Usagi Tsukino would be the first to admit that reasonable wasn't the first adjective most people (or anyone, really,) would use to describe her. And, while being reasonable was overrated, she was certainly not unreasonable.

At least . . . not all the time.

Luckily, she had plenty of other things going for her. She was cheerful (duh), adorable (obviously), and personable AF (thank you very much)—adored by friends, family, and clients . . . pretty much everyone who met her, really. One might even go so far as to say she was universally loved.

Correction: Nearly universally loved. For there was one notable exception—arrogant, condescending, stick-up-his-ass Mamoru Chiba.

Mamoru Chiba, who had been picking fights, pointing out her flaws, and generally just being a dick since the moment they met.

Mamoru Chiba, who brought out her most non-reasonable-ish self and instantly made her angrier than any other entity in the known universe.

Mamoru Chiba, who she inexplicably had sex with two weeks ago.

Really, really hot sex.

Seriously, what had she been thinking?

She hadn't been thinking at all, and that was the problem.

She hated to admit it, but she had been nervous for the meeting—to enter the enemy's lair. So, she had donned armor: her best boss-babe work dress, flawless makeup, and stilettos sharp enough to deflate any man's ego.

Then, something had gone awry. Somehow, wires got crossed inside her brain as they fought, allowing some heretofore undiscovered part of herself to take over in the heat of the moment, leading to kissing and touching and . . . everything else.

Yes, he was attractive. (Fine, extremely hot, the stupid man.) Anyone with working eyeballs would agree. But his personality seemed to be tailor made to repulse her.

Normally, she would ask her bff and roommate Minako, for advice. But this was not a normal situation. No, this was about as abnormal as a situation could get. The idea of admitting to anyone that she had willingly had (really, really hot) sex with Mamoru Chiba . . . well, it just wasn't going to happen. Not if she could help it.

Not ever.

Nope.

So, Usagi was stuck figuring things out for herself. And, after several nights spent staring at her ceiling, trying not to think about the feel of Mamoru's hands, Mamoru's tongue, and Mamoru's . . . other appendages, the best she could come up with was nothing at all. Which is to say, pretend like it never happened and hope that Mamoru did the same.

Over the next two weeks she did as much work on the party as she could through email, messaging Reika (who cc'd Mamoru in her replies, the traitor,) for opinions and approval of themes and colors and food and drinks and favors and lighting and a million other little things.

But time was working against her, and, sooner than she would have liked, she found herself trapped alone with Mamoru in his car, studiously looking out of the window to ignore his presence as he drove them to her favorite shopping complex for party supplies. They had given each other the barest acknowledgement when she had entered the car, then rode in silence the entire way, save for the sound of the GPS's disembodied voice guiding them to their destination. His stupid(ly intoxicating) earthy scent permeated the car's interior, forcing her to breathe out of her mouth like a moron for most of the ride, but it was a small sacrifice to preserve her sanity.

So far, so okay.

Then, Mamoru parked.

"Look, Usagi, we should talk about—" was all Mamoru managed to get out before Usagi scrambled to open the car door, frantically pressing the unlock button a dozen times when the door failed to open on her first attempt. She spilled out into the cavernous underground parking area, pulling her purse with her and slamming the door behind her. She didn't bother to wait for Mamoru, instead striding purposefully toward the nearest elevator.

"Usagi!"

Her name echoed throughout the concrete structure but she didn't slow down. She could hear him jogging to catch up.

"Usagi," Mamoru repeated, catching her arm and spinning her to face him.

She felt her breath hitch as his eyes locked onto hers, the familiar look of frustration and anger causing a most unwelcome jolt within her as she flashed back to that night. She grimaced, ignoring the memory with all of her might. "What?"

He released her with a sigh. "Don't you think we should talk about what happened?"

"Hmmmmm," she said, tapping her lips with one finger, hoping to display a bravado she didn't feel. "Nope. Sure don't."

Mamoru frowned. "At least we should—"

"No, we shouldn't," she interrupted. "Look. It never happened, OK?"

"It never happened? Fine," Mamoru said, raising his hands in defeat. "I honestly don't know what I was expecting. I should have known better than to think you could act like an adult about this."

"It was a mistake, Baka. One that will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever—"

"Yes, I get it," Mamoru attempted to interject.

