feedback: msnsc21[at]yahoo.com
Author: ML
Email: msnsc21@yahoo.com
Feedback: always gratefully received
Rating: adults only due to subject matter and certain
situations
Ep Reference: I'd say this occurs sometime late 3rd season,
after certain eps which will become clear as the story
unfolds.
Synopsis: M&S fight. Then they make up. Sort of.
Disclaimer: (to the tune of "Copacabana" - <eg>) His name is
Carter, he's the creator, but that was several years ago when
they used to have a show. Now I don't own them, but he's
not playing, so please don't sue me for having fun, I'm not
hurting anyone.
Note: Happy belated birthday to Rachel. I DP'd when giving
her greetings, and this is my penance. These are the elements
you requested, but the story didn't turn out the way I
expected. I think M&S pulled rank on me. Hope you like it,
all the same. I'll list the elements at the end.
No beta, because sometimes I like to live dangerously <g>.
====
~Somewhere in New Hampshire~
"If we miss our flight," Mulder said, "it will be his fault."
"If you need to blame someone, you can blame me," Scully
said. "I'm the one who stopped to help him." She kept her
eyes focused on the road. "Though if you really want to
blame anyone, you should blame yourself."
"Me? Why? What did I do?"
"You scared him, Mulder. If you hadn't come up on him so
suddenly, he wouldn't have run. And he wouldn't have
tripped on the curb and stubbed his toe."
"I had no idea that I was so scary. All I did was come around
the corner --"
"--at a dead run, Mulder. With your gun out. How else
would an eight-year-old boy react to something like that?"
"I thought I heard a scream," he explained for what felt like
the hundredth time. "Considering everything that's
happened in the past few days, it was a normal reaction."
They'd spent days in this little town, investigating
something the Gunmen had put them onto. Absolutely
checked out, they swore. "Manifestations out the wazzoo,"
was how Frohike had put it, and both Langly and Byers
had nodded solemnly.
He guessed what really came out of a wazzoo was swamp
gas, after all. He'd be giving the boys a piece of his mind
when they got back to civilization. At least it wasn't as bad
as the gas plant in Miller's Grove. Neither he nor Scully was
covered in dung, and that had to be a plus.
Not that there weren't plenty of odd things going on in the
little town. Nonetheless, they were ordinary odd things --
the usual complement of town eccentrics, including folks
who were either excited that something might be
"happening" in their little town, or who resented the
intrusion and were mulish and uncooperative.
"It's okay, Mulder, I forgive you, and I'm sure that Derek
does as well," Scully said. "I really think there was a serious
case of hero-worship starting up with him."
"With you or with me?"
"With you, of course. Big, tall G-Man that you are."
Scully was doing her best to cheer him up, but he wasn't
ready to be cheered yet. "A lot of good it does me. He's the
one who got your attention. It wasn't even bleeding."
"You should know from experience that stubbed toes hurt,
Mulder, bleeding or not."
He didn't reply, just chewed his lip thoughtfully. Scully
glanced over at him.
"You're pouting."
"Am not," he replied automatically, unable to stop himself.
Sometimes something in him made it difficult to agree with
Scully on even the simplest things.
"You are too," she said, "and you might as well admit it. You
always do this when a case doesn't pan out."
"And you don't?"
"No, I'm too busy trying to make you feel better," she
muttered, and she clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes
wide.
Mulder smoothly pulled over to the side of the road and
killed the engine. "Would you care to repeat that?" he asked
calmly.
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it. It
wasn't very nice."
"I don't expect nice from you," he said. "I expect the truth. So,
out with it. What exactly did you mean by that remark?"
"I thought you were worried about missing our flight," she
hedged.
Mulder looked at his watch. "Even if we broke all the speed
laws, we wouldn't make it. And frankly, considering our
track record, I don't like the odds." He settled back in the
seat, arms folded. "And how long have you harboured this
deep-seated resentment toward your partner? I'd venture to
say, quite a while."
Suddenly, she rounded on him. "Maybe I have, Mulder.
Would it make any difference to you one way or the other? I
don't see you changing, just because I call you on it."
"I just don't see it, Scully. I always thought that misery loved
company, and now I find that for you, once a case is over, it's
over. Period. You never give it another moment's reflection."
"That's not fair. And it's not what I said."
