villagelogs | 065-071 » assign to oblivion / part iii

065-071 » assign to oblivion / part iii

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: Mathias Township proper
WHEN: Days 065-071
WHAT: The residents of Mathias reunite under unnerving conditions.
WARNINGS: (PM this account to have a warning added!)
NOTES: Plotting post over here!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross "Outside"

DAY 065-071
ASSIGN TO OBLIVION
“No matter how much time passes, no matter what takes
place in the interim, there are some things we can never
assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away.”
— Haruki Murakami

Only two days have passed since the town was fractured, leaving residents cut off from those they'd come to know and even care for. A mere two days of wandering the new streets, uncovering more secrets that continue to make little sense of this strange place. Two days with sunrises, sunsets, and nights that seem like any other.

And yet.

When residents wake on this third day, they will find that much has changed. All around them, wherever they may be, there are signs that time has passed without them. Dust covers everything, indoors and out, even areas that were spotlessly clean seemingly hours ago. The residents themselves are covered as well, dust clinging to their hair, skin, and clothing—

Clothing that they may not have been wearing when they went to sleep. Each resident, regardless of the state they were in previously, is now clad in a pair of white pajamas, with long pants and button-up shirts. Those who thoroughly explored Baneberry Hall will easily recognize these articles as identical to those well-stocked in the decaying great house. On top of this, the clothes they wore from home have disappeared, along with anything else they may have brought with them when they arrived or items from home that have been found within the borders of Mathias.

There is no sign that anyone has entered their place of shelter, nor is there any sign of what may have been done with these items or how they came to be wearing these clothes. The dust all around them is undisturbed, almost as if they had been sleeping there for quite some time, though it seems impossible for such a thing to have occurred naturally.

THE NEW ARRIVALS
The newest arrivals to Mathias will wake up on the lawn of Town Hall, at the center of the little town square. They, too, are bereft of any items from home and clothed in the identical white pajamas. There are shops all around them, with houses just beyond, and at first glance, everything seems almost picturesque. Except for the silence that is at times so complete as to be maddening... Welcome to Mathias.

SUMMERTIME
— When summer arrives, so too does an outdoor stand in front of the General Store. Sporting a handpainted sign proclaiming Whateley Farm, the stand is overflowing with a variety of produce: berries, plums, carrots, cabbage, cucumbers, green beans, leeks, onions, peppers, potatoes, zucchini, tomatoes, and garlic bulbs. These do not replace the produce offerings normally found inside the market, but they do behave strangely. The stand replenishes sporadically, sometimes every other day or every five days. There is no discernible pattern to when it replenishes, nor is there any sign of how it came to be there at all.

— With the now-complete reverse change of season, much of the autumn debris has cleared from around town. Only a few stray leaves and fallen branches remain, their crisp colors at odds with the warm summer days. The forest has also cleared of much of the fall detritus, making it easier to both follow the paths and potentially spy things that might be out of the ordinary.

CONDITIONS UPDATE
— THE WEATHER Summer has arrived in Mathias, bringing with it warm days that average 70°F and comfortably cool nights. The skies are clear throughout the week save for Day 68 when a light rain falls from a grey sky throughout the day.

— THE FOG has maintained its new boundaries.
— Residents may now wander the southern stretch of the forest surrounding Mathias Township — it is possible to leave the paths but potentially unwise to do so.
— The fog has also retreated from the western section of town entirely.
— Access to the northern section of the forest is still blocked beginning a few dozen yards past the treeline; this section of fog will urge residents to stay huddled within the town proper by inducing a physical reaction of panic and fear.

— DISAPPEARANCES AND DEATHS continue! Max Guevara and Liz Brundy have disappeared, and now that everyone is back together, residents will notice that Yennefer, Number Five, and Tony Stark have also vanished.

— ALCOHOL supplies have run dry, save for any dregs that have been squirreled away by individual residents. Moonshine can still be acquired by those in desperate need.

OOC NOTES
— UPDATES Don't forget to report updates as they come up! Changes to locations (like toppling a few bookshelves in the library), big plots you have coming up that will affect the game (parties, major property destruction, etc), or exciting discoveries that may tie into the game's mythology (even the things provided by the mod) are very helpful to have in one place so relevant page updates can be made. IC events are also helpful to know about in advance so they can be included in the log write-ups.

