Ep 1.5 It's On Again (Pyrotech and Roulette/closed)

[Pyrotech]

Pyrotech had been waiting patiently as Roulette approached.

Outwardly patient.

Inwardly, the architect was on edge.

Pyrotech had been simply utterly surprised when he'd been contacted. He had been away from most of command for so long, sent to places that no one in their right mind wanted to be stationed at. All he'd had was his own hands, a drive to properly finish the projects they set him on. Well, he'd had a motley crew of fools, idiots, and those with functions so useless they made his jaw clench just thinking about it. Pest control. Shell recycling. A blasted metallurgist who hadn't actually been able to use his scanners to any use on Earth. Fighters that couldn't hit the broad side of a tower. Backstabbers who got caught.

This wasn't a discussion about a placement, though.

Shockwave had contacted him directly about an architectural project.

The only time in all these eons he'd ever seen the imposing Decepticon Head of Science was in passing. That particularly hadn't been a shining moment. Not when he'd been standing there in contained disgust, his chest plate sluced in regurgitation from a disorientated medic. Charming.

There had been minimal details, but that was normal among the rank and file, and certainly acceptable over long distance. The fact that he'd sent his proxy told Pyrotech that this was not a casual glance at a blueprint to verify something. This was far more than that.

She was a pretty femme, too. Shorter than the courier, of course, but-- solid. Her curves were feminine, her black paint soft matte, tapped with grey and purple. It suited her. Even under the hazing of the road dirt she was obviously well maintained, with a lovely flare to her hip and a elegance to her frame that Pyrotech had to admire.

At her polite salute, he smiled. Surprisingly, he actually offered up a small, courteous bow in return to her before he straightened.

Roulette's remark gave him pause though. He eyed her for a moment, as if not sure how to respond, but finally a soft chuckle escaped him. "I have been to far worse places myself under the orders of command," he agreed with her, his soft accent touching every word. "It is how it goes, I'm afraid."

A glance around the barren landscape, and then his crimson optics rested back on Roulette. A pleasant, slightly tired smile crossed his handsome features. "I think it is best if we go inside to continue this discussion, though."

[Deleted]

Huh...polished accent, manners, and a nice frame. Crap, I'm dealing with a tower mech, aren't I?

Of course she had no way of knowing whether Pyrotech was, indeed, from the higher caste system from her planet. Nor did it really mean a big deal now of all times. The caste system of yore was little more than an annoying reminder of how bad things had been. She'd never personally met any "important" mechs back in the days before the war. Nor did she ever expect to. Not in her crummy little world of Kaon streets and impoverished living.

She'd never had dreams beyond the slum she dwelled in. No, those dreams were all her sister's. Shadow Striker had been impressionable but she'd had a good spark, slaggit. She had just not been made for the world they'd been created for. While Roulette bit down and lived in Kaon with little more than the passing complaint, Shadow had been ill content with her lot in life and very outspoken about it.

Roulette could still remember the annoying speeches Shadow had pantomimed for her after each rally. Her sister had truly believed, had truly been in love with the idea of revolution. So much so, she'd staked her life on it. A very un-Shadow like thing to do.

Without realizing it, Roulette had let her field shift and start to grow heavy with the mixed lot of emotions relating to her sister. Not exactly the best starter for a negotiation. She firmly closed off the memories of her sister's voice (one that sounded suspiciously like the voice she had inner monologues with) and turned her full attention on the mech.

"Sorry...was just thinking about the last place I was sent. To a freezing swamp full of bog water and sludge. You ever had a newt in your armor? Not a comfortable feeling." She didn't care if he related to the topic or not, but it would surely distract him from the emotional dance she had let herself slip into.

"Lead on, darling. I got all the time in the world." After all, she was on Shockwave's times.

[Pyrotech]

Pyrotech inclined his head. That odd little roll from her field had caught his attention immediately. His own started to flick towards her; holding a question echoed by the lift of a browplate. She immediately clamped down on her field. Hmmm, not at him then. Something else. Smoothly, he attempted to change the conversation, to hopefully put her a bit more at ease.

"I can honestly say no one's called me darling for a while," he told her with a bit of a chuckle before a smile lifted the corner of his lips. He was careful to keep the weapon on his shoulder pointed away from her towards some outcropping of rock in the distance. Pointing a weapon at Shockwave's proxy (even if it was unprimed) wasn't how he wanted things to go.

