#133
Winter. Day 142. Late Evening. Lancet Mansion

We rode for some hours before we came upon the stables to Hestan. The ride was quiet and I had finally found my sleep along the way. My bleary focus cleared after Ginger forced me off the drozard. I noticed that the stable master was quite a bit less cheery than the one we had met in Pecken. Still, we carried on to the first main gate.

Hestan's walls, as with everything else in this kingdom, is massive and so are the walls that were placed further in. The Sky Spear is behind the fifth wall, but I still feel like it would take another day to get there. It is both mind boggling and sobering to think about. If I craned my neck up and squinted my eyes hard enough, it's peak was still invisible.

Hestan is far different than Pecken. While everything was finer and grand and flowed like a whirlpool, it was troubling how quiet it was. As if noise troubled the guards and disturbed Sky Spear. Strange how that would be with its five layers of great walls each gated three times over with steel lattice. Those gates were incredibly quiet too. As if a breath made stone and iron crumble.

While there was bustle, it was silent. Every one moved along keeping to themselves, their eyes low and fixed, dark and dull. What merchants and traders there were, they didn't call out to the wandering crowds and waited for some stirred interest instead. Our little group blended in well among these crawling crowds. We'd take one street and depart to turn down another. For a time, I felt trapped in boxed maze and the homes and walls only stood to make one cower. Suffocatingly so.

As such, seeing Clear Wing's manor was much needed fresh air. More so once we got inside. His mansion was like any other, filled to the brim with seemingly useless luxuries. Luxuries some find themselves to enjoy only in conversation or inspiration. Only the shape of the shortly pointed and ribbed halls caught my eyes. Their work of dark wood and strange smell matching the musty narrow rug. The single chandelier held a single pitched torch, its smoke through a small vent directly above. Though poorly lit, it was still a fair sight better than what was outside.

Clear instructed Ginger and I to wait a bit. If we were going to act as nobles, when needed a nice bath. I still had that soot staining my fur. Nearly forgot. A maid fetched us with word, mildly excited to see Ginger but shot me down with her eyes. Daggers they are, steel blue and brown edged. Her pale brown mane and tail were cut short but her fetlocks were kept long. Across her coat were dark stripes like Zecora's. Where the white should be, taken by an even darker color.

The maid brought us to the bathhouse. Inside it split into two paths brightly lit and respectively, they parted the genders. The maid pulled Ginger away and I was left alone. I went around the lit corner, brazened bright in gold and tan paints and white tiled floors. I stripped myself of my bags and noble robe, piling them on a shelf beside stacks of white towels and rags. Each embroidered with Clear's family crest.

I grabbed one and headed for a doorway further in, curtained with folding reeds. On the other side, a small square bath carved into the floor, filled with water. Soap and shampoo and conditioner of all sorts lined the opposite side. I can imagine the reasons why but I would never have need for such a selection. There's another two small pools like this beside me, unconnected and lined the same. I suppose if there's multiple folk that choose to use the baths at once, it was possible.

I placed the towel on a nearby metal stand, foggy by the pool's steam and slowly lowered myself in. The warmth chilled and shocked me at first but I forced myself and relaxed. I soaked for awhile then moved on to scrub what. At the end of it, the soot failed to fall away completely. It would take time instead of a bath. I dried off and redressed, feeling refreshed and then waited in the hall for Ginger to come out.

Clear Wing came by and took me away before that could happen however. Guided me to my room with useless chatter. It's similar to the Teal Deer's room Ginger and I stayed in, only larger and far more luxurious. The bed had a canopy and enough room for three. Drapes and blankets of silk and linen. Pillows softer than sheep's fur with threads finely sown, stitching small as a bead. Floors and walls in the darkest wood and light brought on by oil lamps clung to the walls.

There's a window too, looking to the Sky Spear. A clear view too, but it still held no sight of its tip. The clouds guarded the point and held nothing but dread. Even with the setting sun painting them orange and blue they held it. I imagine Nutmeg is sitting atop it, staring down either without a care or lost in them.

In my thought, a knocking at the door. I opened it to see those dagger eyes again. They gazed at me differently this time. Through and thorough instead of glancing. She gave an asking look, compelling me to welcome her. I did and she let herself in, closing the door behind her lightly as she could.