"—ever, ever, ever happen again."

"Wait, I thought you said it didn't happen?" The familiar sarcastic smirk on Mamoru's face instantly sent Usagi's blood pressure skyrocketing.

"And?" she shot back, giving him the most withering stare she could muster. "What else do you want me to say?"

Mamoru sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. That there are no . . . hard feelings, I guess."

"Don't worry, Baka," she said, patting his arm. "I don't hate you any more than I already did. Not that that's even possible . . ."

"I'm being serious, Usagi."

"So am I! Like I said, let's just pretend it never happened. No harm, no foul."

Mamoru eyed her warily. "Are you sure?"

Usagi rolled her eyes. "You think too much, Baka," she told him, then resumed her path to the elevator, Mamoru following a respectful distance behind her.

Their ride up into the shopping complex was blissfully short and silent. Usagi kept her eyes trained on the floor indicator, studiously watching the numbers going up in order to avoid seeing Mamoru's reflection looming behind her in the elevator's shiny interior. They reached the fifth floor with a ding and were on their way.

"What's our first stop?" Mamoru asked as he once again followed a step behind.

"Stationery."

"So . . . invitations."

"Invitations, RSVP cards, gift bag labels," she said, tapping a finger as she listed each off, "table placards, game cards—"

"Game cards?" he interrupted. "What kind of game cards? I don't remember approving that."

"'Motoki Minutiae,' the Motoki trivia contest I came up with. Reika and I texted about it," she said, then stopped to turn and look at him. "And I will remind you that your approval is not what's important. Honestly, you do realize this party is for Motoki, not you, right?"

He crossed his arms. "Obviously, which is why I didn't say anything when you suggested karaoke, since Motoki inexplicably loves it."

"Karaoke? What's wrong with karaoke?"

"Nothing at all if you don't mind listening to a bunch of drunken idiots who think they can sing butchering the terrible songs they love."

"My god," she said, crinkling her nose, "do you ever lighten up?"

"Of course. I just prefer to maintain my dignity when I do so and leave the singing to the professionals."

"Oh please, don't try and say you've never done karaoke. That's just not possible."

"It is because I haven't."

Blinking in shock, Usagi sputtered, "Never?!"

Mamoru sniffed. "Did I stutter?"

Usagi scrunched up her face as she looked him up and down, trying to figure out how someone so repellant could be contained in such an attractive package. Baffled, she shook her head. She was beginning to think that Mamoru was one big cosmic practical joke, designed specifically to torment her. "Whatever, mutant," she muttered as she resumed walking.

It was beyond her how someone as sweet and fun as Motoki could have a best friend like Mamoru. She tried to imagine them hanging out, Motoki downing beers as Mamoru went on and on about the best brand of microscope or his new designer wine opener or something equally mind-numbing and interesting only to men over the age of 50. Seriously, who hates karaoke!?

She sighed in relief when they finally reached the stationery store, the clerk inside smiling and bowing when she spotted Usagi.

"Oh Usagi," the clerk said as she stepped out from behind the counter, "I'm glad you stopped by, we just got some new cardstock that I think you're going to love!"

"Ooooh, sounds great, Kimiko," Usagi said as Mamoru stood beside her. Kimiko eyed him with interest, clearly wondering who he was. "Mamoru, this is Kimiko. Kimiko, Mamoru—my uh," she paused, trying to think of an appropriate word, "my associate."

Ever the professional, Kimiko smiled and bowed at Mamoru, who gave a small bow of his own. "Welcome!" she told him. "You're in good hands with Usagi—we just love her. She's one of the most creative planners we work with!"

Mamoru nodded politely. "That I can believe."

"We always have a binder of her work on hand, if you'd like to see it."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about him, Kimiko," Usagi said. "He's not my client—he's just signing the checks."

"Oh my," Kimiko tittered politely as Mamoru glared. "Usagi you are too much!"

Usagi turned to him. "I'm going to warn you now that this is not a quick process. Don't worry though, I'm sure you'll get your chance to approve everything before handing over your credit card."

"And what do you want me to do in the meantime?" Mamoru asked. "Stay? Leave?"

"I could not care less. There's a couch over there if you want to chill. Otherwise I'm sure there's an old man store around if you need to buy a new cardigan or walker or something."

"Ha ha, very funny," he said and turned to leave.

