot. I was still undecided on my major and not exactly looking forward to classes, but I'll take any excuse to live near her again. I shift my weight and nod. "That's the plan, yeah."

"We wanted to extend our official invitation," Reyna says. "And our protection."

"You'll be in the city as an honored guest of the Twelfth Legion," Frank explains. "In addition to that, you know, you are a former member of the legion. A praetor, even!."

I run my hand along my SPQR tattoo. "I was praetor for maybe two entire hours."

"Still, I doubt you'll get any . . . I don't know. Trouble? When you arrive? On account of your new situation? On the off-chance you do, though, it'll be a serious insult to the Legion, so—"

"Call on us if anyone gives you grief," Reyna deadpans. "We'll set them straight."

I smile. "Thanks, guys."

"That includes me," comes the voice of Hazel, who enters the kitchen now. Surrounded by Romans. "I wanted to have a chat with Zoe, you guys, if that's okay?"

Frank kisses her on the cheek and smiles. "Sure thing."

Once the praetors are gone and the daughter of Pluto has a mandarin orange soda in hand (I'm learning so much about my friends' tastes tonight), Hazel turns to me. "I'm really proud of you."

I blush a little. She was supposed to be the pseudo-little sister in this relationship, not me. "Thanks."

"I'm glad . . ." She waves her hands, trying to find the words. "I'm glad you're still here with us. I wanted to update you on what I've figured out with the Mist."

I nod, mouth feeling dry.

"I wish I had better news," she says, looking pained. "I really tried to figure out a solution that would be more permanent."

"The Mist would only work temporarily?" I guess. "There's no workaround?"

She presses her lips together and nods. "I tried Mist-ing myself to look like Nico, just to see how it would go—"

"Gods, I'm sure he was thrilled about that!"

"—and I could maintain it for short bursts, maybe an hour at a time, before I started feeling weak. If you became a master manipulator of the Mist all of a sudden—"

"No chance of that happening."

"Well, still, if you did, you might not even be able to maintain it on yourself." She shakes her head, looking dejected. "I'm sorry, I really tried."

"It's completely fine," I assure her. "I don't know if I'd do it, even if I had the chance."

Magic's useful, but I decided about a month ago that I wouldn't seek out a magical "solution" for myself. I did a lot of reading about hormones (well, I watched lots of YouTube videos, but still), and I was comfortable with them. It wouldn't be perfect, obviously. I couldn't do anything about my shoulders or my height, both of which bothered me, but Annabeth assured me that she loved my entire body, so I decided to trust her judgment.

Hazel nods, now smiling ear-to-ear. "You look great, so I hoped not."

Jason is the next to corner me, and honestly, I haven't been looking forward to it.

"Hey," I try and say casually, but he's clearly not here to chat.

"Piper was a wreck when you disappeared. She assumed the worst. I assumed the worst." He shakes his head, glaring at me. "After the way we lost Leo? Your vanishing act was awful."

"I already said it won't happen again!"

"Better not." He takes a step back and looks me over. "You're intact," he points out.

"As far as I know, yeah."

"And, you know. Everything's good? With everything? Like, you and Annabeth, you're still . . . ?"

I clear my throat. "Yeah, uh. So far, it's all good."

"So, like. I'm sorry, I don't know much about this stuff. Does this make you a lesbian?"

I shrug. "Uh. I try not to get bogged down in the terminology of it."

Jason looks sheepish and his cheeks redden. "Sorry if I, uh. I didn't mean to ask a weird question, I just—"

"No, it's—"

My voice catches in my throat when I find myself looking at him. He's embarrassed, so that little scar over his lip quivers a bit. His big blue eyes are sad, clearly empathetic, and I could see why Piper liked him. He had all these distinguished Roman features, but underneath them, he was pretty cute. Right now he looks like a puppy who got caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

I blink. Wait, what?

"Hey, uh, Zoe, are you okay? Do I have something on my face? You were staring."

I shake my head, trying to snap out of whatever weird brain thing is going on. Hormones, I reason. "I'm fine! Just, uh. Gonna go see Annabeth real quick."

I find her sitting next to Piper (of course) and she laughs when she sees me approach. "You look like you saw a ghost," she says.

"I'm fine." I robotically sit next to her and grab her hand, which feels just as good as it always has. "Just. Uh. Mmmhmm."

She gives me a sideways look. "You okay?"

"Feel free to step outside if you're overwhelmed," Piper offers, giving me that daughter of Aphrodite warm smile.