I watched as she moved to the bed with a flow to her body. Like a slow creek over stone. She took off her dark orange dress frilled white at the hem with a stroke of her hoof. She glanced back at me, invitingly and pushed the thin purple drapes aside. I stared at her, confused but the curiosity gripped me. Drawn in, I joined her on the bed with her eyes never breaking from mine. I lied on my hooves, head up and eyes back at her.

She moved quietly took one of my wings, forced it to splay outward to feel my feathers. Did the same with my other wing, pausing when she came across the missing feather from my small fight. Folded them back and coursed her hoof through my mane. She placed her forehead against mine and whispered a rhyme beneath her breath. I felt my mind start to become prodded and tugged and an unbearable itch fell through my entirety.

Pulling away, gasping as if the air had left her. Then I saw one of those wisps that have been eluding my sight. It floated around her head, danced even. She reached at my chest and pulled one from me. An odd feeling, like string through the hoof. She brought them together and they fought and ruptured until they became one. I was a fair bit more confused now than before. “Hear me?” Her voice came through without a twitch of her lips.

I nodded. My mind began rambling with questions. “How?”

“Ritual, ages old in my tribe.” Chose her words carefully. “You brought Ginger safely home. Happy.” Her expression remained unchanged. “You will be leaving after this. Find king. Yes. Happy. Everyone. Then go home. You have matters of your own.”

“I do.” Felt myself speak like she did. “Can you teach me this?”

“Cannot. Learn on own, you will.” Answered before I could ask, “Find it, you will.” She brought her nose closer to mine, blinking once. “Teach you this I must.” She pulled the wisps apart and forced my half back into my chest where it slowly dissolved. With that smooth movement she leaned in and forced her lips to mine. Her old lips sent chills down my spine, my hooves trembled. I could feel my life being sucked from me until heart and mind caught aflame.

I kissed back, my eyes closed as my body became overwhelmed by desire. To have her as my own. Love her continuously through many nights. To care for and protect. To marry and bear children with. And care for nothing else. It was a delightful ecstacy, those thoughts. As I sought to bring her on her back, I felt something in my mind break. A wall crumbling under the force of water. Then the feel of daggers behind my eyes. I reeled away, gripping at my eyes. The fire snuffed by storms.

She looked on while I continued trying to pry my eyes away. The feel of them thorned the sockets and angered me. Panic set in then too. Ringing grated my ears until I became breathless. My legs collapsed and sought to speak, my lungs failing that. My head found the pillow beside her. She smiled at me. “Good.” she smiled.

I coughed. “Why... Why all this?” I found myself recalling the feeling when my mother's other half had instilled the burden of the Designer's script. The hallucinations that had set in after and the aching I became infuriated with.

“Good heart. Treat them both well.” She turned over, daggers of her eyes dulled. “After waking, you will know the deed.” Put on her dress, smooth as grass in the wind. “Find your answers carefully, Letter.”

She left me like a dead fish on a dock. I can already see the nightmares settling in. Making their homes out my fears and thoughts I never had. Forging their teeth from perpetual lies and anger. Their claws sharpened by the grindstone. Eyes deeper than the Grand River's fog. And now, as my eyes tire and fade, they forge their weapons from my kindness.

#134
Winter. Day 143(?). Morning. Lancet Mansion.

I was right about my nightmares. Some too vague to remember clearly, another batch that frightened me but I couldn't remember. Piercing pains the thorned vines entangling me in my dreams still felt fresh and new. Their poison reeking my breath and sodded my mind. The maid's kiss burned the edge of my lips. I awoke to that feeling, tucked under the thick blankets of the bed. Tightly too, a bear would have to tear them away.

I found my journal at my side, quill and well placed delicately. So softly they didn't budge the covers. After finding my strength, I forced my forelegs free though the pain ached in every movement. My wincing didn't help either. What the maid has done, I haven't a clue. What I do know is that I need an answer from her. Figure out what riddle she's giving me. She knew my name and of Apricot. Find my answers carefully. My thoughts are still scrambled and I still don't have the answer I should. Perhaps I've woken up earlier than expected.

Alas, that appears to be wrong. My eyes caught a slow shift of a fold in my journal's pages. They'd only done so when I went to close the book. I opened them up as my eyes started aching. What unveiled after unfolding the paper were directions to the Bibliotheca and how to get the books I needed. On the other side was a short note from the maid, “You are a great lover. Shame about your memory and mother. Let go. You will have to. -Daggresa” At the least, I know her name now. Still, the sleeping part is confounding.