"Maybe, if we're both lucky," Usagi called to him as he stalked out of the store, "you can find someone who will sell you a sense of humor!"

Kimiko tittered behind her hand. "Usagi, you are just too much!"

Usagi noted when Mamoru eventually slunk back into the store, holding a to-go cup of what was undoubtedly black coffee. She and Kimiko were still busy, so ignoring him was easier than usual. When she had finally finished and Kimiko was occupied writing out the orders, she made her way to the seating area where Mamoru was flipping through a book of samples. Her samples, she realized as she got closer. He looked up as he heard her approach.

"All done," she told him.

He nodded and carefully put her sample book back in its original place with the others, then followed her back to the counter where Kimiko was waiting for payment. Kimiko presented Mamoru with the bill, but instead of the scrutiny Usagi expected, he merely gave it a quick glance before handing over his card.

"I'll email the proofs to you tomorrow, Usagi," Kimiko said as she returned Mamoru's card. "Your order should be ready within two weeks."

"Sounds perfect! Thanks, Kimiko!"

They left in a flurry of bows and polite salutations.

"What's next?" Mamoru asked as they stepped back into the mall's corridors.

Usagi thought for a moment. "Favors, I think."

Mamoru stretched out an arm. "Lead the way."

Again, Usagi was surprised. No pushback? No questioning? They walked in silence as Usagi mulled the change in his behavior.

Finally, she cracked. "So . . . no comment on the price of the stationery? No demanding to approve the proofs?"

Mamoru shrugged. "Everything seems to be well in hand."

She raised her eyebrows at that. "Finally seen the light, huh? Realized the truth?"

"I guess you could say that," he admitted. "I give credit where credit is due. Your portfolio was very well-done."

Usagi struggled to contain a blush at his compliment, weak though it was. Coming from him somehow gave it more weight.

"Kimiko is very professional," he continued. "She clearly knows what she's doing."

Well then.

Swallowing back the urge to tell him somewhere else he could shove his credit card, Usagi decided instead to nod and then go back to ignoring his presence.

Thankfully, Mamoru's more laid-back demeanor continued, and the rest of their shopping excursion went by more-or-less smoothly, with only a few minor squabbles. She was actually starting to be glad he was along, since he paid for everything, carried all the heavy stuff, and had a car to haul it all home in.

Passing by the mall's arcade on their way out, Usagi had a brainwave.

"Hey, do you think it's possible to customize one of the purikura machines at Crown for the party?"

Mamoru wearily looked at the lines of glittery, glamorous photo booth machines. "Customize? How so?"

"Like getting custom image borders and decorations and stuff," she said, shifting her bags around in her hands. "It would be so cute! I bet Ami could figure it out . . ."

"Yeah, I'd leave it to Ami. I don't know the first thing about purikura."

"Well ok, but like, you've done it . . . right?" Usagi's stare turned incredulous as Mamoru avoided her gaze. "Right?"

"It's . . . not something I've ever done, no."

"How?! How is that possible?!"

He shrugged bashfully. "I just haven't."

"My god Baka! No karaoke, no purikura," she said, pointing an accusing finger in his face as bags swung from her hand. "Are you sure you're even Japanese?"

"It's not that big of a deal," he said. "It's just not, y'know, something to do by yourself."

Usagi cocked her head. "Do by your . . ." She trailed off as his meaning sunk in. "Oh."

Karaoke, purikura—these were things that people did in groups, never alone. And sure, Mamoru had Motoki, but even as a teenager Motoki was always working. Did Mamoru have any other friends? Usagi had no idea, but he did seem to be a bit of a loner. She suddenly felt something akin to pity creeping into the ball of hatred reserved for Mamoru.

"Alright," she said, shifting all of her bags to one hand and so she could grab his arm with the other. "We're doing it."

"Wait, what?" Mamoru sputtered. "Doing what?"

"Purikura!" she announced, dragging him into the arcade through a crowd of tweens and teens mulling around the machines. "Here, take your pick!"

"Usagi, I'm not—"

"Do you want to be a princess? Goth? Gyaru?" she said, pointing to various booths. "Ooooh, this one has animal face filters!"

Mamoru sighed. "Usagi, I think we're a little old for this."

"Pffff," Usagi said, waving her hand at him. "You're never too old for purikura. Now c'mon. Pick one!"