— MOD STATUS My non-RP life is busy and chaotic and I continue to ask for your forgiveness and understanding as game things continue to be slower, as I cannot promise timely mod responses beyond weekends and even that is not wholly guaranteed.

— ITEMS FROM HOME All items from home that characters would normally possess have vanished for this log and will return in the next. This includes clothing and possessions they had when they arrived in Mathias, items that were found in the rain, and items that were found in Baneberry Hall and removed from the property. Items from home that were left behind by other characters no longer in the game have also vanished. (All other items and clothing still remain, it is only items from characters' homes that have disappeared.)

— BANEBERRY ITEMS The items from home that were not removed from Baneberry Hall in the last log have vanished from the property. These items will not reappear in the next log. (Please be sure to comment in the appropriate spot on those logs about the state of your character's item for inventory purposes, ie whether they were removed from the property or left behind.)

— ACTIVITY CHECK Beginning with June's AC (posted at the start of July), all tags that consist of only dialogue will count as 0.5 points, not just those that occur in an inbox thread — this applies to both AC and AP totals. This adjustment is an extension of what has been in place since the start of the game: that all dialogue-only inbox tags counted for a half-point. Since such tags have occurred regularly in log threads as well, the half-point status is simply being extended to all tags regardless of location in order to be fairer in point distribution. (Examples will be provided in the AC post to assist with proper counting.)

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Malcolm had called himself Raylan's Dirty little Secret. What else was he asking, other than for Raylan to be out about it?

Whatever we are, I don’t want to be not here.

He couldn't breathe again, like he was pressed up against and into a rock with another on his back.

I love you, just not enough to tolerate all this.

"All I've got to offer is me. It's the only thing I've got," he said quietly. I can't be just friends. "I don't.. I don't do what I do with you, with friends Malcolm. I-"

He couldn't breathe Malcolm in every other night and curl up with him and give him everything and have some nebulous line that he didn't know where it existed. He couldn't imagine what not seeing Malcolm at all would feel like. He didn't want to. It felt like a slap that Henry had told Malcolm to say no. Is that what he really thought?

"If this is just about sex to you then I-" Was that what their whole relationship was settled on? "- That is not something I need. From any of you. Taking that out doesn't stop this - this is our relationship. The talking and the curling up at night and trusting each other with.." With everything. "The dancing we were supposed to do."

Malcolm wasn’t asking him for anything except more than ten percent of the space in that Dirty Little Secret spot. A dirty little secret was just what he was, not a request to be something else. A fact.

If this is just about sex to you…

Malcolm looked up at him with almost wild eyes as he talked. Suggesting his interest diminished to just that snapped something in him.

“Excuse me? If this is just about sex to me? That’s one of the key elements that makes this a romantic relationship instead of a close platonic one. You’re not someone’s lover if you don’t make love. It’s a physical extension of emotional intimacy, but the emotional intimacy has to be there. That’s the out I was offering you. We keep everything the same except that. But I’m taking that offer off the table now,” he said, suddenly defiant. “If it isn’t something you need from any of us, then stop sleeping with Tim. He can be your friend and I’ll be your lover. How about that? He’s only been here… what, a couple of weeks? You can pick up the record player when you go down to Philips to let him know. I’ll wait,” he said, stepping over to hop up on a kitchen island stool and fold his hands in his lap.

Before Raylan could say or do anything, he continued “Why should you get to do whatever or whoever you want and then dump the hard decisions in my lap two weeks later every single time so I have to choose retroactively whether I’m okay with being your third fiddle lover, anyway? I choose to keep you and everything about this. I want it. You gave it to me and I don’t want to hand it back. Tim’s the one that keeps telling me to tell you what I want; to just ask you to stay with me and you’ll stay. Well, I want you. I want to be selfish and I want you to be with me. Now you have to decide. Because I don’t even understand what you think you want. How did you think three boyfriends was going to work? When I agreed to the thing with Doc, was I agreeing to a completely open relationship? I don’t remember you saying that, but leaving you won’t make me happy. I know that. I know when I’ve been happy. You’ve seen it. Every time I see your face or hear your voice. So don’t you dare pretend you don’t have enough to offer in just yourself. You’re everything. I was with you first. If anyone hasn’t offered enough, it’s the person you’ve replaced twice since then!” he asserted, pointing at his own chest, tears threatening again. He squeezed his hands together in his lap, looking at the floor as he tried to recover his composure, but it was so far out the window now, it was a futile effort. “Why didn’t you talk to me first?” he asked in a strangled voice, still staring at the floor.

