[ OPEN ] i love the mayhem

[bloodprayer]

WHO: Michael Langdon and YOUoUoUuouoU
WHERE: All over.
WHEN: Januayayrayrayrry
WHAT: Catch-all! If you want a personalized prompt lmk!
WARNINGS: Standard Michael warnings apply. also, unless you're mr gallant, prompt 3 might get violent.

one. MAURTIA FALLS (closed to new roommates)

[ The move from Jeopardy to Maurtia Falls wasn't actually a big deal for Michael. He's got a place to squat in in every city, and he was rarely home in the first place, so packing the few boxes of things he had into the porter and heading somewhere new didn't take all that much time or energy. He did steal a few things from his old roommate's fridge that he'll have a hard time explaining if he's asked about it, but - there are five people living in this house, right? Surely he's not the only one around here who would stash weird satchels of meat into their freezer.

He's only been here for a few short days, but Maurtia Falls 002 is starting to feel the effects of casually housing the Antichrist. It's sweltering inside, like Maurtia Falls has hit the peak of summer and a record-breaking heatwave has decided to just settle on down in the house itself like a sixth, unwanted roommate. The sky is a solid, blood red, at least if you look up at it while you're standing too close to the property, and crows have been starting to circle the roof, settling down on tiles and gutters and making a shitty, feathery mess of things.

He figures he needs to introduce himself to his roommates, given that he's only ever spoken to a couple of them, and he was anonymous on the network while he did it. Michael doesn't want to get into trouble, but he feels he should confess that he's the reason why birds keep chilling on their doorstep and why the AC never seems to work anymore, or at least... see how they feel about it all. If you're his roommate, he's knocking on your bedroom door right before you go to sleep, whenever that may be, clutching the hem of his shirt and taking a few deep breaths. ]

Um, hey. Iiiiiit's Michael. The new guy.

[ dot dot dot. ]

Can I come in?

two. JEOPARDY

[ The good thing about working in a desert filled with radioactive spider-cults in a world with weird shit going down every few minutes is that nobody really cares when the weather gets a little unseasonably warm. He's been working at a pet store in Jeopardy for long enough now that his powers are starting to be attracted to the building; just like in Maurtia Falls, it's sweltering hot inside, but thankfully, the reptiles have seemed pretty into it. They only really sell lizards and snakes and spiders around here, and Michael's actually been having a bit of fun, watching the geckos and bearded dragons laze around in the heat.

The pet store's where he is now, with a giant fucking python wrapped around his neck while he tries to clean her terrarium. And she's squeezing a little too tight. ]

Shit. Fuck.

[ Is she choking him? Shit, she's choking him. Michael's not panicking, exactly, but he can't seem to get her to move away, so he could really use some help. He steps away from the terrarium and starts tugging at her body with both hands, but she doesn't want to move. He could just kill her, but then that'd be on camera, and he'd lose his job, which, cool, great, and he could just use mind control to get her to move, but he's still figuring out how to use that power without making people's brains explode. So...

Help. Help? Could really use another set of hands here. ]

three. NONAH

[ Michael wants to be good. Michael's only ever wanted to be good. Sometimes, though, more than wanting to be good, Michael wants to learn. He wants to push, and he wants to change, and he wants to grow, and he wants to be like the people he admires. He wants to be like the doctor he knew back home, who changed a young starlet's face to help her reach greater fame; he wants to be like his grandmother, who had a firm hand but always knew what was best for him. He wants to be like his father.

There's something following you. A man in a black, shiny suit, hanging from walls and ceilings, just out of view. It's late at night, and your eyes might need to adjust to see the man covered in latex, but once you do, you can tell that something's not right. He's moving in odd, fractured, jarring spasms, his bones bending in ways they're not supposed to. Sometimes, it looks like he's breathing too much, fast and rapid at an inhumane rate, his chest rising and falling like it's struggling to break out of its clothing. Sometimes, it's like he's not breathing at all.