"Is it wrong to feel disappointed that something doesn't pan
out?" he changed tack slightly. He was like a dog with a
bone now; he wasn't going to give this up until someone got
his or her hand nipped. Or slapped. Or something.
"Of course not, Mulder, I --"
"But I'm forgetting that every case that goes nowhere is
another notch in your belt, right? Something to report back
to your superiors." He made his finger a gun and blew the
smoke from it. "Another one bites the dust," he squealed in a
very poor imitation of the song.
"You promised that you'd never bring that up again!" she
hissed, anger rather than regret now sparking in her eyes.
"Crying foul, Agent Scully? Are you going to complain
because I don't fight fair?"
It got very quiet in the car. Also very cold.
"No," she said, suddenly very calm, and then pursed her lips
and turned away from him.
He shrugged and started the car again. "Whatever."
Scully gave him the silent treatment all the way to the motel,
and when she came back with the keys, he noticed that they
were on opposite ends of the building.
Fine. He'd just go find his own dinner, and Scully could do
what she liked.
In her own room, Scully fumed. Maybe saying what she did
wasn't the most well-considered remark in the world, no
matter how often she'd thought it. But Mulder really hit
below the belt with his rejoinder.
Maybe it was better this way. They haven't been getting
along all that well lately, and maybe it took a blow-up like
this to clear the air.
Sure it did. She heard a car peeling out of the parking lot and
looked out the window just in time to see Mulder driving
away.
x-x-x
When his phone rang in the wee hours of the morning,
Mulder was sure it was Scully, calling to apologize.
"Agent Mulder," Skinner's voice sounded unnaturally loud
in his ear.
"Yeah -- yes, Sir," he mumbled.
"I understand you're already in New Hampshire on another
case."
"Yes, we were on our way home but got, uh, delayed," he
said, rubbing his hand over his eyes. How did Skinner know
this? Scully must have called him, of course.
"You shouldn't be far from the town of Comity. You've been
requested to investigate a string of occurrences there."
"What kind of occurrences?"
"It's my job to make assignments," Skinner said. "It's your job
to figure them out." The phone went dead.
Mulder stared at it sleepily for a few moments before
heaving himself out of bed and heading for the shower.
Scully was going to love this.
When Scully heard the banging on the door she was sure it
was Mulder, come to apologize.
She was half right.
No one had any right to look as wide-awake as he did at
such an ungodly hour of the morning. "Got a call from
Skinner. They're expecting us the next town over," he said.
"What for?" she asked.
"Guess it's our job to find out," he said over his shoulder as
he headed for the car.
x-x-x
~Two Days Later~
Now Leaving the Town of Comity, New Hampshire, the
sign said.
She was never so glad to see the back of a town. She'd
thought the case before this one was bad, but Comity was
worse.
Neither of them spoke for several miles. Scully began to
think that she had, in fact, taken the wrong road. No way in
hell she was going to admit that to Mulder, however.
Besides, the more miles they got away from Comity, the
better she felt.
Mulder looked out his window at the moonlit landscape.
Maybe he didn't have the best sense of direction in the
world, but in this instance, he was sure that Scully was
taking them father away from civilization instead of toward
it. But he wasn't going to say anything, not one thing.
At last, Scully could see some lights up ahead. Civilization at
last. A Holiday Inn, and if she wasn't mistaken, an all-night
restaurant. She glanced over at Mulder. He sat slumped in
his seat, head against the window. Was that drool at the
corner of his mouth?
Didn't matter. She'd never say anything to him. She tapped
him on the shoulder tentatively. "Mulder? Mulder, we're
here."
"Hunh?" He said indistinctly. He turned toward her blearily
and inertia carried him all the way to flop against her
shoulder. He snored gently.
"Mulder." She felt an inexplicable tenderness toward him.
She flicked a finger gently against his cheek. "Wake up.
Food. Lodging."
"'Kay," he mumbled.
"Wait there," she said, pushing him gently away from her
shoulder. His eyes blinked a little at her as she got out of the
car.
There was no trouble obtaining rooms, even at this late hour.
She checked them in and when she got back to the car,
Mulder was awake.
"I could get used to this sleeping in the car thing," he grinned
slightly. It was a tiny olive branch, maybe only one leaf, but
it was a start.
Mulder noted that their rooms were side by side this time.