Tim said. Doc said. Ainsley or Klaus or someone else always said.

I don't do with friends what I do with you.

Raylan didn't stop Malcolm as he walked away, the spot on his chest where Malcolm had hit him still warm and pulsing, despite how soft the punch was. Raylan also wasn't sure what was still on the table. Malcolm wasn't his third fiddle lover. He hadn't been replaced. Nothing could replace him and seeing him in tears broke Raylan's heart just as much as having this whole conversation did.

"I don't have three boyfriends, Malcolm, I've got three men that I care deeply about, that I would murder to protect and take a bullet to save," he starts softly as he walks over to stand in front of him. He wasn't going to reach out, wasn't going to touch him, but he couldn't stay over where he was and still.

"I'm sorry I didn't talk to you first. I picked up the pieces of him without thinkin' about it. I wanted to give him time to pull his head out of his ass. To give him time to stop blaming you for somethin' you didn't do. To give y'all time to figure out how to talk. To give him time to.. decide if he could handle it. If he'd said he couldn't.." Well, they wouldn't be where they were. But it wasn't Tim's fault. It was Raylan's. He took and let out a deep, uneven breath.

"There is no replacing you. No one can do that. And I am not trying to say that I don't have anything to offer. Only that I am all I have to offer. Malcolm, I'm.. not emotionally intimate with friends. Being friends like that here involves picking you both up out of your nightmares and trauma and giving you a solid, safe place to unravel until you can get up and keep moving again. I only mention sex because that.. doesn't factor into that emotional intimacy. I can stop sleeping with Tim and Henry and you and I will still be just as dedicated to all of you as I was before."

If sex was the issue, if it wasn't the intimacy that Raylan shared with them, he could do without that. It was.. nice to be able to express how he felt physically, but he didn't require it. Sex didn't change anything. He still loved them. That was the issue.

"You're right. I got.. no idea how this was supposed to work. I don't know. But I don't want to lose you and I can't start pretendin' that Tim doesn't need me. Or my support." That emotional intimacy.

"There's not gonna be anyone else," he whispered.

“How do you know?” Malcolm insisted back, not even trying to keep the tears in now, so long as he could choke back the outright sobs before they burst. There were a lot of ways he felt deceived in the moment, many of them not by Raylan, himself. “You didn’t plan on things with Tim, but he sure managed to worm his way in. He figured out I was with you early on and it sure didn’t give him a moment’s pause. And then he’s smugly dispensing advice every time we talk that he doesn’t even know anything about, like he’s helping me with our relationship while he knows he’s fucking you behind my back! He did it yesterday! While I carried him home because he collapsed in Baneberry Hall.” And frankly, more likely than not, Malcolm would be inclined to punch Tim’s smug, sanctimonious face the very next time he offered Malcolm some faux magnanimity in the form of relationship advice. “You handed him power over me by letting him know more about our situation than I knew and you both lied right to my face about it on your way to bed!” He drew a deep shaky breath. “How am I supposed to feel about that, exactly? How would you feel?”

God he wanted to wrap Malcolm up against his chest and console all those tears, to take the pain of it all away from Malcolm but he couldn't. Had no right to, considering he'd caused it. He took a half step forward instead, one hand setting on the barstool chair, fingers smearing in the dust.

I want to know exactly what kind of person you threw Malcolm over for. He trusts you. He trusts you! Neal screaming at him, swinging at him all replayed over in his head. Maybe he shouldn't have stopped the New Yorker from going full out on him.

"Betrayed," he confirmed quietly with a nod. "I can't defend what he did, what.. we did. But I didn't tell him anything," he replied just as softly as he'd ended before. "Nothing you haven't told other people. Nothing about us. I only ever talk about with him in the context of you two talking. I didn't give him that."

He'd offer to let Malcolm hit him if he thought it would help any fraction. He knew it wouldn't. If Malcolm would even take the offer.

Malcolm wouldn't take that offer. He couldn't.