The second you see him, he realizes he's been seen. He drops to the ground, and he follows you faster. ]

four. WILD

[ southpaws if you want a specific prompt, setting those up below. wildcard always available. ]

Comments

closed // tate (violence against animals cw)

[bloodprayer]

[ in a world of advanced science and incredible opportunity, imports have fattened themselves like pigs ready to be slaughtered. natives have gorged themselves on celebrity idolatry and baseless entertainment and allowed themselves to rot and to stagnate. humans, as a whole, have forgotten what it's like to track their prey through the wild, slinking through darkness to dominate nature and their own desires in ways beyond whatever allotted satisfaction is handed to them by someone with real power.

michael's still learning who he is, but he thinks he's better than that.

this has been months in the making. he's set up a foundation, and it's time to build. he's told tate about his powers, taking credit for returns he hadn't had a hand in. he's given him gifts, he's taken gifts away - the snake named jolene, the mask from nonah - and even though the two of them haven't had the relationship he's wanted, he knows that he can change that. he desperately wants to be a good person, but he even more desperately wants his father to love him. no matter what it takes. no matter how uncivilized he has to be to make that happen.

jolene is an easy enough kill, and cobain is an easy enough capture. the snake has to look like she was attacked by the cat, and even though he could just control the two of them to fight, he's still learning how to use his powers, and this needs to be as clean as possible; looking down at her through her terrarium, he snuffs out her life like a candle, throwing her corpse to the ground for cobain to feed on. michael isn't there to hear how tate reacts when he gets home, but he is there an hour later, when he takes cobain under his arm and brings her back to nonah, slipping away unseen.

sitting in the abandoned set of the old nonah nightmare mansion, all he has to do is wait and hope that he's done enough to be needed. for tate to remember the things he can do, and the promises he's made. if tate doesn't message him soon, well - he'll just have to figure out his next step from here. ]

[confiscated]

[He'd found Jolene being picked at by Cobain, who hadn't shown any interest in her before but was plenty happy now to pick the meat from her bones. He'd shooed her away in a flare of anger, and that was the last time he saw her. He took Jolene in a ziploc bag to Jeopardy, trying to find this so called witch-kid only to arrive there on his fucking day off. Tate almost lost his shit, kicking a dent into a newspaper box, but he calmed enough to text him before heading home.

The kid was going to bring Jolene back, everything was fine. He got home and everything was not fine. Although his mood had stabilized as if in the snap of a few fingers, it wouldn't stay that way for long. Cobain didn't greet him like she always did and he wondered if she was scared of him - maybe pissed? He never yells at her, not seriously. So after setting Jolene down he went to look for her. And she was nowhere to be found.

By the time Michael arrives, Tate will be pacing alone in the living area, his hand to his mouth and a more harried look to his face. He's breathing hard and his eyes glisten to suggest he's been crying on and off. The only reason he's still here and not out looking for Cobain with Derek is because he told this kid to come. And he still wants his God damn snake back.]

[bloodprayer]

[ Michael does leave as soon as he says he will, but he takes his time in heading out to Heropa. Cobain is tucked under his arm, sated and happy after having her fill of warm milk and wet food, and while she's not exactly affectionate to Michael, she's not scratching at him like he's done something wrong. That's all he needs to sell this, really.

It takes about an hour for him to get to Tate's, expression anxious when the front door opens inward. Tate's been crying and it sends a jolt of anticipation through him - he wanted to push Tate down, and he feels, maybe, like he's been able to do that pretty successfully. Now he just needs to bring him back up. ]

Um, hey. [ He bounces Cobain a little under his arm, who looks up at Tate from the crook of Michael's elbow. ] This - sorry - this girl belongs to you, right? I saw her, way back at the porter, and-- and I remember her, from the last time I was over. I thought-- "huh, that's pretty far away from home, for an outside cat," so I thought I'd...

[ Michael trails off. He looks from Cobain, then back to Tate, doing his best to look reserved and sympathetic and hopeful all the same. A smile slips through when it wasn't supposed to, but it just makes him look like he's trying to be friendly. ]

Thought I'd bring her back, just in case she got out. Or, um - fuck, maybe I've just kidnapped some random person's cat.

[confiscated]

[Tate hates feeling helpless. It's almost as bad as being alone and abandoned - it is like feeling abandoned because it's the act of not being able to change reality. And reality keeps repeating in ways that beat him down and today's been horrible. Cobain stayed inside the Heropa house, she knew not to roam around unless they were outside with her. And even then, she preferred the evenings and late night rather than the hot Florida sun.