"A long while, actually."

A thoughtful expression drifted across his features. Oh, it had been a long while. He could remember that evening quite well actually. Pleasant one at that, and the sort of time he held close for those times when he had to deal with all of the other things that happened to him here on Earth.

He was distracted from that memory by a slight motion from the courier. She'd shifted her weight and tucked her hands a little closer to the small of her back. At first he was a bit annoyed by her interruption before he realized he hadn't dismissed her. Well then, easily rectified.

"Courier. Wide patrol," he ordered tersely, lifting a hand to point out across the barren scrub. "Double check the perimeter and make sure no one noticed you drive in."

"Yes sir," she replied. Her optics flicked to Roulette, but only for a moment. Immediately touched her mangled sigil in salute to him and turned. Her spoiler flicked back and then she was off across the landscape. Long loping strides quickly carried the femme into one of the gullies nearby that was half hidden by brush and stone; she disappeared into the landscape and was gone.

Not even bothering to watch her go, Pyrotech turned back to Roulette and shook his head. "That sounds terribly unpleasant," he sympathized with her as he gestured for her to come with him. He settled easily into a walk beside her. Respectfully, he didn't push into her space or get too close; he left a polite and proper amount of distance between them.

"I was stationed myself in Alaska for a while, so I completely understand your feelings on the freezing bog and sludge. However, I have to say I have never had a newt in my armor, no."

"May I ask what happened?" he asked her. "If you are at leave to discuss the situation, of course...? I understand you may not be able to talk about it if it was mission related for your commander."

[Deleted]

It was always interesting to see how mechs took to the pet names she gave them. Some, like the Autobot, absolutely loathed them. Which was one hundred percent of the reason she gave pet names to mechs like that. The other times, for those who actually tolerated them, were just a uncontrollable quirk she had. Perhaps it was a way for her to remember and categorize the mech in her mind? Maybe she just liked pet names as an excuse not to get close to someone. Whatever the reasons, Roulette wasn't about to stop the silly habit.

Fortunately, something about the pet name she'd saddled Pyrotech with must have struck something ok in his body. The smile she'd coaxed out of him was fond and genuine. She'd seen enough feigned niceties to know the look of someone faking. But she was taken back by the shift in behavior in regards to his subordinate. How...weird.

She watched the femme go, giving a little wiggle of her fingers in a departing wave before the other femme departed. Roulette sort of liked her. She wasn't overtly chatty and there was something intagible but nice about her on first appearances. Which didn't explain why the mech didn't seem overly fond of her. Maybe he just found everything in his command to be trying at the moment. Maybe the outpost was wearing on him.

When his attention swung back to her, she nodded politely at his words. Whatever the reason, it certainly wasn't her busi-

"So, what's up with you and the femme?" Well, ok, maybe just a quick question or two wouldn't hurt. Call this warm up to the negotiatons. "You not like her or...." She shifted, bumping the datapad to her hip as she rested her fist there. "As for the newt thing, I got into a little tiff with a Autobot there. The ground collapsed under us and sent us into the mire."

[Pyrotech]

Who knew if the courier had seen that slight motion of Roulette's goodbye. She'd simply vanished into the desolate landscape.

"Hmm?" Pyrotech echoed as he walked along beside her. He seemed to be careful not to crowd in to Roulette's space, as if utterly respectful of the protocol extended to her as Shockwave's liasion. Puffs of dust drifted from their strides and drifted behind them, swirling softly in the wind before settling back into the sagebrush. The insects were still droning softly, a grasshopper creaked and cricked out a rattling burst of songs.

The red mech lifted a brow ridge, surprised at her question, and then glanced the way the courier had gone. His optics narrowed slightly, and his mouth thinned out into a line; it was obvious he wasn't happy. Then he seemed to be drawn back by Roulette's motion of hand, datapad, and hip. He didn't linger (even though he wanted to) on the lovely view. Instead, he politely averted his gaze.

Then he frowned as he thought about how to phrase things. Carefully, he decided. You phrase them carefully. He hadn't missed the tiny wave, the way the smaller femme glanced after the courier.

Pyrotech had always found that there tended to be an odd solidarity in some femmes; being that there weren't many of them around. He'd realized that it became personal over matters like this, as if they themselves were the ones being taken to task. Even when they weren't at all.