For now I intend to rest my mind, if I can at all.

#135
Winter. Day 147. Morning. Lancet Mansion.

I stirred awake by the sound of birds. Small scarlet things fluttering about in their thinly rodded cage. I can recall their quick songs from my dreams. I found my journal and quill where I'd left them. They held me in a far nicer place, a garden so grand it ceased to end. I was there alone, treated kindly by some face I can't remember. Ethereal mane and tail is the most I can recall. If there's a princess of dreams, then she's found me. Whether that should bring a smile or a frown, I hadn't a clue.

Relatedly, there a mixture of another dream there. Left me breathless and panting, hungering for more. The memories are flashes and glimpses, but my muscles could recall the movement. The sway of my hips and the ache in my gut. The quaking in my shoulders and a final tremble of my body. As I think about it, I could very nearly hear a moan and my lips burning. “Daggresa.” I recalled. She had taught me sex. Something I had never put much thought into even having heard lewd tales from old friends. Why she had impaired me is something I still have to find out.

“You're awake, I see.” a low voice whispered from my side. All too familiar, that whisper. “Your quill, is noisy.”

I shot her a glance. “Daggresa, could you explain? Can you?” I felt a strangeness on my lips then, not quite making familiar movements.

“It's been explained.”

Impatience climbed my throat, I held it down, “You've had me sleeping then. With your poison kisses.”

“Poison? Ni.” she refuted.

“Then why was I asleep and sick?”

“Sleep? You never were. Lost yourself, you did. Consumed by lust and sweet anger. A beautiful thing.”

It made me smile, as if part of me knew what she meant. Part of me confused still. “And the nightmares I had?”

“I know not of them. You fell ill, the first time. You ran mad with a fever. Too long in the baths, I think.”

I am accepting of her answers. She didn't lie, the way she spoke told me she didn't have the capacity to. Still I wonder what drove us together. A bemusing thought and memory. “What's with the birds?” Again, my tongue made unfamiliar movements. At least, I felt like they did.

“I brought them. My pets. Ginger asked me to watch over you. So...” she trailed off. A first.

“You brought them as something to do.” It made me wonder though, if the bland nature of the streets outside was merely a mask and what's kept locked away behind doors is where all their joy lies. Caged and singing from closed windows. “Understandable. Has Ginger made any progress?”

“Her sisters, they've busied her. Clear Wing busies himself far more.”

I lured my mind away from that. “The Bibliotheca, can you help me with that?”

She remained silent. I almost repeated my question, she answered. “I can. You need rest.”

“I feel wide awake, more than ever.” I went to move my back legs, they failed. She raised an eyebrow, silently laughing at me. My cheeks warmed. “I guess I do.” My mind ached a bit, I could feel its exhaustion. “How long has it been, anyways?”

“Four days since.” She traced a hoof down my foreleg. “Never have I seen one sleep that long.”

I conversation ended there. I continued my writing, she seemed to listen to what music my quill strokes made. If there's even music there. Still held a wonderment for my wings too. Never seen a pair as big as mine, nor as graceful. I am still unsure about how sex came about and I'm nervous to ask. I recall how I felt when she first kissed me, when I loomed over her. I'm curious about the ritual of hers, to take a wisp and bend it to her will. What even are these wisps?

#136
Spring. Day 148. Noon. Lancet Mansion.

I've set to exploring some of the study in the mansion, Daggresa lead me there. Not a single book in regards to the tower. Odd considering that it's the middle of this damned city. I have found a multitude of history books and genealogies, that's a new word, of the royal and most noble lines. Hestan is ancient and comparing it to what memory I have of Canterlot, this kingdom has it beat. It's borders began at the tower and stretched outward until it claimed each of the cities it now holds within this bowl of land. Again, any mention of the tower seems hard to find. Sure they've named it and they know it's been there longer than the kingdom has but I can't help the feeling that it's purpose has been kept from the citizens.

When I bored myself with the history, I sought to find anything related to the wisps. A foul search, honestly. I cursed a few times when my eyes couldn't find the words. Daggresa found it for me, while sat still in a chair, calming myself. She took her own time reading fairy tales. Should I called them that now, given the facts? I suppose it wouldn't matter.