I tap my foot on the ground, feeling fluttery. This is so stupid. In the last year, I've been able to admit to myself that I'm a girl, which, you know, wasn't easy, but still, I get there in the end. And here I am, feeling like I'm going to explode.

"Seriously, princess, you look like you're gonna have a panic attack or something," Annabeth says, looking concerned.

I just looked at Jason, of all people, and thought he was cute, is what I would say if I was being honest. This is uncharted territory for me. Never before in my life have I ever thought: Hey, that's a cute boy. Maybe I am going to have a panic attack.

"Nothing! It's nothing." I say, trying to smile.

Gods, was it easier for me to accept that I'm not a man than it is to accept that I might be capable of being attracted to men? That's so stupid. That's the dumbest thing in the world. I hate my brain.

Annabeth looks at me with a skeptical expression. "Well, okay."

"You and Annabeth need to join us for a couple's dinner," Will Solace suggests.

It's midnight, and, without going into the details or implicating myself in a crime . . . bottles have been mysteriously disappearing from Tristan McLean's liquor cabinet. Will sits upside-down on the couch; his feet dangle in the air where his head should be, and he smiles up at me from feet-level. "Nico really needs to have more fun."

I nod sloppily. "I do owe him a few favors!"

Nico wanders over to us, tapping his foot, looking stern. Again, without implicating any of us in possible crimes: Nico had not aided in removing or emptying Tristan's bottles. Despite being the youngest people here, he and Hazel were monitoring us, making sure things didn't get too wild. "We talking about how Jackson owes me?"

"We're gonna go out to dinner!" I tell him. I have a long sip of my drink, which, it's just Coke, I promise. "Me and my girlfriend. You and your boyfriend. I'll buy you, like, a bunch of drinks. And that'll be the favor! I wonder if New Rome has any gay clubs."

"I'm guessing no," Nico says stiffly. "I'm sixteen, so I'd be too young to get in anyway."

"But we'll be right across the bay from San Francisco!" I point out.

"We could all get fake IDs!" Will suggests.

"You're both drunk," Nico says, rolling his eyes.

I shake my head. "Be cool and gay and hang out with us, Nico! Niiiiiicoooooo!"

"Niiiiiicoooooo!" Will echoes, laughing.

"Niiiiiicoooooo!" wails a drunk Jason Grace, who's currently laid out on another couch (thankfully barely conscious, given how flustered he'd made me), being tended to by his sister.

The son of Hades glares at us. "This sucks," he grumbles. "I'm gonna go make sure Frank is okay. Last I saw him, he was hunched over the toilet."

"Agreed with di Angelo on this," says Thalia. "You guys need to take it easy."

"We're fine!" I insist. "Just because you're all silvery and immortal doesn't mean you can't have a good time!"

"Someone in this apartment needs to be alert. There are five children of the Big Three here! What if we get attacked?"

Just then, I hear a knock at the door. "Gods, I forgot we ordered pizza!" Will says, giggling.

I race to my feet, taking a second to answer to gather my bearings. "I'll do the pizza thing," I declare, feeling generally wobbly. "I'll get the pizza!"

I open the door of Piper's condo and take a few seconds to process exactly who's delivering our food. His face is square, his jaw covered in a black beard. I know his warm green eyes instantly, even if he's wearing a t-shirt that says Big Paulie's Pizzeria instead of his usual Hawaiian apparel.

"Zoe," Poseidon says warmly. "I was hoping we could talk."

I blink. "You work at the pizza place?"

"I . . . merely commandeered this pizza," he says slowly. "I compensated the mortals for it, don't worry."

I dimly take the box from him, unsure of what exactly to say. Thankfully, Poseidon appears willing to take the reins on this one. "I've been watching you intently these past few months," he says. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

I redden a bit. I've had some embarrassing moments lately. I sincerely hope he didn't see me the day I spent in Missoula, which, the less said about that, the better. "You have?"

"Naturally. Unfortunately, it's rare that one of my half-blood children reaches adulthood. I wanted to see if you were on the right course."

If I was sober, I never said this to him. The rum in my belly gives me confidence. "I've kinda had to figure out what the right course is. I'm guessing where I've ended up isn't what you prefer."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Why would you say that?"

"I'm all trans-y these days." The words are flowing out of me now, freely. Thanks, rum. "I've felt less of a connection to the ocean. I kinda figured you were over me. Plus, you know, you're my dad, and the trans-y thing I mentioned before, and I didn't know if—"

He holds up his hand. "You think I'm hung up on that? On something as mortal and impermanent as gender? Please. I've existed for thousands of years, and so have people like you. I've had several children like you. Dozens of my legacies, too. As for why you're less connected to the ocean: it's hard to say for sure why that's the case, but no, it isn't because I'm over you. It may have been because you were depressed, but it's not for me to speculate. Besides, that isn't why I'm checking up on you."