Mamoru looked at the booths skeptically.

"Please?" she wheedled, tugging his arm. "My treat!"

Eventually, Mamoru's shoulders sagged. "Fine," he said, admitting defeat.

"Yes, yes, yes, yessss!" she cheered, hopping up and down. "Which one? Pick! Pick! Pick!"

"That one, I guess," he said, pointing to the most sober looking of the lot.

Though it was a boring choice, it had the benefit of having no line. Not willing to give Mamoru time to back out, she once again grabbed his arm, dragged him to the photo booth, and shoved him inside. He took in the spaceship-like interior, blinking rapidly at the various angular panels of diffused lighting surrounding the digital photo console.

"Put your bags here," she said, dropping her own in a blackened area below the console. As soon as he complied, she yanked him back out to the starting screen near the entrance of the photo booth. He remained silent as she paid the fee and quickly selected the first few photo settings.

"Now the fun begins!" she declared. "We get to choose poses!"

Mamoru was beginning to lose his color. "Poses?" he weakly asked.

"We don't have to do them," she clarified, "but it helps give ideas when you're in there."

"I see," he said, then half-heartedly clicked through a few options.

"Ooooh!" Usagi squealed, pointing to a sample set featuring two teen girls making silly poses together. "That set is super cute!"

"It's way too girly!" Mamoru protested.

"Fine, fine, spoil sport. But you have to choose something fast," she said, pointing to the timer on the display.

Mamoru huffed in frustration. "Fine, this one I guess," he said, choosing a set seemingly at random. "Not that it even matters, since I won't be doing any of them."

"Next," Usagi said as a new round of options appeared, "is the backgrounds!"

"There's more?" Mamoru groaned.

"Poor Baka," Usagi said, patting his arm as he scrolled through the options. "Oh look! They have a set of manga backgrounds!"

"I'm not a cartoon character, Odango."

Usagi rolled her eyes as he chose a set of monochromatic backgrounds for their shoot.

"Finally," he said as the screen instructed them to enter the photo booth. "Let's get this over with."

The fact that he reentered the photo booth with an expression grim enough to make even a firing squad feel guilty gave Usagi endless pleasure. This was going to be So. Much. Fun.

And fun it was—at least for her. She imitated the cute poses and silly faces on the console screen for the first two shots, steadily getting nearer to Mamoru, who was doing little more than standing awkwardly to one side. Then she made her move, quickly poking him hard in the side, earning a flail and high-pitched yelp that made Usagi double over in laughter.

"C'mon, old man! Loosen up!" she managed after regaining her breath. "You look like you're posing for a passport photo!" Seeing that another photo was about to be taken, she stood directly in front of a pissed-looking Mamoru, held up her pigtails, and made the most ridiculous face she could muster. The lights flashed, and she relaxed, then poked him in the side again. "I know you don't know how to have fun, but you could at least try!"

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, crossing his arms.

Usagi merely laughed. She poked him again, this time in the belly button, as the next picture was taken. It did not improve his mood.

"Stop it!" he said, smacking her hands away.

"At least try to smile. You do know how, don't you? Like this!" she said, sticking her index fingers on either side of his mouth and forcing his lips into a demented grin as the lights flashed again.

But Mamoru had finally had enough of her abuse. In a swift motion, he picked her up around the waist and slung her over his shoulder. "I said stop it!"

"Baka!" Usagi screeched, limbs flailing. "I'm in a skirt!"

"Nothing I haven't already seen," he snidely replied, earning him another screech and a smack on the butt. He laughed as he set her back down. "You can dish it, but you can't take it. Typical Odango."

"You suck," she said as she tugged her clothes back into place.

"And you like it," he retorted.

They glared at each other for a moment, then laughed. A final flash filled the booth along with a woman's voice, instructing them to move to the decorating station.

"Now what?" Mamoru asked as he collected all of the bags.

Usagi pulled the curtain aside for them both to step through. "Around back."

A group of teenage girls waiting to use the photo booth tittered and glanced at them as they exited. Usagi ignored them, but couldn't help noticing the pink spreading across Mamoru's cheeks.

"In here, Baka," she said, pointing to another curtained area at the back of the machine.

He sighed at the complicated looking screens and set down the bags.