Not all of them, of course. Ah, how he missed Mudlark.

The rough, tattoed grey jet femme had been one of the few that Pyrotech appreciated back in Australia. You required something and it got done. No whining or mouthing off, no bucking authority, no having to direct her every step of the way. She had no problems stepping into a fight; and even less of a problem finishing it. Viciously. No quarter.

If the higher ups hadn't needed her to stay, he would have asked for her to be reassigned to him. He had a hard tine holding back a sigh over that. No time to dwell on that. Back to the present situation.

I should have sent a damned Vehicon, he thought to himself. However, Dart had been closest and also likely the least to open her mouth. That was one thing about the courier, he'd never had to drill that into her in all the years they'd worked together. At least not before...

His fingers flexed as he thought about all the wonderful, lovely ways someone could die in a fire. Then he quickly smoothed out the gesture and raised his hand gently.

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "It- it has been a long, long few years. She's always been terribly glitchy, and when she was assigned to me, I was told she works best under a firm, direct hand. I have a reputation for dealing with those sorts well. Really, I don't mind. I enjoy the challenge of building. Be it a base or a team. I give my skills to the Decepticons, and we are slowly making headway in change."

His dry accent curled along each word and then he shook his head. His doors fell, and he glanced over at Roulette and looked at her. A wordless apology tinged his field, and then flared.

"Unfortunately, I was so busy there, I let myself be distracted. I am the first to admit it, I made the mistake. It ended with her being personally responsible for the loss of my last project in Australia. She allowed an Autobot to work their way through our lines, and the mission failed. I lost my crew... well, all of them but her."

"A reminder that you simply cannot become complacent with my sorts of assigned crew. That's all it is. Nothing more. No like or dislike, it's a matter of doing the job correctly when you are told," he explained, with a long, tired sigh. He looked around at the landscape around them, at the drab scrub and sharp stones and then shook his head and turned back to her.

"A tiff?" he prompted her, and tipped his head to encourage a bit more of the story from her. His shoulders lifted with honest interest. "With an Autobot? Ugh, you had to fight in the filth and mud? Unpleasant. I am assuming that since you are here, you must have won that one. Were you hurt, or just... newted?"

[Deleted]

Is this what guilt looks like then? Or is it something else that tightens the mouth so? Resentment? I wonder what that feels like... Roulette surreptitiously watched the mech on the pretext of scanning the landscape. She wasn't as interested in the scrub that lay beyond his bright frame or the rolling dip in the hills. Pyrotech was definitely from a higher caste. No Kaon gutter filth had ever spoke with such eloquence. At least not in the district she hailed from.

She had a better understanding of his relationship with the courier now. Even if she didn't quite get it, per say. Oh, she had a clear understanding of heavy handed guidance. She wasn't exactly working under a pushover. But the diligence and care needed to actively try and direct a group of underlings...that was what she didn't get. So he lost a base. Who cared? In war, losses came at an astonishing rate as did lives lost. There would always be more.

Now that's a way to look at your fellow mech. Then again, it's the truth, isn't it? We're all just whittling away at our time until it runs out...frag, have I always been this morose? What the pit happened? Oh wait, I got strapped to a chair and jabbed in the friggin optic by a bunch of assholes.

The urge to be spontaneous and wild was there, under the surface of her emotions. Just to prove she wasn't damaged and bland. However, given the company and location, now was not the time for that. Perhaps she'd visit the DMZ once more and let loose. Even if she had promised never to get trashed in the company of complete strangers ever again.

Frag it. I'mma do it. But for now she had a mech commanding her attention and respect.

"Pesky, pesky, little Autobots. They're good at ruining bases. That's what I was sent to inspect." Sheepishness bled from her field like an ambient wave. "He sabotaged the site before we parted company. Circumstances were not in my favor to dispatch him."

That was putting the clusterfudge that was the mud incident, very mildly. Not one single minute of that task had went her way. "I don't have a flawless track record but I never said I was perfect. So there's that."

[Pyrotech]

He was clean. For someone who lived out here in the desert among the rocks and sticks and little pebbles, he was amazingly well cared for. The mech's motions were near silent and smooth, very little wasted motion. As efficient as his Peugeot vehicle mode.