"You didn't have to tell him anything," Malcolm said quietly. He lifted watery eyes to Raylan's face. He was close enough to touch. Malcolm wanted to touch him. He wanted... 1306 back. He wanted the empty house where he lived with the cowboys and everything was simple. "You knew he knew about us and that I didn't know about you two. And you let it go on and on."

He swiped tears away from his eyes, swallowed heavily, took another wavering breath that betrayed barely held back sobs.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle. He shook a couple pills into his hand and popped them in his mouth and crunched them, swallowing them dry as he tucked the bottle away. The emergency supply he now carried everywhere, in case their things at home disappeared.

The tears persisted. He swiped them away again impatiently.

"So, hypothetically, if I agree to... continue on the way things... have been," he said carefully, with a sniffle. "How does that work? Is this an open relationship? We all just sleep with whoever we want and it doesn't matter? Do we have a set number? Like, you're sleeping with two people so we can carry on with up to two other people? What are the rules for this?" he asked. "Hypothetically, how do you see this working?"

"I decided before the storm to tell you. It only happened a couple of times and not after that decision." It wasn't on and on. It didn't matter. Raylan stared at the floor between them, the shoes Malcolm had worn and the way his feet dangled. It would have been almost worth half a smile if they weren't in the middle of everything else.

You don’t deserve him.

Seeing Malcolm reach for his bottle had Raylan pushing away from his spot and walking towards his own medication, his glass of shine. Coping companion.

Yes, he will love you. You don't get off that easy. He still didn't want to get off easy.

Malcolm's question was a fair one, as most everything he'd said had been fair in one rite or another but Raylan found it harder to answer. Too much and he'd be accused of not letting the road be equal. Too little and he'd be accused of not caring enough. It really was about the sex. Not feeling, not emotional attachment or connection. Just the sex.

He stared into his glass for a long moment. Part of him thought about telling Malcolm what he'd figured out about Neal but in the end he chose not to. That wasn't his business, was it. Maybe once. He could still hear the sobs that Malcolm was fighting in his voice. He couldn't stand to make them worse by the suggestion that Malcolm go be with someone that did deserve him or by trying to distract him with shit that didn't pertain to them. He couldn't send him away.

"I won't stop you from doing what you'd like," he said, keeping his back tilted towards Malcolm for now. He couldn't look at him. He couldn't face all that heartbreak head on just now. "I can't say I won't care but.. I won't stop you. I told you there aren't going to be anymore and when Doc or Tim vanishes, no one's going to replace 'em. No one can."

He emptied his glass with a swallow and turned it over in his hands. It matter who they were sleeping with. It did.

"Just that I'm.. given some kinda notice.. In the end."

The sex was connected to the emotional attachment. It was an extension of it and Raylan knew that or there wouldn't be a problem here. If he could have a close emotional attachment to people without it, they wouldn't be in this situation. He'd be sleeping with one of them and keeping the other two as confidants and emotionally supportive friends, like Malcolm with Klaus and Neal.

Both of whom had wanted to sleep with him at some point. Both of whom he'd turned down because he felt committed to Raylan, even if Raylan didn't want a commitment as such.

"I don't want anyone else," Malcolm told him bluntly. "I just want you to wear my shoes for a minute. I don't think you'd tolerate this. I really don't think you would tolerate what you've asked me to do."

It still wasn't a 'no'. But he wanted to know that Raylan understood what he was asking.

"Do I even offer you anything that he doesn't? You and he make sense together. Like you and Doc. I'm the outlier. You and I have similar jobs, you and he have the same job. He doesn't talk so much, he understands Kentucky, he's probably way better in bed. I don't..." His voice breaks and he stops a moment, looking down again. "I don't even know what you still need me for," he admitted as fresh tears welled close to spilling.

The future was gone, he was redundant in the present. Raylan insisted he needed him. Needed him for what?

So it wasn't about knowing the 'rules'. He should have been elated that it still wasn't a 'no' but it wasn't a yes either. They weren't done. Malcolm could still change his mind and storm out and into Neal's arms for a passionate night of 'I told you so.'

Raylan swallowed thickly. He wasn't sure he could go back to the house.

"Malcolm, of course you do."

Before he was thinking about it, he was turning and striding over again, mindful of the empty cup in his fingertips that was neatly set down on the counter next to Malcolm and shoved away with a little flick of his fingers. "You understand and love me in ways that they don't. Tim is too twisted up in his own hell to see out of it right now and Henry is.. Henry is in love with Wynonna. I'm sure they've slept together. I haven't asked. How is that not the same." How was that not tolerating it?