Usagi swiftly clicked through the initial screens. When their photos finally appeared, she couldn't help but burst into laughter. Even Mamoru gave an amused snort to see them. There, right in front of their faces, was the perfect encapsulation of their relationship. Grumpy Mamoru and goofy Usagi, driving each other crazy.

She handed him one of the two touch-screen pens attached to the decorating console. "Now we get to choose six pictures."

"Oh," he said, a hint of disappointment creeping into his voice, "we don't get all ten?"

"'Fraid not, Baka. So we have to make sure to choose the ones where I look the cutest."

Mamoru rolled his eyes. "Well, we need this one, for sure," he said, selecting the photo of her inelegantly slung across his shoulder.

"No way!" she protested. That's a horrendous picture of me!"

"I know," he agreed with a smirk.

She leaned closer to get a better look. "What are my arms even doing?!"

"I don't know or care."

"You can see part of my underwear! We are so not picking that."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not!"

Mamoru loomed over her. "Do I have to pick you up again?"

"You wouldn't dare!" she squawked.

He leaned back, then changed tactics. "Look, if you let me have this, I'll let you choose all the rest."

Usagi considered for a moment. Sure, she looked stupid in the photo, but he looked way worse in many of the others. She grinned, looking at the picture of him jumping and yelling after she'd poked him in the side the first time. "Alright," she said, selecting the picture. "It's a deal."

She quickly chose the rest, making sure to include ones of him looking most un-Mamoru-like, as well as the last photo of them laughing together. Photos chosen, she progressed them to the decorating phase.

"Are you kidding me?" Mamoru asked, overwhelmed by the amount of choices in decorations.

But Usagi, wasting no time, was already decorating one of the pictures, giving herself a cute bunny nose and ears and Mamoru demon horns. "Just choose anything! We only have two minutes to decorate all of these."

A few seconds later, she noticed that he had written Odango across the top of the picture of her holding up her pigtails and making a ridiculous face. Smirking, she crossed it out, then wrote Oh DANG tho! underneath.

But then, she watched in horror as an enormous handlebar mustache appeared across her face in another picture.

"Baka!" she yelled, but he just laughed.

"This is fun!" he said as he added a ridiculous looking unibrow to her face.

"Stoooop!" she protested, attempting to grab his pen. He was able to jerk it away in time, but she was undeterred, leaping at his arm and attempting to wrestle it away.

They scuffled, shouting and laughing as Mamoru held the pen above his head, then around his back, Usagi climbing and grabbing this way and that to get to it, unabashedly running her hands along his body and shoving into him with her hips and butt to try to knock him off kilter one way or another. Finally, Mamoru had enough and pinned her arms to her sides, holding her in a bear hug. He looked down at her and she up at him, their cheeks pink and breaths coming heavy from their play-fight.

Usagi's giggles quickly subsided. Held tightly in his arms, she no longer felt like laughing. She felt something very different instead.

With the embrace of his body against hers, her breasts pressing against his chest with each breath, Usagi was transported right back to that night in his living room. And, judging by the feel of his arousal against her belly, she wasn't the only one. She lifted her head, ran her nose along the curve of his neck, and deeply breathed in his scent.

Mamoru sharply inhaled, but he didn't let her go. "If I release you," he said in a low voice, "will you be a good girl?"

She looked into his eyes, seeing her desire reflected in them. Usagi licked her lips before answering. "No," she whispered.

And then, blissful madness overtook them once again as their lips clashed.

She didn't want to speak or think anymore. Who cared if she could barely stand the man, if they drove each other crazy? She just wanted to feel his hands on her body, his lips on hers.

He turned, pressing her against the machine as he wrapped one of her pigtails around his fist, his other hand grasping her thigh beneath her skirt. She groaned, feeling his hips grind into hers, then wrapped her arms around his neck and snaked one leg around his middle to pull him toward her more firmly.

She felt his hand move from the outside to the inside of her thigh, then his fingers pressed at her damp underwear, his mouth hot at her throat. She shivered, feeling goosebumps run along her inner thighs at his touch. It was so hot, so erotic, and something deep within her wanted him so, so badly.

Groaning, she pressed her palm against his erection, earning a moan against her throat.

"Hem hem . . ."

His hand unraveled from her hair to grasp her breast.

"Excuse me . . ."