When my eyes ached, I asked her about a few of the stories. One told me the story of a boy who caught the name of the moon in a box. Which explained the waxing and waning of it and why it hung during the day. Another was of a mare who was crowned a princess. She had a kingfisher as a pet. There was a difference between hers and my mother's, the kingfisher was more a ghost than a solid thing and there was never a river. Instead it was at the docks of an ocean. Ended all the same. Lastly, a story of a colt whose mother had harmed him and run away. He found her years later and forgave her despite her wind keeping him at bay.

I nearly cried at the last one, knowing the feeling. I wanted to cry, I did. Perhaps I've become tired of it.

I've barely been able to see Ginger. Part of me wants to believe that she's being kept away from me. The other is accepting the facts of family. She has a lot of catching up to do after all. I wonder if she tires of dresses. This robe of mine has become irritable. Any speck of dirt seems to crawl its way throughout and make it that way. I haven't a clue about Clear Wing. I assume he's on matters far more important.

On another note, I've received another letter. This one from Princess Luna, she's found me through my nightmare. Saved me from its killing. It was difficult for her not to transform back into Nightmare Moon. I'll have to apologize for that. While her sister was delighted, honestly strange, that she found me, she's unable to come down to this part of the world from the moon. Tomorrow she would try one of the routes I had mentioned in my letters. I'm hopeful for her arrival, anxious even, but I still have business here.

#137
Spring. Day 149. Evening. Lancet Mansion.

It seems that Clear Wing was out collecting the information for his plan to usurp the arena. Well, more than what already has. Daggresa and I have continued research of our own. Making way to the Bibliotheca and what we found helped us more than Clear's study. I found more information on the tower. It was something that was found incomplete and ruined. There's discrepancies and some debate between the state in which it was found.

One says that it was already completed before but destroyed and the other hints that it was still heavily incomplete. The on thing that they did agree on was the true purpose of the tower is a mystery. I had an itching what it could be, a Design. Which is still questionable. I read more into some of the discoveries that came about with tower. One in particular struck me as rather interesting, a mechanism that folded and unfolded according to a predetermined shape. They hadn't figured out how it actually functioned however. Where it's wound up, wasn't mentioned.

On another note, I've realized that it's spring or close to the season at home. Which may explain the reasoning behind my sudden sexual desires. Spring fever a bit too literally, to be honest. It is a wonderful feeling though, sex I mean. Especially when you're awake for it. I can imagine the ways where that sweet anger wouldn't be the case, however. Still, I wonder why Daggresa is so accepting of me. She seemed at first, rejecting of my presence. It wasn't until after the fever she flipped sides. I haven't had the time to sit and think about it. These books and my continued translation work have kept my nose in a book.

Books are such wonderful things. There's so much knowledge and wonderment there, entire worlds written and scrawled onto pages and bound so carefully. At home they look all the same aside from color and title. Here all the books are glorified and treated with utmost care. It's a good thing that all this knowledge is so well cared for.

The Bibliotheca is a wondrous place too. Pillars and walls of pure white marble softened by age. Steel rails lining the grand stair to the wide entrance lined in gold flaking. Inside, was an expanse large enough to hold a good half of Ponyville. More if it was spliced and stacked. Inside, polished white oak laid out in the longest planks. The front desk was much the same, long and curved, only stained a shade darker.

Onward from the desk, the walkway turned into a balcony overlooking two lower floors and overshadowed by five more. A series of intricate glasswork kept the entire place alight until the sun faded away. When the sun did set, the Bibliotheca seemed to hold its light, keeping just enough to read a book without candlelight. The shelves here are a bit strange though. They run up through each floor and appear to actually help hold up the roof of the building itself. Two birds with one stone. Stairways connect each floor, each having an accompanying ramp for those unable to walk. I can't imagine this place being built by the folk here, too mismatched. Nevertheless, I can imagine Twilight would absolutely love this place. She does live in a library, after all.

Daggresa and I left the Bibliotheca after the sun set today, she issn't wearing the maid uniform I've grown accustomed to seeing her in. Instead she's worn something more of a regular attire, it helped her blend in more or less. The amount of respect given to the Clear Wing house is great. Got us a free pass into the library and a restaurant. And with Daggresa's different attire, I noticed that we were treated more like a couple rather than master and servant.