He wants his cat. He wants her back. He wants his snake. Why are they gone? What did he do to deserve this? What's next? Tears spring to his eyes again on the next pace across the living room, his teeth picking at his nail before Michael arrives. It's been an hour of waiting and fear and when he looks at the new arrival, he barely registers it at first.]

Cobain!

[The change is instantaneous, Tate's eyes wide and his pissy little scowl slipping away. That's his fucking cat alright, and he reaches for her immediately. Pulls her from Michael's arms to his chest, expression soft and a little too emotional. He looks up at Michael after a beat, sniffing back the signs of crying just like he wipes them away with his hand. He shouldn't be crying. Fuck.]

You - where was she? At the porter? Fuck. Christ, we've... been looking.

[He's a mess. Fuck. Fuck. He won't let go of the cat, of whom is now licking at his neck as if to soothe him, and rubs at his eyes one last time before nodding further into the apartment. Jolene's sitting on the table in the living room, coiled and still very, very dead.]

Thanks. Today's... Today's been bad. I owe you.

two;

[justlittle]

[ Bean isn't intending to adopt a pet. What would he do with an animal? He knows how to take care of himself, not anything else. But he's walking by the store, and from the sidewalk he can see through the big picture window the scene unfolding within, with a snake wrapped around a young man's neck. He looks panicked. Bean knows what fear looks like, he can recognize it a mile away.

So into the store he goes. He's never used this ability before, so he's really not sure whether it will work on the python, but he has to try. ]

Let him go.

[ According to his file, when he issues a Command, the intended party he gives the order to has no choice but to obey. Time to test the definition of "intended party." ]

[bloodprayer]

[ It's been really, genuinely difficult for Michael to toe the line between projecting the image he wants to project and allowing himself to actually be who he is. Getting himself out of the situation he's landed in wouldn't be difficult, but again, between security cameras and all these passers by... well, it would draw a lot of negative attention if he did anything other than struggle. He's gotta stay innocent and quiet for as long as he can.

This kid's a bit of a savior, in that Michael doesn't have to choose between survival and destruction. It's not clear if the snake listens, at first, the constricting strength of its muscles tightening hard enough around Michael's throat to leave a mark, but once his eyes start to water the command seems to work. It uncoils itself from Michael's neck and curls itself down his arm, and Michael coughs, catching his breath, arm held straight and pointing away from himself as if he wants the snake as far from him as it can get. ]

Ah - ah.

[ He needs to remember how to breathe before he can say thank you, and he doubles over, rubbing the pink ring around his throat with his free hand. The snake's curious about Bean, though, using Michael's arm like a branch to reach out and inspect the boy a little closer, flicking its tongue in the air and stretching closer and closer towards him. ]

[justlittle]

[ The snake may be reaching out to sniff the air near Bean, but Bean is paying it no attention. So long as it's still on the boy's arm, and not actively causing any trouble, Bean doesn't give two shits about the snake.

He's more concerned with the older boy's well being. ]

Are you alright?

[ Internally, he's a little heady that that trick actually worked. He isn't sure what he would have done if the snake didn't listen. ]

[bloodprayer]

Yeah...

[ The snake still wants Bean, but Michael starts to get enough of a backbone to stop what's happening. He stands a little straighter and anchors his arm away from the kid, gingerly escorting the python back to her vivarium. His throat hurts, and he catches a sight of the pink marks circling his neck like a rope, and he's more annoyed than anything else. A bruised windpipe is nothing to brag about. Ugh, this is embarrassing.

Still, this kid stopped him from losing his cool, and Michael focuses his attention on him, eyes sharpening so much like the snake's. Gotta give this kid the praise he deserves, so he clears his throat, makes his voice less raspy. ]

Um - thank you. That was very brave of you. Most people would have just let me pass out.

roomies

[crassidy]

[Cassidy had been absent for a few days, first with a whole lot of binge drinking and falling asleep in random places, and then a mostly unwelcome port out. He's been back a day or two now but in and out catching up with friends and acquaintances alike, and while he knows of Michael, he's not exactly gone out of his way to introduce himself.

It's early morning, sometime just after sunrise, that Cassidy collapses onto his bed, sprawled out on his stomach completely naked (it shouldn't be this hot in winter and he's already checked the thermostat fifty damn times), intent to catch up on some well needed sleep. He's almost drifting off when the voice at his door stirs him back into consciousness, dragging out a grumble of annoyance that's muffled into his pillow.]