He'd picked it for that very reason and had kept it throughout the years, having no desire to switch it out for another. It suited him. Yes, it was an odd vehicle. A rare one. It had lines like a Cybertronian mode instead of an Earth one in some respects.

However, in this area of the country the humans merely eyed him as some experimental sort. Oh look, they twittered, it's electrical, how green is that, and so, so wonderful for the environment!

Every time they said it, it amused Pyrotech. Sometimes he just drove around Portland to see how many of them fawned over him, then ran over a freshly planted tree on the way home.

"Well, no one is perfect," Pyrotech reassured her with a shake of his head. He lowered his chin and appeared sympathetic at her admission. "If we were perfect, things would be very different right now. I wouldn't be out scratching a hole in this forsaken dust bowl, and you wouldn't be down here with a data pad and a discussion. We'd be back on Cybertron, the Autobots taken care of, and..."

A lift of his hand. "A better world," he told her with a wistful look skyward. It didn't matter that it was day and he couldn't see the stars. Cybertron was up there, in space, waiting, and that's all that mattered to him. Back where he belonged, in the canyons of metal and the grand citiscapes. Civilization that wasn't based off a race that died more easily than roto rats.

"At least a start of one, yes. Rebuild and restore, but- ah, I digress, I apologize."

"As for the Autobot," he shrugged and glanced over at her. His doors gleamed, the chrome accents shone in the sun. "It's simply something to hold onto for you when the circumstances fall in your favor. They always do, if given enough time. Not to mention next time, you will know more about the fool and how he reacts."

A smile, just for her. "Shoot him then, and enjoy it even more."

[Deleted]

"Shoot him then, and enjoy it even more."

She nearly cringed. Now wouldn't that have been something if she had? Such a tell, loud and clear: I have secrets and I feel guilty about them. She shouldn't and she knew she shouldn't. But at some point she wasn't sure what she was supposed to be doing. The sharpshooter knew one thing well enough and that one thing was that she owed the Autobot her life. She owed him one mulligan which could very well be the one time she had him in her cross hairs.

How could she explain that logic to anyone, especially those in command? The answer was obvious to her. There was no way in slag she was going to mention even the slightest traitorous thought aloud. Shockwave would have to dig deep with his cortical patch to even find an inkling of the conflicted feelings she harbored for the Autobot that saved her life.

Primus, it's not like I'm in love with the dude. I don't even like him! But he saved my aft when he could have left me. And not just once, he willingly dragged me out of there without a second thought. Fragging idiot, who does that?! Now I can't kill him. At least not until we're even...

"Hmm, maybe," she smirked faint enough to barely turn the corners of her mouth. "I doubt I even see him again. Chance is funny like that."

If she did see him again, she was going to shriek bloody murder. So far their interactions had been nothing but bad luck. As far as she was concerned, that Autobot could go pound sand and stay away from her.

[Pyrotech]

They were heading towards a rather deep gully. The way the terrain was, it only was visible when they were right on top of it. The brush and the stones helped conceal it from a casual glance over the landscape. Within, the tough plant life had given way to mostly stone with ragged tufts of struggling greenery.

Several large juts of red sandstone stood out, poking up from the yellowed landscape.

Pyrotech hopped down into the trench. He turned to her and then started to lift a hand, fingers outstretched politely to help her down. Then he hesitated; it had been an automatic gesture on his part to offer her his grip while she found her footing. However, some femmes found it rude and would immediately stalk by him while loudly proclaiming how they could do things for themselves.

A bit of him wondered how Roulette would react...

Then he decided to find out for himself. Pyrotech shifted his weight and with a tiny lift of his doors, he simply left his hand there, fingers outstretched towards her.

"Chance is a funny thing," the architect agreed with her. It was. "I wouldn't doubt you will see him again though, if you remain here. All things considered, it is a very small planet and we are a very small population of Cybertronians."

"Does Shockwave send you often down planetside?" he asked.

[Deleted]

Why is it everywhere I go, I'm faced with a hole in the ground? Semantics or no, a gully was still a long hole in the ground and bad things happened when she got near holes in the ground. Newt things happened. Surreptitiously, Roulette looked around for any errant reptiles.

Wait, I think a newt is an amphibian, isn't it? They live inside mucky, wet places and sort of live to ruin my life. She picked her way to the edge and watched Pyrotech hop into the gully like it was the easiest thing in the world. Just hop on in! Totally easy! Never mind there were rocks and loose slag everywhere! Just fragging do it!