It feels wrong. I'm essentially dating another mare but there's not really love. The concept of sex to me always has the connotation of love with it. I've never seen it without or heard, for that matter. Daggresa, perhaps, is teaching me. If Apricot were to ask, it's going to be hard to answer. I was so lost in thought about the scenario that I don't remember the walk back to the mansion.

Ginger greeted us at the door, tired and exhausted and dressed in something only royalty would wear. I can't seem to recall specifics right now. She pulled Daggresa and shooed me away. I continued on to my room and began writing. Worked on organizing my mother's scrollwork. It's taking awhile as each piece progressively gets more scrambled. I've no idea why she would make this so hard. It's frustrating, honestly.

Aside from that, I received a short letter from Ginger, she had slipped it under the door. Seems we'll be headed out to the arena tomorrow. Clear has devised a plan of sorts for it as well. Using his position he's gotten us seats near Nutmeg. Says she'll explain it more in the morning. She also wrote in that she would be stopping by later, after she's done dealing with one of her sister's shenanigans. I suppose while I wait I can bore myself with one of the books in the desk here.

#138
Spring. Day 150. Noon. Lancet Mansion.

Ginger showed up at my room last night, true to her word. I opened the door to see her without her dresses and dowry. Only her heirloom strung from string around her neck. She looked beat, I can understand the feeling. Ponyville kept me busy when I had my extended stay. She plopped herself on the bed with a sigh. Closing the door I thought to ask the obvious, but refrained knowing what she might answer with.

“Daggresa treated you well, I hear. You treated her well too despite not being in a proper state of mind. I haven't had the chance to tell you that you'll need to forgive her for the spell.” I closed the door and locked it well. “I asked her to give you our language.”

“That would explain why my lips don't feel the same.” I mused. “The fever I ran had didn't help, I'm sure. Tell me, does sex involve your language too?” I asked, slowly approaching the bed.

“No, that's something else. Something different. Do you recall how many times?”

“Three or four. It's all a bit hazy.” She turned herself upright on the bed. “You're aware of that, I'm sure.”

“By Daggresa's count, six.” Turned the headboard and pulled a bottle of wine out from a hidden compartment. A small thing tucked away behind the small painting of the tower above the headboard. “She's says you're great.” She slammed the compartment shut, the hinges squealed from their disuse. She the tip of her hoof and uncorked the bottle. “This is something hidden in every room here. Have you tried wine?”

“I may have tried some at the tavern. I don't remember a taste.”

“Try it.” she turned and pointed the mouth of the bottle at me. “Slowly. It's not made to swig.”

I pulled the bottle from her hoof and took a small sip. It was strong and the smell pungent. Elderberry, I think. I swallowed it, made me cringe too. “Eugh. Not my thing, unfortunately.”

“That it is.” She took a short sip and relieved her breath. She placed the bottle on the nightstand, resetting the cork and pulling me onto the bed. “Let's see how 'great' you truly are.”

“Ginger, you sure this is a good idea?”

She pulled me closer, her mouth by my ear. “I could've taken you at the tavern, Letter. I could have. You remember what the dock golem said? 'I am barbarian'”

“Are you sure you want to live up to that title?” I whispered back, half-jokingly.

“That and more.” She smiled, pulling away to gaze at my eyes in full. “You don't have to mention this to Apricot, if that worries you.”

“It will, even if I don't.” I was on top of her now, my chest against hers. “I don't like to lie.”

“We shall talk more of it later. You have such wonderful eyes, Letter. Like a calm setting sun.”

“Since whe-” was she a poet?

She cut me off with a kiss. We then rolled together in love and ecstacy and the two of us forgot about he world and all its trouble. Went on until we exhausted ourselves as night gleamed through the window. For hours after we stayed awake, quietly enjoying the warmth of each other. Slow caresses of hooves and mindless playfulness. Soon enough, we were both sleeping with the blankets loosely over us.

I slept well enough. Had that dream about the garden and the mysterious pony again. We talked more of curious things of normalcy. Lives lived without dramatic climaxes. Of friends new and old over cups of tea. Bits about each other and a few of our own stories. None that I can currently remember. I wonder the reason behind the dreams but they're so fleeting.