He carried Scully's bag for her, and waited while she opened
her door and turned on the lights. Satisfied that all was as it
should be, he went to his own door. He paused only long
enough to put his bag down inside, then went to knock on
Scully's door.
"Want to grab a bite?" he asked when she answered.
Scully smiled and they walked across the parking lot
together to the restaurant.
The restaurant was brightly lit, but almost empty this time of
night -- or, more properly, morning. Scully turned down the
offer of coffee and asked for hot tea. Mulder decided to go
for broke and asked for his iced.
While they waited for their orders, Mulder played with the
sugar packets, not sure what to say to Scully. Things had
been strained between them lately, to say the least. He could
be a big man and admit that it was as much due to him as to
Scully, but that didn't make this any easier.
Across the table from him, Scully watched Mulder's long
fingers move packets around aimlessly. Aimless to her,
anyway. She couldn't always see the reason why he did
things, but he usually seemed to have a reason. She just
wasn't sure it was always a good one.
Still, making cracks about his reaction to their cases was
kind of a low blow. She didn't have to comfort him; that was
her decision. Maybe it was her indirect way of dealing with
the frustration of some of their cases. Offering comfort was a
twofold benefit, she'd always heard: it did both the
comforter and the comforted good. And it wasn't like he
expected it. She noticed that he often made personal
comments in a way that deflected the personal. As if when
things got a little too intense, he had to defuse the situation
somehow.
Interesting theory. She wondered if she'd ever have the guts
to call him on *that*.
It might be fair to call him on it, but it would only have
made things worse in recent days. She had the feeling that
anything either of them had said or done in Comity would
have come out wrong. As it was, they'd both said things
better left unsaid and the whole situation had escalated from
bad to worse.
She didn't even want to think about Detective White.
They both looked up at the same time and said, "I'm sorry."
They grinned at each other. "We couldn't have timed that
better if we'd tried," Mulder said.
"No," Scully agreed.
"We really know what buttons to push, don't we?" he
continued. "And I did my best to push them all the past
couple of days."
"You got some good ones in," Scully said.
"So did you," Mulder said. "You know what they say: you
always hurt the one you love."
Scully looked down at her steaming tea, but Mulder thought
it was more than the hot beverage that made her face pink.
"Did I hurt you?" Scully asked softly after a moment. "I
didn't mean to, really."
It took him moment to realize that she'd actually taken his
bait. Did she realize what she'd just admitted? In a very non-
direct, non-committal way that is. He couldn't have done
better himself. "Well, we could blame it all on the
misalignment of the stars," Mulder ventured.
Scully's expression told him what she thought of that theory.
"Or, we could really talk about what happened for a
change," she countered surprisingly.
"Now there's a novel idea," Mulder joked.
"Seriously, you know that we always just store these things
away, but eventually they come out. And at the worst
possible time," Scully pointed out.
Mulder nodded, and took a long drink of his iced tea. He
wasn't sure this was a good idea after all.
"I *do* care about how our cases turn out," Scully said. "But I
also care about my partner. And sometimes you're so
affected by the outcome, you can't see the larger picture."
"Which is?" Mulder asked.
"That the case is generally solved, even if not in the way you
thought it would be."
"I think we've established that sometimes that's a matter of
opinion," he said.
"Or a matter of scientific fact over speculation," she
contradicted.
"Simply put: we agree to disagree," Mulder said.
"Well, that's how you see it," Scully said.
"We're still agreeing to disagree here, Scully. You're not
going to change your stance any more than I am. But I think
it's one of the things that makes us such a great team."
"Just don't think that I'm not as affected by the cases as you
are," said Scully. "Disagreeing doesn't mean dismissing."
"I know that. I do," he said.
"We're not going to change each other," she said.
"No, but maybe sometimes we can meet each other halfway,"
he suggested.
"Maybe," she said with a smile.
x-x-x
How did they end up in Scully's doorway kissing? He wasn't
exactly sure. One moment they were walking back from the
restaurant, and the next moment he'd taken her key from her
hand to open her door for her. Their hands brushed, she
turned her face to his, and that was all it took.
Without letting go of each other, they stumbled into Scully's
room. Mulder managed to catch the edge of the door with
one foot and push it closed, never removing his hands from
under Scully's coat. Her hands were busy at his tie, then his
collar button.