"Malcolm, when I lay down next to you and let you take everythin' that's worryin' me, it's not because you're convenient. It's because you love me and you let me and you don't hold it against me in the morning. You don't tell me what to feel or how to feel you just.. Accept it. You let me be a different part of me that hasn't seen the light of day since I was a young man. You care about parts of me that.. they.." Didn't know how, weren't aware of, couldn't -

"You are my first." That meant Something, in the same way Henry being his first did. "And I'm not stayin' in Kentucky. And I love hearin' you talk," he continued. "I need you because you're you. Just because you're you."

If Malcolm stormed out, it was doubtful he’d find solace in any arms for quite a while. If it ended like this, he wasn’t sure he could extend a hand with his heart in it again any time soon. Maybe never. This felt real. In all their stolen moments, it felt so real.

“You knew Wynonna was his wife before she even got here. That’s how it’s not the same. That Doc’s heart lived in her pocket was something you knew before you slept with him. That’s how it’s different. You made informed choices together.”

A beat, though, and his eyes lifted to Raylan’s face. Wait. He understood Raylan in ways they didn’t? But they were like him. Was that true?

Watching his face as he went on, Raylan got as far as the first ‘because you’re you’ when Malcolm’s features crumbled completely and he rocked forward burying his face in his hands.

“I want to believe that so badly,” his muffled voice wavered in answer to the second one. “I really, really do.”

There was no stopping himself as he wrapped his arms around Malcolm and drew him into his shoulder, lips turning into his hair as his eyes finally caved to the prick of tears that had been trying to battle to the top, knowing full well the sob could turn into anger in a snap because it had happened before. He'd seen it. He'd suffered through it. He would suffer through it again.

"I need you and I love you and nothin' you decide either way is going to change that. I will always need you and love you." His own voice was shaky and uncharacteristically uneven, tight and hard pressed to get out. "I don't want to survive here without you."

Please don't make me learn how, I'm sorry.

Malcolm let himself be drawn in, in more ways than one, his hands finding purchase in Raylan’s clothes, grasping the fabric wherever they fell.

“I don’t… I don’t want that either,” he admitted. “But you said you wouldn’t lie to me anymore, after Doc,” he gasped into Raylan’s shoulder. “This was the same lie again. Tell me how to believe you when you say there won’t be anyone else. Tell me how to trust you. Fix it,” he implored, like Raylan could just make the bad things go away.

Fix it. Malcolm was just like his sister, in that way.

"I can't," he admitted, voice breaking. "I can promise you a million times over and I would. I will. It was only Tim. He's my partner, I couldn't." That didn't matter either. He shook his head into Malcolm's "There's not going to be anyone else because there's not anyone else. Because I say it won't. I don't care who it is. Even if its her. There won't be anyone else."

Malcolm thought it a fair ask. Raylan hadn't broken it, but he'd taped it back together and then stolen the tape. He'd fixed it once. Couldn't he fix it again?

Even if it's her. Malcolm lifted his head, looking at Raylan through bleary, tear-stained eyes.

"You'd give her up for me?" he whispered.

Raylan slipped a hand around Malcolm's face, pressing their foreheads together as he fought to keep what he could of Malcolm's eyes in focus.

"She will always be the mother of my child. That affords her certain protections. But she only wants me when she can't have me or when she's bored. She might have loved me once," he finally broke to admitting, eyes welling and spilling with tears that only an errant pillow now and then had see. But not now and not for a long time and he was stupid enough to believe it and fight for it at the risk of everything.

"You are not a second choice or a third fiddle. What I feel about you doesn't come anywhere close to how I ever felt about her." Winona ever only got half of him. On a good day. Maybe that's why the marriage failed. Even though he knew it was better that he kept it from her. Spared it from as much as he could. Even if some of it still followed him home.

Malcolm got most everything. He gave to Malcolm what he couldn't give to Henry or Tim and he gave them what he couldn't give the New Yorker. The angry, violent, dark sides of him that left him shamed and unworthy based on that alone, never mind everything else. What would Malcolm do when he found out Raylan's body count? How long before those deaths mattered?