What?

[bloodprayer]

[ Michael's racked up a decent amount of experience when it comes to drinking and falling asleep in random places, at least since coming here, if only because he's real god damn susceptible to peer pressure and surrounded by poor influences. Maybe in a distant, blurry part of his mind he'll recognize Cassidy as one of the drunks he passed by when he, himself, was wasted, like two stumbling and uncoordinated ships in the night. Right now, though, that's not how he sees Cassidy - he just sees Cassidy as the scary dude slurring what through the door like he kinda wants to push Michael into the mud.

Good start.

Michael doesn't want to stand in the hallway, and he's been known to forget his manners before, so he cautiously opens the door to Cass's room without knocking. He steps inside and scratches the back of his neck, looking down at his feet, and it's not until the door's shut behind him that he looks up and just sees total ass. ]

Oh - fuck. I'm -

[ Red? He's red. He's red, and he's scrambling for the door handle behind him, pointedly trying not to look. Which is kind of difficult? He kinda wants to check this dude out, while he's here, but that's-- you know what? That's not important. That's not important right now? That's totally not important right now. ]

Sorry. Sorry? I'll, uh - I can come back later.

[crassidy]

[It's a very flat, pasty white ass that's even more contrasted when over half the rest of his body is covered in black ink. There doesn't appear to be any shame in it though, even as he lazily lifts his head to squint towards the apologising intruder. Not a single attempt to quickly cover up or bark for the guy to leave.]

Mate, you're here now. Might as well feckin' stay and say your piece.

[Still a low grumble, even as he tries to stir himself into some sort of action. Just give him a few minutes to stop being a grumpy boy, it won't take long... probably. He's a nice guy, he swears!!!!]

03.

[divaricate]

[ She'd just been wanting a late night snack, IS THAT SUCH A BAD THING????Apparently, because now that she's spotted something -- someone? -- very strange, she's wishing that she was the twin with super speed. ]

Shit.

[ It comes out in Sokovian, mostly to herself, as her red magical energy twists the street lamp closest to her as she tries to make a barrier with it. Or at least something to slow down the... whatever the hell is happening. ]

[bloodprayer]

[ Magic is new. Magic is fascinating. Michael's seen people toy with magic a fair bit since coming here, and if he's ever ported back home, it's actually something destined to be a pretty intrinsic part of his life - but right now, it's still so new, and he's never seen magic like this before.

This woman says something in a language he doesn't understand, curving an insane amount of concrete and metal in on herself like it's made of rubber, and Michael stops chasing her, just for a moment. He could get past this - easily, actually - but it makes for a successful barrier, because it entrances Michael enough to distract him. He's intrigued.

Running one smooth, latex-covered hand down the pole, Michael tilts his head like a bird examining a corpse. He looks away from he street lamp and back to Wanda, blue eyes narrowing behind the tiny window cut out for them. He wasn't going to say anything, but. It's not like she'll recognize his voice if he does. ]

More.

[divaricate]

[ Well that was a weird reaction. But weird is new, so confused yet cautious, she makes a ball of magical energy in front of her, and releases it -- letting it bounce against the nearby building walls, before floating in front of his face, as if it were a solid ball. It won't hurt him if he touches it -- unless he's hurt by magical energy generally. ]

Never seen magic before?

Jeopardy

[therewillbeorder]

[Hux had decided to go out of his way to do his research. He wasn't someone who did anything related to nature or living animals- he created an army but he had never had a pet. But he was going to push himself out of his comfort zone and a pet shop out of the way, where no one was likely to recognize him, was a good place to start.

He was dressed down in jeans and a button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his wrists. The last thing he needed was to attract any kind of attention. He had never been to any kind of pet store but he didn't expect to step in and instantly see someone being strangled by one of the larger snakes.

He stepped inside, watching thoughtfully for a moment. He had only read about snakes but seeing one was an entirely different thing. Hux downed that Michael would last much longer given how strong the snake seemed. Wrinkling his nose, he reached out to grab the snake just below its head tightly, starting to pry it away. He hated touching animals but he would have to learn how to do this soon enough.]

I can only hope this thing will not bite me. I hadn't planned to spend my afternoon in a hospital for a snake bite.

