ArchivedLogs:Take Care

Take Care
Dramatis Personae Hive, Jackson, Micah, Flicker	2 November 2013 Speculations on and plans for the outbreak and taking care of Hive. (Part of Infected TP.)
Location <NYC> 403 {Geekhaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
There's kind of a college-dorm feel to this place, though some of its occupants have left college behind. Entering the apartment finds visitors greeted by the perpetually messy living room, a mismatched assortment of couches and chairs (and milk crates) surrounding the wide table in the center. The wall holds a range of posters; some political, some sporty, some from video games, and a string of white lights strung over the kitchen doorway might be a holdover from Christmas. A widescreen television stands against the wall opposite the couch, shelving beside it holding a host of video games from different consoles. More shelving beside the windows on the far wall carries stacks of board games, as well as sourcebooks from various RPGs. The kitchen adjacent is just as cluttered, its table unfit for eating due to its perpetual covering of books, papers, cereal boxes, projects; the fridge is usually sparsely populated. Ketchup. Beer. Not a lot of food. There are two bedrooms here and one bathroom situated between them, split between the three people who live here. It's actually quiet, in Geekhaus today. With many of the rescuees out in other apartments or gone altogether, the residents of this particular apartment have their Saturday to themselves. Not that they're doing anything particularly exciting with it; with Dusk and Flicker both sick and Hive not exactly /himself/, even their downtime is boring. Dusk is asleep in his bedroom, Flicker -- has been /trying/ to be asleep in his though a climbing fever and growing disorientation has made it somewhat difficult for him to remain in /place/, an instability he is attempting to medicate into submission with a heavy dose of drowsy-making NyQuil. With his regular caretakers indisposed, Hive has been left to his own devices. His own devices, at the moment, consist of sitting on the couch staring at the blank television. He is dressed in the same clothes he has been in since yesterday, jeans and his favorite brown hedgehog t-shirt. Knock knock knock! More a formality than a request, Jax opens the door promptly after announcing his presence. He and Micah are evidently coming up here on sick-people relief; Jax is armed with a pot of soup, at least, held carefully in one oven-mitt clad hand. Jax is markedly less colourful than usual, just comfortable today in purple yoga pants and a cheerful yellow Little Miss Sunshine t-shirt, though he lacks makeup or even his typical layer of illusion hiding scars and touching up his damaged ink. "Afternoon!" is his cheerful greeting, "Flicker you in there? Hive, sweetie, when'd y'eat last? Got soup. Noodles. Chickpeas. S'good." Micah has been doing fairly okay, compared to the rest of the overwhelmingly sick-faces in the Lofts lately. His throat tickle of Friday has developed into the sniffle and occasional cough of late Saturday morning, but it is nothing debilitating. He and Jax have apparently appointed themselves general caretakers for the day. Not that there wasn't likely some fussing over one another’s own illnesses earlier. Out of deference to anyone who still /isn't/ ill, he has popped on a surgical mask in bright yellow, covered in assorted bouncing Tiggers. His hair is a tousled mess that might have seen some disinterested combing earlier in the morning, his clothes the usual T-shirt (powder blue with a smiling Totoro face), jeans (faded and patched in mismatching colours), and socks (black and spotted in rainbow flamingos all standing on one leg). The bottle of hand sanitizer clipped to his belt loop is larger than the tiny one typically attached to his keys. In his duties as caretaker, Micah has been assisting with cooking and brewing up hot tea whenever his hands aren't full with something else. There may also have been a grocery run to obtain several gallons of orange juice somewhere in there. Once the Lighthaus crew is fed, he makes his way over to Geekhaus, following behind Jax with a bag full of assorted teas on one arm and a jug of OJ in the other hand. He frowns at Hive as he sets his items on the counter and pulls dishes from the cabinets for portioning out food and drinks. “Mornin', hon. Folks are sick enough over here, too, I guess. You been out on the couch all night? Not feelin' sick yourself, I hope.” At first, Hive doesn't seem to register the new presences in his apartment, still just staring ahead at the blank television screen. Slowly, though, there is a ripple of mental pressure brushing lightly against the others' minds. << All night, >> comes in whisper-soft echo, not sounding much like answer but instead black uncomprehending confusion. << Flicker, >> this echo has more understanding, pressing into the other men's minds with an unstable blipping of feeling, erratic and a little lost. "Kind of here," Flicker answers from -- the bathroom at first but a moment later it is his bedroom and only then the living room; he is hard to focus on, wavering in ghostlike blur