When he turned to offer a help down she didn't even second guess the gesture for alternate intentions. She was never so prideful as to shrug off help especially if she was acting as a guest to his instillation. Now if he'd offered to carry her down, she probably would have slapped him with the datapad but no mech was that stupid. Without reservation, she reached for his hand.

Unfortunately, all her wondering about newts and lizards distracted from stepping on a stable part of the ledge. Sandstone crumbled as she shifted her weight and about the time she realized her balance was compromised, she was already leaning to the side to take his hand. With a curse, she threw her weight back and flung out her arms to counterbalance. The datapad was still grasped carefully in her hand as she pinwheeled her arms and realized that gravity was going to topple her ass like a jenga tower.

"Fffff-" was all she had time to get out before her legs slid out from under her and down she went, right toward the mech she was trying to create a partnership with.

[Pyrotech]

As Roulette looked over, there was a checkered grey and black lizard sitting on a slab of rock. A long whippy tail curled behind it. It eyed the Decepticon as she went to jump and gave her a rather cheeky wink and a flick of the grey-blue tongue.

Next time we meet, we'll discuss all the chinks in your armor, it seemed to say.

Pyrotech stood, his expression and field perfectly neutral and pleasant. When she reached for his hand, he held steady and did not budge. Well then, this one, she understood manners and his estimation of her rose a notch. No wonder Shockwave had commendeered this femme as his assistant; she adapted herself to the situtation...

The sandstone on the edge was tricky. The red mech knew that, he'd come tumbling down a few times in this area. It often gave way under their weight, slabbing off dangerously. One thing he'd had the time to learn on Earth after all the blasted years spent in the middle of nowhere was how to move in these areas.

Simple rules, yes, but ones that kept you with the least amount of damage from this forsaken ball of dirt. Where there was brush there was better footing between sliding sand. His architectural knowledge had also helped; don't step on overhangs with no support trust the edges unless they were shored from underneath. Shale was dangerous, it shifted and broke in slippery slabs and sent you down onto your knees at best, into deep ravines at worst.

What Roulette's reaction told him in an instant was no, she was not sent to Earth often. His question had been perfectly answered.

Interesting. She was sheltered on board that ship, tucked in those halls of science. It nudged Pyrotech's ego up a bit; sending her wasn't an afterthought. It was a surprisingly respectful gesture on Shockwave's part and one that Pyrotech took into account.

That thought lifted the red mech even as he moved immediately to catch her. His hand gripped her own, fingers sliding between hers. Even as she pinwheeled, he ducked, his doors flaring out behind him for counterbalance. He slid smoothly under her frantic attempts to keep from falling on her face.

With a graceful gesture he swept one arm around her slender waist, a gesture more suited to a high tower with an elegant dance floor. Using Roulette's momentum, he spun on his heel, sending up a puff of dirt as he caught her and and brought her close.

So close that the sunbaked shimmer of heat on their metal bounced between them.

Pyrotech held her there easily for one second and then set Roulette down onto the gully floor.

Once he was sure she was secure, the mech stepped away from her, releasing her from his grip.

"Those edges are unstable," he apologized. His doors fell slightly, the ladder on his shoulder tipped downwards. "Forgive me, I should have mentioned it to you. I've simply gotten used to it, unfortunately. Are you all right?"

<ooc: had Rumi's permission to mechhandle Rou a bit. *grin*>

[Deleted]

Why did Shockwave send her out again? He had to know she was a victim of circumstance. She wasn't sure what would have felt better: being rescued from a stupid fall or spotting the lizard partway down. Ohgod there were reptile things out here! Now she was going to be extra paranoid. (Although, she had a feeling Pyrotech wouldn't have reservations about reaching into her armor to find a foreign object...)

After the world stopped trying to tilt her onto her head, she opened her optics and looked around, field gone fuzzy with sheepish embarrassment. The mech was smooth, she'd give him that. He hadn't hesitated to halt her fall and had even managed to move her to stable ground as seamless as a dancer. She'd never danced with anyone before, but she liked to think this was what it might feel like.