[bloodprayer]

[ The look of distaste on Hux's face bothers Michael more than the chokehold does. He doesn't like the idea that someone might think poorly of him, and his cheeks are flushed pink with shame before he realizes that Hux is unhappy to be touching the snake, rather than because Michael needed help. Hux manages to pry the python away from him, though it immediately constricts around Hux's arm to get comfortable, showing no sign of letting go.

Michael wonders how he must look, once he's been freed and his hands are on his knees while he catches his breath. There's a classy, composed dude in a clean shirt and carrying dignity right in front of him, and Michael's rasping a little in the cheap, scratchy retail uniform he's gotta wear. Ugh, maybe he should have just torn the thing in half after all. ]

No, it-- it won't bite. It'll just...

[ Constrict. Michael stands up straighter, running his hand down his neck. He mumbles a thank you under his breath, but it's very quiet. Very shy. Michael doesn't meet Hux's eyes when he talks. ]

They're getting more and more brazen with what they sell here. A snake that big can't be legal, and-- and I swear, half of the spiders here could kill a man.

[therewillbeorder]

Do you mind getting it off of me?

[He knew he had to eventually learn to handle a snake far more dangerous if his idea was going to work out but having a snake wrapped around his arm wasn't part of his plan.]

I am surprised as well- I doubt many have the skills to handle a creature like this.

[He raised his eyebrows at the mention of spiders, another idea forming. It wasn't a stretch of the imagination that the wrong kind of spider could get into a rebel pilot's room and bite them without any suspicion falling on him. After all, certainly that happened once in a while.]

Is that so? I admit I know little about the animals of this planet, I'm curious to learn more which is why I stopped in here. I was interested in snakes but the spiders sound fascinating as well.

roommate-ish (prior to his fight with cassidy)

[hampire]

[The nicest thing about the blood red sky in Eccarius' opinion, is that it makes everything a bit more darkish, which means he's less likely to get fried in the sunlight should he venture out onto the grounds in daylight hours. Shape-shifting into his raven form, he spends some time flying around and chatting with the crows (although they tended to be a bit uninformative in his opinion, spending most of their time being croaking harbingers of doom as it were). Perhaps he'd have better luck conversing with that rather ominous-looking young fellow standing in front of the house staring intently at nothing in particular.

Landing on a nearby fence, he addresses Michael, his tone pleasant enough.]

Good afternoon. See anything interesting?

[bloodprayer]

[ Michael and animals tend not to... get along, to put it politely. The crows have been a bit of an eyesore for Michael, or at least a cause for concern - he doesn't understand why they're there just yet, but he knows they're there for him, and he's afraid of what they might do to him. Standing in the yard and staring blankly up at them with glassy eyes hasn't really helped solve that problem. Surprisingly.

When one of the birds, bigger than the rest, perches on the fence in front of Michael and looks at him, Michael is an idiot who can't tell that it's a raven. He thinks it's just, you know - a particularly fat crow. Maybe the leader of all the others? That makes him nervous, too. He clenches his shirt in his fist and watches it for a second, and then - it talks.

This is the last thing he needs. Michael's eyes widen, and he looks around, then back to the raven. He nervously points a finger at himself. ]

Are you... talking to me?

[hampire]

[He answers the question brightly in a mildly patronizing sort of way.]

Well, I don't see anyone else around, do you? So, yes. Yes I am.

[He takes a moment to smooth one of his feathers, because priorities don't you know, before going on.]

You seem nervous. Perhaps I can help?

( nonah )

[melodramagic]

[ With the existence of spirits being confirmed by Sabriel in this world, Sabrina sets out on a personal mission to communicate with other souls wandering this plane, dead-set on discovering what knowledge they have that can help unravel the mysteries of this place. Though Jeopardy sounds like a hotbed for such spirits, she wonders if the other Porter cities experience something similar with the dead.

It's late, it's dark, it's a young girl on her own in the empty streets. It's a recipe for disaster.

But Sabrina is not as careful as she always assumes she is. Even with Salem, who walks alongside her with his tail down and eyes wide and wearisome, she should be taking extra precautions to ensure whatever spirits they encounter are friendly enough. Salem has been insisting all night they play it safe. ]

I know, I know. One more hour, alright?

[ But as she turns to look down at Salem, she notes the hairs on his back rising and his ears pinned down. A violent hiss and he bats at something invisible, so she follows his gaze to see something moving unnaturally in the dark, limbs bent in such a way she would almost gag if dread wasn't too busy filling the pit of her stomach.