She rubbed her palm along his cock—

"Excuse me!"

They stopped, looking in shock at a red-faced security guard who had pulled the curtain to the decorating station aside, several wide-eyed teenagers behind him.

Silently, Usagi slithered back to the ground and attempted to right her clothing.

"I think we're in trouble, Baka."

Wordlessly, Mamoru nodded.

"A lifetime ban."

After a harrowing trip to the mall's security office and an escort off premise, they were back in Mamoru's car and heading to her place so she could spontaneously combust in private.

"I can't believe this happened." Mamoru roughly ran a hand through his hair. He'd been looking pale ever since they'd been caught.

"A life. Time. Ban." Usagi repeated.

"I was always the good kid in school . . ."

"A lifetime ban from the mall!"

"Always followed the rules . . ."

But Usagi, who'd spent an impressive amount of her teenage years in detention, was running out of patience with Mamoru's histrionics.

"Who cares?! This doesn't even affect you!" she shouted. "What am I going to do about my stationery?! What about Kimiko?!"

But he didn't seem to hear her. "I've never been in trouble a day in my life!"

"Well you're making up for it now . . ."

He silently ran a shaky hand down his face.

"I still can't believe you demanded the pictures," he muttered.

"Well, I paid for them! They're mine!"

Mercifully, her building was in sight.

"Just pull over, Mamoru," she told him. "Let me get out."

He shook his head. "No. No, you will not get out. We need to talk about this. All of this."

"Oh my god," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose as he pulled up beside her building. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes," he said, throwing the car in park.

Usagi waited for him to speak.

And waited.

And waited.

"Wow, great talk!" she said, reaching for the door handle, but his hand grasped her shoulder. She hesitated when she glimpsed the pleading expression on his face. Slumping back in the seat, she sighed. "Fine."

Mamoru swallowed. "Look," he started, "it's obvious that there's . . . something going on between us."

Usagi looked out of the window. "Yeah . . ."

"I just . . . what if it happens again?"

She shrugged, picking at the window's lining. "If it happens, it happens."

"No," he said. "That's not good enough for me. I can't just leave it like that."

"Well what do you want me to say?" she said, turning to face him. "I can't predict the future."

"I don't know," he admitted. They sat in silence as they pondered their situation. "What if we had a . . . I don't know . . . an arrangement of some kind?"

Usagi skeptically furrowed her brows. "An arrangement?"

A splash of pink appeared across his pale face. "Like friends with benefits."

"Friends with benefits?" she scoffed. "More like enemies with benefits."

"Look, I'm just trying to figure this out."

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. An arrangement? With Mamoru? But it was tempting. She couldn't deny the inexplicable attraction between them, and a no-strings-attached arrangement did have a certain appeal.

"Alright," she said. "I'm not saying I agree, but what would this arrangement entail?"

"I don't really know, but I think there should be some ground rules."

"If it happens again," she clarified.

He nodded. "If it happens again."

"Honestly, only you need rules to have sex," she muttered.

He rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Usagi."

"Fine. Well, if it happens again, no one can know."

"Oh, absolutely," he agreed.

"I don't think my reputation could survive a blow like that." She shivered to think of her friends finding out that she was sleeping with Baka.

The Rules

1) No one can know

"What else?" she asked.

"Maybe some rules to make sure we don't feel too comfortable. Like, no spending the night and no exclusivity."

2) No spending the night

3) No exclusivity

"Hmm . . ." She tapped her chin as she thought. "Oh! Oh! I have one!" she said, sitting up in her seat. "You aren't allowed to fall in love with me."

He stared at her, then burst into laughter. "Don't worry, Odango. That won't be a problem. And that rule goes both ways. No falling in love with me, either."

4) No falling in love

She stuck her tongue out. "Can I go now?"

"Promise to consider it?"

Usagi turned back toward the door, knowing that it was likely the only thing she would be able to think about in the immediate future. She grabbed her purse as he unlocked the car. "Yeah, Baka, I promise."

7/10/20

Sorry for the wait! I have no good excuse.

A million thanks to Antigone2, FloraOne, and UglyGreenJacket for keeping me sane and entertained. Thank you to Antigone2 and FloraOne for the feedback and brainstorming. And thank you to Antigone2 for being the person I write for. I wouldn't do this without you!