"Oh," I say. Conversation over, I guess, in that department. I'm pretty grateful for it.

"I wanted to know if your mother was still keeping well."

I squint at him. Did he come all this way to ask about my mom? "She's fine. She had a baby. I'm sure you noticed that while you were spying on me."

"Spying on me is a harsh word for godly omniscience," he grumbles. "But, yes, I did notice that. I wanted to make sure she was in good health. The man I met, Paul, does he still treat her well?"

I can't believe this is the conversation we're having. I suddenly feel more like a child of divorce than I ever have, like I'm the medium Poseidon goes through to spy on his ex. "He does."

He nods, satisfied. "Good."

"You could just see her for yourself," I point out.

"I wouldn't want to intrude on her life now that she's met another man she loves," he says, shaking his head. "Now, uh. I don't want to keep you from your party any longer. Enjoy your pizza, Zoe."

I can barely mutter a goodbye before he's gone. Typical. Poseidon: good for a five-minute conversation once every year or so. I'm left standing at the door, holding a rapidly cooling pizza, feeling soberer than I'd like.

"Nico," I say, slurring my words, "would you ever kiss a giiiirl?"

He briefly looks strained before giving a shrug of his shoulders. "I don't know."

"Wha' 'bout you, Reeeeeyna?"

The daughter of Bellona squints at me. Playing truth or dare with her was scary; she'd wanted to summon Argentum and Aurum to judge whether or not people were telling the truth. Everyone else said no. "You don't get to ask two questions in a row, Jackson. That means it's your turn. Truth or dare?"

"Truth!"

"Would you ever kiss a boy?"

"Nah," I say, shaking my head. I'm pretty sure that's right. "Frank, wha' 'bout you?"

The son of Apollo stiffens and glances at Hazel when I ask him that. "No."

"I might," Jason mutters from his makeshift bed on the couch.

Nico's eyebrows practically fly off his head, like, are you kidding me? If Piper wasn't already asleep, I'm guessing she'd react similarly. I just try not to look at him, because I get tingly with embarrassment when I do.

"Jason . . . you're just messing around, right?" Nico asks him, looking more confused than annoyed.

He replies by belching and rolling over.

"Okay. Uhh . . . Hazel, truth or dare?" Will asks the daughter of Pluto.

She shrugs. "Dare."

"Oooh! I dare you to—"

"Zoe, I could hear you from the kitchen!" Annabeth says, storming into the living room. She's had a few drinks but she's mostly coherent. "Come on, you're eating bread and drinking water. Enough of this!"

"Ann'beth," I mutter, "I'm fine!"

She glares at me with those scary eyes I've come to love and fear. "You're clearly drunk."

"Nooooo! I'm tipsy!"

"She's extremely drunk," Reyna says, rolling her eyes.

I glare at her. "Reeeeeyna! Come on!"

Annabeth sighs. "Sorry, Rey. Hey, princess, I'm gonna lay you down somewhere comfortable, okay?"

"You called her Rey," I point out. "I've never heard anyone call her Reeeeeey!"

My girlfriend reddens and gives Reyna another apologetic look. "Come on. On your feet."

While she leads me away from the living room and towards a bedroom, I start giggling. "You called her Rey."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You have a crush on Reeeeey-naaaa! I thought I was the only girl you liked but now there's Reeeeey."

She looks like she might kill me as she sets me down on the bed. "I do not have a crush on Reyna, and if you won't stop saying it—"

"Iss fine if you have a crush on Reeeeey-naaaa," I say, smiling at her. "I won' tell anyone! Aww, you're blushing!"

"I am not having this conversation with you right now," she says through gritted teeth. "I'm bringing you some bread and some water."

"Iss okay!" I say, grabbing her hand. "I looked at Jase-y earlier and I thought he was cute! Iss fine."

Her eyebrows jump in surprise. "Oh, really? That's interesting information."

"Don' tell anyone though. And I won' tell anyone about Reeeeeey—"

"Not one more word," she warns.

"Reeeeeyna and Aaaaann'beth sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S—"

She throws her hands up in frustration and cries "You're impossible!" before leaving me to finish the rest of the song on my own.

"This is the part where you admit you were acting stupidly and you apologize."