It's only when it drops down and begins to inch closer, Sabrina shrieks and begins to run as fast as her legs will carry her. ]

Salem! Salem, what is that?!

[bloodprayer]

[ Michael doesn't hate Sabrina. Actually, he might like her more than anyone else he's met since coming here; she's interesting, and she's kind, and when he targeted her tonight, it wasn't out of any personal resentment or some pointless, twisted desire to see her suffer. This is just... how it always goes. Some young, promising, gifted student ends up in a bad situation, and three weeks after everyone reads about her tragic, untimely death in the papers, nobody can remember her name. She's in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's not his fault.

She bolts, and Michael follows, the rubber sticking to his skin. The spirits that would whisper to him back home - they would tell him about his father, and the things that he did in a suit just like this one. The terror he caused, the blood he spilled. More than ever, Michael just wants to be like his dad.

Nobody's around, or at the very least, nobody's interested in investigating Sabrina's shriek. Michael chases her through the dark, eyes focused and unblinking. He follows her without needing a breath, faster and faster, always gaining speed, and he's waiting. All she needs to do is take one wrong turn, face one dead end, and he'll be able to close in on her. All she needs is to make one mistake.

He gets close enough to touch her, just for a second, but when he swipes his hand at her shoulder to grab on, he just manages to miss her. He doesn't swear, but he's angry. Tate wouldn't have missed. Tate would have finished this already. ]

[melodramagic]

Help!

[ She screams as loud as her lungs can allow, her piercing shriek echoing into the cool, night air. If it weren't for the hurried, heavy sounds of her footsteps and whatever it was trying to close in on her, it might have been eerily silent this time of night. Sabrina calls again, but this time, she's certain she hears someone slam a door shut quickly, as if afraid for their own life. A window also shuts somewhere above her in the apartment she darts past.

She's on her own. Those cries for help only serve as a warning to others nearby.

It makes her all the more terrified, her mind racing as she tries to think of where to go, what to do. She doesn't know Nonah all that well and it shows in how she runs into wherever there's an open path. There's little sense of direction, her movements frantic and desperate; anything to get as far from this thing as possible.

Sweat trickles down her forehead, her underarms feeling warm and damp, heart in her rib cage ready to burst. If it's not the fear, it's the adrenaline beginning to wear out the further she runs. Sabrina can even feel a stitch in her side and her breathing more laboured, louder. She's running out of time. She needs to do something.

There's a breeze far too close behind her neck. It must have come close to grabbing onto her.

The cat hisses loudly again, veering around to face the suited man and barrels down at him with uncanny speed, precision and strength. Salem uses his front paws to slam into Michael's chest and pin him to the ground temporarily to buy Sabrina some extra time to put more distance between them. ]

Salem!

New Roomie Thread

[psychophilia]

[ She's not naked, but it's a pretty close thing. It was damn hot. Hotter than it'd been in Florida- and how the fuck did that work? Not that, Texas gal she was, she wasn't used to it. Her uncle had never been sober enough to afford keeping the AC working, even when there was power in the house. But just 'cause she was used to it didn't mean she didn't dress for the occasion: thin tank top over a sports bra and short shorts to sleep in. And she didn't have anywhere near something called 'modesty' to cover up when she, still sprawled on her back in bed, she just yelled back: ]

It's open.

[bloodprayer]

[ A tank top and bra is a vast improvement on Cassidy's whole "get your dick out and just leave it out the entire time you have a conversation with someone, it's cool, just whip that dick right on out" method of dealing with the heat, so when Michael carefully opens the door to Tulip's room with a mumbled apology, he doesn't really give a shit about Tulip's supposed modesty (or lack thereof). He just shuts the door behind him and nervously runs his hand over his neck, trying to figure out how best to start here. ]

Hey. Hi.

[ He's pretty sure he recognizes Tulip - he talked to her on the network, back when he first arrived. She was intimidating then, when he had the shields of anonymity and the internet buffering the two of them, and she's intimidating now, too. Michael's never really known how to deal with women who could very easily kick his ass. For now, he keeps his eyes on his feet while he talks. ]

So, um - I'm Michael. New. Sorry about the...

[ vague gesture. ]

Just - this is my fault. I think. The heat. So...