"So... " He sniffled, turning that over in his head. "But..." He swallowed. He realized he still had a death grip on Raylan's shirt. He loosened it a little. "What now, though? Just... pretend nothing happened? Ev...everything is different with Tim. I don't know if I can... just..."

"Don't then. Don't pretend. Don't hide it. He knew this was coming. That this had to come." They were both adults. Long past the forgiveness given to children for not knowing what they do. He'd never be fully free from that goddamned book.

"I'll.. I'll stay here. A few nights. Let things." He swallowed thickly, trying and failing to tuck everything back under the hat he didn't own anymore. "Settle. Neal is.." So furious. "He told me to leave. Can't come back till it's right with him. He-"

Raylan closed his eyes and shook his head a little.

"He cares about you and your well-being."

Malcolm's expression creased, on the verge of crumbling again. "But. Tomorrow is your night. You're not coming to night shift tomorrow?" he asked, his grip in Raylan's shirt tightening.

Raylan's expression creased back in pain, bobbing a little as he studied those impossibly blue eyes.

"Malcolm, you're gonna break him if you don't talk to him before that," he whispered. "You might not realize it Darlin' but he's part of this. I can't go back there and pretend everything is normal with him. Don't break him. Don't make him leave because of this. He's family. He can't leave us too."

It didn't matter that Neal was pissed or had tried his turn with the Marshal. Raylan had earned it. Neal was defending Malcolm's honor. Neal had done the right thing. He shouldn't be punished for it by being left out.

Malcolm let go of Raylan with one hand to scrub it over his face. It ached. He ached. His heart ached.

He frowned faintly. "Neal won't leave us; he promised," Malcolm insisted. "I'll talk to him in the morning. So you can come home for dinner."

He promised. Didn't they all. Heart could do a lot to a man. Some of it brave and fantastic. Some of it ugly and brutally raw. Raylan had, as always, tapped into the latter.

He loves you. It was on the tip of his tongue again. It wasn't right for him to tell.

"That's past his deadline. Has to be tonight," he insisted right back, thumb brushing over Malcolm's jaw, another fresh tear spilling down his cheek. "I will still be here waiting for you, okay? You can come back here and I will still be here."

Malcolm watched his face oh so carefully, like he could read something there.

“You want me to go talk to him now, but then I can come back?”

He slid off his stool but didn’t let go of Raylan’s shirt. He swallowed heavily.

“Do you want me to bring you something to eat?” His eyes trail over to the moonshine glass. “Have you had anything solid to eat?”

"You can come back. I'll.. clean up. I have to call Tim. He needs to know too." He wasn't trying to hide. They both had people to tend to, outside of themselves. Neal might take it out on Tim. Raylan didn't want that.

Raylan pulled back a little, wiping his eyes dry like they hadn't been wet at all.

"But maybe, yeah. I'm sure there's somethin' here but honestly, I haven't looked." No, he hadn't eaten. He felt bad for making Malcolm worry about such a trivial thing. I'm sorry.

"If you can't that's.. that's okay, there's.. I'm sure there's cans here.. I'll find some.. bread or somethin', I promise." Anything to put into his gut. Anything to help absorb this shit in his stomach.

Edited 2021-06-29 03:12 (UTC)

Malcolm let him move away. He knew Raylan didn’t cry. They’d lost people and Raylan hadn’t cried. He probably needed a second.

Tim.

“I’m coming back,” Malcolm insisted. “At least for a couple of hours. It’s… Doc’s night tonight.” Doc’s night was important to him. “So if he wants to come over…” he waved a hand. “I’m coming back so he shouldn’t until I’m gone. I’m sure you’ll think of a nice way to say it.”

He glanced around. Had he worn a coat? No, it was warm outside. He took a steadying breath, then spotted the record. He looked almost embarrassed.

“Right, I’ll… take this back. Since I’m going that way,” he said, reaching for it.

"No," Raylan said behind a whisper, face pinching as he shook his head. "No, he. I don't want him to. Not tonight."

He needed the night for himself. To suffer his isolation and loneliness and self loathing the way he ought to. He needed the night alone if Malcolm wasn't going to be with him.

"Leave it," he continued with a gesture at the record. "Please," was added softly as an addendum. "I'd like to look over it. If that's alright."

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okay well if I work on it anymore I'll never stop

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