This coming together had nothing to do with a misalignment
of stars. This was meant to be. He'd known it from the
moment she'd darkened his basement door, looking so
forthright and sure of herself, and almost making him blow
his cool right there on the spot. Two FBI geeks, striking
sparks off each other from the moment they laid eyes on
each other. A match made in heaven.
He'd thought about this in the past, more than once. What
he'd say to Scully, what she'd say to him. How he'd reveal
her body, layer by layer, savoring each small revelation as it
came. Hell, he'd even fantasized about what kind of
underwear she'd be wearing. Often, they were the same
plain cotton that she wore the night she dropped her robe in
front of him. Funny how she was more comfortable
revealing her skin than her feelings.
But his mind was wandering when he really wanted to be
concentrating on what was happening right now. Things
were moving way too fast to suit him; Scully seemed almost
as crazed as he did.
Scully wasn't sure what had gotten into her, but she didn't
want to stop. She was sure if she said anything, opened her
mouth for anything other than kissing Mulder, the whole
thing would fall into ruins. Therefore, she did her best to
keep her mouth occupied with Mulder.
Her fingers, usually so precise and careful, fumbled at
unfamiliar buttons and fabrics. Mulder caught at her hands,
replacing them with his own to unfasten his shirt and then
his belt. She moved her hands to his head, pulling him down
to kiss again, then putting her fingers against his mouth,
afraid he'd speak and ruin everything. His lips closed
around her fingers and he drew them into his mouth,
sucking them gently, and her knees nearly buckled.
Mulder had been slowly backing her toward the bed -- or
had she been leading him? -- and now her calves felt the
mattress behind her. She sank gratefully down on it and
Mulder followed, gracefully landing next to her without
ever losing the grip he had on her. He was just as intent on
undressing her as she had been on undressing him moments
before.
She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the sensation of
Mulder touching her. She felt the warmth of his fingertips
through the fabric of her blouse as he unbuttoned it, then the
slightly rough drag of them over her exposed skin, outlining
the edge of her bra but not going beyond it. Her feet were
flat on the floor, and she thought hysterically of the nuns'
admonitions in high school about making out with boys. Her
feet were flat on the floor, sure, but she was still flat on her
back. Mulder reached around to unfasten her skirt and she
arched her hips up off the bed to make it easier. He yanked
the skirt down and then returned to roll her pantyhose off,
along with her underwear, in one smooth motion. He stood
up long enough to shuck off the rest of his clothes. Scully
scrambled backward on the bed, never taking her eyes off
Mulder as he straightened up and she saw him fully (and
healthily) naked for the first time.
He grinned self-deprecatingly as he noted her expression,
but said nothing. He enjoyed his own view of Scully, now
scrambling backward on the bed -- not to get away from
him, but to pull the scratchy spread down. She was still
wearing her bra and he was grateful she hadn't removed it
on her own. He'd been saving it for last, a treat like whipped
cream on chocolate pudding.
It was slightly chilly in the room, but not enough to account
for the way she was trembling. She registered the increase of
warmth as Mulder lay down beside her, but it did nothing to
decrease her trembling, which seemed to have started
somewhere in her solar plexus. She turned toward him to
kiss him, raising one shaking hand to stroke his face. His
arms came around her, caressing her skin. He lowered the
straps of her bra one after the other, letting his palms and
fingers glide over her skin and around the outside swells of
her breasts. She could barely breathe, waiting for his next
touch.
She felt one of his hands release the back clasp of her bra and
then he was slowly sliding it down her arms. There was
nothing left now between them. He took a moment to gaze
upon what he'd just uncovered and then lowered his mouth
to one nipple, bestowing a tiny kiss on its apex before
closing his mouth over her and pulling.
Stars exploded behind her eyes and she had to close them
against the sight of Mulder at her breast. Therefore she was
taken by surprise when she felt his hand at the other, fingers
brushing and kneading the sensitive point before trading
hand for mouth.
She didn't know what to do with her hands. She gripped the
bedsheets, but little by little relaxed and raised her arms to
touch him, brushing her hands through his hair, caressing
his face. She felt cool air as his mouth left her breasts and
traveled up to her lips, placing small kisses along the way.
Their mouths met again, and bodies moved incrementally
closer to each other, a gravitational pull.