I awoke as soon as the sun began rising. As did Ginger. We attended breakfast together, alone and served by Daggresa. It was a bit awkward, I wanted more of them both. My mind constantly wandered with the thoughts as Ginger explained her sisters were doing. Snapped at me once or twice about not focusing on the conversation.

It seemed like a major coincidence that Clear Wing showed up as soon as we finished eating. Like he were spying through the keyhole and carefully listening through the boards. “Letter, Ginger, pack your things. We begin at noon. Letter, I must speak with you personally in my personal study.” Ginger and I glanced at each other, she nodded. I left the table and followed Clear out the the door into the sun-bleached halls.

I followed him to his door, where he sifted through his keys for the right one. A quick prick of joy when he found the right one. I tailed him through his door, gold plated in its framework and black iron keeping it all in place. I was practically on his coat tails until he stopped to take a seat in a luxurious green chair. He motioned me to sit across from him. I did.

A spell of silence lingered over as I watched him stuff and light his pipe. “I hear tell from the Bibliotheca's keeper that you've scoured through an enormous amount of old books there. Some forty in a day, I believe. Tell me, what were you looking for?”

I gazed at him a moment, searching for malicious intent, he hadn't had any from the start. It was the way he was speaking that triggered my suspicion. “I curious about the Sky Spear. It's purpose and existence seem much a mystery to the historians here. If the Sky Spear is truly using magic to shield the kingdom from a stranger's eyes, I thought some research would help me figure that out.”

“And?”

“Nothing.” I didn't want to tell him about the possibility of it being a Design. “I read about quite a few of the artifacts however. I'm sure you might have one.” It was a stupid guess but it paid off.

“That's a risky assumption, Letter.” He moved over to his desk and opened a drawer out of view. “Ah, here we are.” He mused. “I've done my best to keep it in good shape. Ginger tells me you've a knack for these things, am I wrong?” He brought forth a small and strange little square on top of simple white cloth.

“Not at all. May I?” He nodded. I gently picked up the object. It wasn't stone but some type of lightweight steel. “Have you any idea what it might do?” I asked as my eyes followed the coursing blue line that wrapped it.

“I haven't. Tinkered with it but alas, nothing. There's some writing there, but I can't read it.”

I squinted my eyes, looking hard at each side. Seemed no larger than a matchbox, had a rigid wheel half exposed and a latch on the side opposite. Then, my eyes caught a glimpse of etching in on one of the broader sides. Small and carefully carved. “You have a magnify glass, Clear?” He fetched one from his desk and quickly hopped back. I gleamed over the etching. Designer Script. I remembered what bolt said to me about the written language here and the similarity between the two. “This is Designer Script. Writing more ancient than your own.”

“What does it say?” He asked curiously.

“Give me a second.” I made out the words in my head, but they weren't clear enough. I got up from the chair and moved to Clear's desk and began scribbling on what loose paper he allowed. I muttered as I work, incoherently so. “Forgive me for I have ruined.” I looked up from the paper and stared at the wall, as if it held the answer. “It's a piece of a memory.” I brought the artifact level with my eyes and pressed my hoof against the latch. A sudden fling of the top third revealed more of its workings. Another half exposed wheel with a carefully angled piece of steel. I flicked the wheel and saw that flurry of sparks ignite into a into a single flame. “One better left alone, I feel.”

I released the small lever and the flame vanished. “Brought ruin? Left alone? What happened, I wonder.” Clear Wing's voice was layered with wonder and confounded thoughts.

“I don't know.” I set the artifact back down. “I'll find out. This artifact, same function as an oil lamp.” I turned to face him fiddling with his cane. “Anything else?”

“Nothing else. Although, a little bird tells me you've gotten awfully close with Ginger and one of my maids. In another situation I would scrutinize you for it however, laws are different here. I suggest taking a glance at our political history.” There was a subtle anger in his voice.

“If I can, I will.”

“Good. It will serve you well, I'm sure. As a forewarning: do not fight Nutmeg. Let me take care of it. Now get going, I can't stall this plan any longer. I'll meet you at the doors.”

“Yes sir.”

I hurried back to my room with vague memory. I packed what few things I had unpacked: my journal and writing tools. I threw a set of new robes lied out on my bed. More refined than the last, holding a cleaner look. I still wonder why they're taking me along if I haven't been filled in. Ginger's stubbornness, perhaps? I'll find out, I'm sure.