I frown. Thalia and I were sitting out on the balcony, the sun beginning to peek over Prospect Park. I'm sober now (mostly), and Thalia's dragged me outside to have this conversation. A talk I'd been dreading.

"I never would've run away if you hadn't banished me from your camp," I reply through gritted teeth. "I need you to understand how hopeless I felt when you did that."

"For that, I'm sorry. I just couldn't let you do it, Jackson. I knew you'd regret it."

"The Blessing of Artemis," I say wistfully.

"I understand," she says. "I, uh. Willow's been asking me about you. What did you two even talk about?"

My heart pounds when I think about her. "Nothing," I reply. "Just . . . tell her I said thank you, but I can't do it. Tell her that she can have her jacket back if she wants it."

If I thought I could do it, I'd convince her to leave the Hunt, have her resume her mortal life. I wish I could talk to her more, explain to her why I made my decision, tell her that she could have a life outside of the Hunt in the modern world if she wanted it. It wouldn't be easy for her, but I was managing.

But I knew she was Willow, the best damn tracker in the Hunters. She loved that life. It was all she knew.

"She gave you a jacket?" Thalia asks, looking at me sideways.

"It's a long story. Just tell her that she can have it back if she wants."

The glass to the balcony slides open, and Annabeth steps out into the humid air. "What're you two talking about?" she asks, looking exhausted. Long night. So long it was about to be day again.

Thalia and I share a look as my girlfriend flops down into a chair. I never told Annabeth that I had been considering the Hunt; I didn't need her to know she almost lost me. "Not much."

"Everyone else is successfully sleeping," the daughter of Athena says, looking red-eyed. "Jason's done puking. I swear, the sounds he made . . ." She shudders. "It was like he was possessed by an eidolon."

I flinch. "I'd prefer if we didn't mention eidolons ever again."

She gives me a look, like, is there something else about Jason that you'd like to never mention again? I glare at her. The last thing I need is her teasing me about this.

"Poor kid," Thalia says. "He really needs to learn his limits."

"I'm sure tonight made him learn his lesson," Annabeth says. "He'll take it easy next time."

It feels good to sit here peacefully, to be worried about problems as mundane as underage drinking. I feel like a normal eighteen-year-old girl, if only for a moment.

Annabeth holds my hand and grins at me. "How was the party for you?"

"Amazing." Even though I'd managed to embarrass myself a few times, I really meant it. It felt natural to be with everyone again. Sure, I still need to visit Camp Half-Blood, but this feels like a good start. "I feel right. This is how it's supposed to be."

She kisses me on the lips, giggling. "I'm so glad to hear you say that."

Thalia makes a face. "You two better get a room."

We watch Apollo's sun chariot rise over Brooklyn in comfortable silence.

Wooooo! That's all, folks! Nothing too heavy in this chapter, just a nice bow on Zoe's progress to this point. Tormenting her with the whole Jason thing was lots of fun.

If you're one of the people who followed and read along with every update: thank you. I deeply appreciate it. I didn't expect this story to garner much attention here, given its subject matter, but I've been pleased with its reception.

If you're trans/questioning/otherwise LGBTQ in a different way: I hope this meant something to you. I'm a trans woman and Zoe's circumstances are basically completely different from mine (other than just the fact that she's a demigod lol), so don't feel alienated/left out if you don't see yourself in her either. Everyone's journey is different.

There's so much other weird trans demigodly stuff I wanted to do with this story! Like, I had this concept that monsters become attracted to half-bloods around age thirteen because of puberty, and therefore Zoe undergoing hormone replacement therapy would be, like, mortally dangerous, since it would attract monsters. I originally wanted a plotpoint early on to be that Zoe's ability to manipulate water was suffering as a direct result of her dysphoria, which, I still think that's an interesting idea. If you're a writer and you plan of writing a trans character at some point: consider these things! I'd love to see those ideas explored.

LASTLY: While I didn't really intend on writing any more fanfiction in the near future (I'm writing my thesis in the fall so I need to focus on that), I, while editing this chapter, came up with some more studd I might like to write at some point. While I initially didn't intend on writing beyond this point, a few fun scenes from Annabeth's point of view of the upcoming summer at Camp Half-Blood have taken root in my brain and refuse to leave. Very fluffy, very ZoexAnnabeth, very sweet.

SO: there may be an epilogue to this thing at some point. If that sounds like something you're interested in reading, I would recommend following this story, because I have no idea when/if I'm going to write it. It might be a couple of weeks from now, it might be a year from now, it might never happen.

Anyway! This is the end. Have a nice day, and be good to yourself.

XOX