As much as he was reveling in this, he had to say something.
He had to. He didn't want to wake up and find that this was
all just another fantasy borne of too many hours in the car
with Scully. So far she seemed pretty pleased with the way
things were going, but he had to be sure.
"Scully?" It was barely a whisper from him. He felt like he
hadn't spoken in centuries. She opened her eyes and turned
toward him, a glazed expression on her face. Was it lust?
Desire? A dream-state? He had to be sure.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked.
She closed her eyes and nodded, lips glistening from their
last kiss. "Mm-hm," she said, brushing her hand from his
waist to his hip. Her mouth sought his. "Yeah," she clarified.
"I don't want you to do anything you'll regret later," he
persisted, hoping she wouldn't take him up on his gallantry.
"No," she said breathlessly, hands wandering restlessly up
and down his sides. "Are *you* having regrets?"
"No, and I won't, either," he said between kisses. "Just
checking." He kissed her again, stroking her hair as his
mouth caressed hers. "This isn't considered 'comforting your
partner,' is it?"
Scully froze and pulled away from him, turning her back to
him.
He hadn't been having any regrets, but he sure was now.
After a moment, he reached over and put his hand on her
back. Her lovely, smooth, bare back.
Big regrets.
"Hey," he said softly. "I didn't mean it."
She turned over and he could see tears glittering in the
corners of her eyes. He'd rather she shot him. She sat up,
gathering the sheet around her. "Maybe a small part of you
does. Are you sure it's not like what you said earlier? That
there has to be some truth in it? Why else would you say it?"
"Stupidity," he said. "Pure and simple. But I'm sure that
you're right. I'm sure that there's a corner of my brain that's
screaming what a bad idea this is, and will do anything to
put a stop to it. I'm sure that there's a small part of you, I
hope just a small one, that's doing the same."
"If that's so, we've just had the mental equivalent of cold
water thrown on us, wouldn't you say?" she asked. "Maybe
we should listen to that small voice."
"Or not," he said. "How do you know it's your conscience?
How do you know it's not just fear?"
She considered his words for a moment. "It's true that I've
always been afraid that this might happen. That some day
I'd just go off the deep end and have my way with you, like
some crazed animal."
Now I know that my favorite dream was Scully's greatest
fear, Mulder thought. He got up off the bed, hunted around
for his boxers while Scully avoided looking at him.
An excruciating amount of time passed in silence as Mulder
found his scattered clothing, avoiding touching or even
looking at Scully's, which made the chore even more
difficult. When he had enough on to keep himself from
freezing outside, he said heavily, "I guess this is where I say
goodnight."
Scully was still having a hard time looking at him, but she
steeled herself to meet his eyes. "Goodnight, Mulder. For
what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"Me too," he said. "More than I can say." He turned toward
the door, and turned back, determined to bring some
lightness to the situation in his own way. "You're not going
to file a sexual harassment complaint against me, are you?"
Scully blushed and shook her head, letting her hair hide her
face. "If anyone should file one, it should be you. I'm the one
who instigated it."
That gave him pause. "You did? I thought I did."
"I kissed you first," she said. "I don't know what came over
me."
"Well, no harm done," he said lightly. None that he'd let her
see, anyway. "Try to get some rest."
Scully was still speaking. "Besides, as annoyed as I get with
you sometimes, and as you get with me, I know you'd never
do anything to hurt me. Not really."
"Absolutely," he said automatically, edging toward the door
before he did something unmanly.
"And I'd never do anything to hurt you. Because I do love
you."
His hand had been on the door, just about to turn the knob,
when any power to move was stolen by her words.
"Would you care to repeat that?" he asked softly, his back
still to her.
"Didn't you hear me?" she asked, and he thought that maybe
there was a hint of a smile in her voice.
"I have an eidetic memory," he said, "but I don't think I've
ever claimed to have superhuman hearing."
"I said," she repeated softly but very clearly, "that I love
you."
He finally turned around. Scully sat with the sheet still
wrapped around her, hair tousled and eyes bright. "Do you
mean, love me like a friend, or...?"
"Why don't you come over here and find out?" she said, and
he really could see the smile on her face this time.
"Do you take back what you said?" he asked.
She looked confused. "Which time?"
"When you said you were afraid of me," he said flatly.