"...Today is just not my day." She twitched her shoulders, moving the bumper folded up over her back and tried to settle on one thought and not ten. The heat of their bodies. A annoying rock that had slipped into the seam of her foot. The stupid lizard. His stupid hands. This stupid planet. The datapad she still held. Was it hot out here or was it just her? The fragging unstable landscape.

Primus, I can't wait until Shockwave blows this planet up. Bring it on. I hope he lets me push the button.

"I ah," she mentally cursed and beat her thoughts back on track. "-I'm fine. But what was that? Do you dance or are you just naturally that smooth?"

[Pyrotech]

Roulette's embarrassment was obvious to Pyrotech. Her field jarred in that space between them. Immediately the architect held up his hand; a reassuring gesture. It was what it was, she'd fallen, he'd caught her. And yet... there was a lingering weight on his fingertips, a memory of her smooth flank, the well-cared for plating. He enjoyed it, he turned it over in his mind like he would have turned over blueprints and flattened them gently across the surface of a desk.

Well, a decent desk.

It was interesting; he simply did not prefer schematics on datapad. Oh, he used it, they were tools, of course, and it was silly not to use a tool you had to make a display easier. Given his choice though, Pyrotect far preferred to print his schematics on the thin, rolling displays of transparancy; the sort that changed color with a tiny curl of current. Yes, they were archaic, but he found them to be works of art. Several had hung on the walls in his old living space back on Cybertron. He missed that part of his old life on a regular basis.

"I would like to have you think I am naturally that smooth," he told her. His voice smoothed, fell low, a conspiring note for her and her alone. "However, I am afraid that isn't the case. Well, on some things I suppose I am. I have an eye for architecture."

He smiled at her. "Dancing though, I had to learn it," Pyrotech told her. "They expected it, you know. To be able to mingle correctly, all these skills that did you no good for any general purpose, but if you didn't have them..."

The red mech shook his head and his doors flicked back slightly. "They noticed," he offered.

His ladder shifted a bit, apparently betraying some sour memory. It never reached his field though; Pyrotech had a good handle on keeping that as flat as glass.

He motioned to her and began to walk again, following the gully upwards. "Forgive me, I got a bit lost in my thoughts there. It's been a while since I even thought about it. Short story, yes, I do dance, but it has been a long time. Yourself?"

[Deleted]

Who is they?

She would have to ask at a point when she actually knew the mech. Just popping off personal questions wasn't exactly a good opening to negotiations. Something told her that the red mech was a bit more complicated under the well cared for armor and manners. Then again, weren't they all?

She settled into a slow walk beside him. This time she took her time and noted the way the ground and loose scree shifted under her pedes. She was not taking another tumble on this one. Hell to the no. That was embarrassing enough as is. What was with her and losing her footing on this stupid planet? She'd never been so clumsy back home.

"Nah, I never learned to dance. I wasn't good at the social thing. I left that to others who were more personable. Was better at coaxing a mech to gambling his entire credits for the next cycle, not gliding him across the floor." Her sister had been pretty light on her feet. But that might have accounted for the total lack of smarts in that feather light head of hers.

"I don't know why Shockwave thinks this is a good idea. Every time I come down here, something weird happens." She waggled the datapad in her hand.

[Pyrotech]

The walls of the wash rose past them as they continued to walk. The ground had been subtly altered here, dug out more than it should have been, creating a depth that they could have ducked down into and not been seen at a casual glance over the landscape. Up ahead was a fairly large rocky crag, and at the bottom, Roulette might notice a hint of a dark spot, a curve like an overhang under some of the larger stones and the crumbling shale.

Pyrotech's optics slipped to the data pad she held. His gaze steadied on it for a long moment as if he was trying to figure out what it might possibly contain within, what was being asked for. If he had to be honest, the architect expected nothing in return. It was simply opening a door, and one that he would not let close if at all possible.

"Well, he must think highly of you if he sends you to negotiate," the mech offered politely. His footsteps crunched lightly in the dry dirt, tiny puffs curled off the tips of his toes.

He inclined his head and looked over at Roulette. "No dancing? If you'd ever like to learn, I'd be happy to offer. Unfortunately it isn't much of a needed skill in this day and age, but you never know. Maybe somewhere along the line."

"As for leaving it to others, I think dancing takes far less social skills than asking someone to part with hard-earned money," Pyrotech agreed. "But now I have to say I'm utterly interested with what you used to do back home. May I ask, or is that treading too far onto personal points...?"