"I never said that," she said.
"I heard you," he insisted.
"No, I said I was afraid of myself. You just weren't listening."
He waited to hear the words, "as usual," but they didn't
come. He guessed he didn't need to hear them.
"Guess I need to work on my listening skills," he said with a
small smile.
"I guess we both could," Scully admitted. "Now, could you
just shut up and come over here?"
He wiggled his eyebrows. "Are you coming on to me,
Scully?"
She merely smiled her enigmatic smile, and once he'd joined
her on the bed, there was no need to question anything else.
x-x-x
Daylight seeped in around the blackout curtains and outside
in the world there were sounds of doors slamming and cars
starting. Not so in Room 1013, where the only sound was
soft breathing and the sound of a coffee maker wheezing its
last drops of brew into the carafe.
Scully rolled over and opened one eye. "Mulder, what are
you doing?"
"Makin' coffee," he replied, and brought a cup over to her.
She looked even more adorably tousled than she had the
night before, and he was very glad to be there to see it. He
handed her a coffee and a kiss.
"Mm," she said. "I know I'm not dreaming."
"Why? Is the coffee bad?" he asked, settling in bed beside
her. He'd been parading around in the altogether for Scully's
benefit, but it was cold out there.
"No. But I think if this was a fantasy, there'd be no morning
breath," she said.
"I'll have you know I brushed my teeth," he said defensively.
"Not talking about yours," she said. Her answers tended to
be short and to the point in the mornings.
He turned her head toward him and kissed her softly once,
then again. "Hm, maybe it is a dream. I don't detect any
morning breath."
"Maybe you're biased," she said.
"Maybe I just like the way you taste," he said, pleased when
she blushed.
She sipped at her coffee for a moment and then asked,
"Where do we go from here, Mulder?"
"Barring another directive from Skinner, the nearest airport
and then home, I think."
She frowned. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."
"Yeah, I know. I was just trying to hold it off for a few more
minutes. We've never woken up together like this, and I
want to savor it." He took the coffee cup out of her hands
and kissed her very thoroughly, easing them both down on
the bed. "Is it too soon to ask if you like morning sex?" he
whispered in her ear. She shivered, which he took as a good
sign.
"I don't think I can go back to the way we were before last
night," she said. "But I don't know how we're going to
handle it."
"I think we'll do okay," he said. "I think you said it best last
night. Even when we disagree, we can usually find a way to
work things out."
"But this is different, isn't it? I don't want us to work out our
frustrations in bed. We are never going to totally agree with
each other, and this puts another level of complication into
our relationship." Scully flopped on her back and stared at
the ceiling.
"Are you saying you don't want this? That we need to go
back to partners and nothing more? Can you?" Mulder did
his best to keep an even tone.
Silence as Scully thought things over. Mulder could see the
gears turning in her head, and could only hope that the
outcome would be in his favor. Not that he'd give up easily;
he'd been patient so far, and he could be patient again. He
hoped he could be, anyway.
"I don't think so, Mulder," her reply came finally, and his
heart almost stopped.
"I think I need a little clarification on your position," he said,
barely daring to look at her.
"I don't think I can go back," she said, turning toward him
again.
"That's good to hear," Mulder said, aware of just how big an
understatement it was. "Especially since I just can't seem to
help myself around you."
"What do you attribute that to?" she asked.
"I don't know," he replied. "Poor impulse control?"
"Very flattering, Mulder," she said dryly, turning away.
"It's all part of my big plan," he said, turning her back to face
him.
"You planned this?"
"Well, not this specifically. I'm talking about the larger
scheme of things. I figure that neither of us can go very long
without one pissing the other off -- but I figure that the
make-up sex will be spectacular."
"You have a devious mind, Agent Mulder."
"Indeed I do, and thanks for noticing," he grinned, leaning
down for another kiss. "And you didn't answer my question:
how do you feel about morning sex?"
"It depends," she said, tracing a line down his chest.
"On what?" he said, capturing her fingers and kissing them.
"Whether it's morning or not," she replied.
"In that case," he said, "Good morning, Sunshine."
~the end~
Thanks for reading!
Additional notes: Rachel suggested Mulder, a stubbed toe,
and Scully making it all better. But once I started putting a
few words down on the screen, the characters sort of took
over. I hope you like the outcome all the same.