somewhere behind the couch. "Hi um, yeah, he's been there all -- sorry I can't really hold him right now I don't think he's eaten since Dusk fed him last night. Maybe probably has to pee I don't know." He sounds tired more than anything. "Are /you/ guys feeling okay? Man this has been getting /everyone/ hasn't it?" "Yeah um I mean getting kinda sniffly but I think we're doing -- more okay than /you/ guys, wow." Jax heads to the kitchen to put down his soup, eying Flicker with worry. "Honey-honey, have /you/ eaten -- /can/ you eat?" His teeth bite down on his lip. "Bastian's got it hard but both Shane an' Spence ain't feeling so great now. I should've got them all flu shots earlier. Hindsight, I guess..." His teeth drag against his lip. "-- wonder what happens if Hive /does/ get sick, it ain't hardly good for his --" His fingers wave towards his head. "People, when he gets /hurt/ -- Hive you feeling --" He trails off with a bit of uncertainty as to how much Hive is feeling at /all/ right now. Micah's frown (visible mostly through his eyes and the muscles of his face that show /around/ his mask) is joined by a furrowing of his brow at Hive's not-quite-answer, at Flicker's blurry appearance, even at Jax's claim of just being a little sniffly. “/I've/ just been a little sniffly,” Micah assures. “Anybody here had trouble with findin' words or rememberin' things or anythin' like that?” Once he has finished setting a full tea kettle on to heat, he abandons his food-based tasks briefly and makes his way over to place a wrist to Hive's forehead in the age-old 'assess for fever' pose. "I mean -- yeah Hive hasn't really had words but that's been a while now." Flicker doesn't quite stay put as he talks, appearing closer to the kitchen and then over towards his bedroom again. "Dusk -- has been kinda confused? I don't know, he's tired a lot. Needs to eat more maybe but everyone's sick, there aren't a lot of people who can afford to feed him." Hive, at least, doesn't feel at all feverish. He doesn't respond to the touch, either, just sitting still on the couch when his temperature is checked. << Dusk forgets. Flicker -- >> Again, that same disoriented sense of instability. << We are feeling. >> Here there is a rush of sensation, cluttered with the feelings of -- dozens? hundreds? of people, jumbled over top of each other in a chaotic rush. "I could -- I mean if we're both already getting this anyway." Jax shrugs, taking the bowls Micah has gotten out to serve up two full of soup before pouring orange juice into two glasses. "When he's awake, maybe. -- woah, jeez." He puts a hand to his head at that flood of feeling, leaning briefly against the counter. "Hive, how many --" His face has paled, more with worry than illness. "Hive, you need to stop you can't --" << Come back from this. >> His face scrunches up unhappily. "-- Flicker, s'there anything we can do to help settle you enough t'eat an' get some rest?" Satisfied that Hive doesn't seem to have taken a fever, he slips himself against the telepath's side, sliding his arm under Hive's and around his back to help him to his feet. << Gonna get you over to the bathroom, ho-- >> he tries to inform, though he is cut off for a moment, wincing at the sudden influx of sensations from Hive. He winces, shakes his head, and coughs once into his mask. “Thought we had /talked/ about this endin'. Now Jim's on the hunt for the missin' body.” With a pull of his arm and push of his shoulder, he gets Hive to his feet and starts walking slowly toward the bathroom. Micah bites at his lip for a moment, thoughtful at the data provided on the many illnesses cropping up. “Dusk ate /twice/ in one day an' still got sicker. He's confused. Jax was forgettin' words. Don't know as this is just a flu, guys. I mean...look at all the people gettin' terrible-sick. 'Bastian an' Shane ain't /never/. Dusk should be able t'get better with enough blood in 'im.” His head shakes. “Feel like maybe this is somethin' else. Should take /everybody/ with any symptoms to the doctor on Monday—those as ain't gone already, anyhow.” He pushes the bathroom door open to lead Hive inside. << What ending. >> Hive just seems kind of blank again, not a lot of understanding in his mental reply. He is easy to move, though, getting up when Micah leads him to walk along and disappear into the bathroom. Flicker takes a few tries before making it to the kitchen, but it is longer still before the unstable shimmering calms. His hands grip the counter tightly, his expression pale and drawn. "I don't know," he admits, "I need something to -- hold on to, this is -- I'm tired." He doesn't try eating just yet, hanging on to the counter as his shoulders slump downwards. "The twins both sick is weird," he agrees. "But what -- else do you think it might be." << Sick all over. Whole city. >> Hive has taken the time it takes Flicker to get settled to relieve himself, a process that currently takes a bit of assistance. But he returns soon enough, a very brief frown crossing his features before they relax back into blankness. << Opening -- a lot of free -- flu shot clinics. All week. >> Tentatively, Jax rests a hand on Flicker's back. "I'll be right here with you. C'mon. Y'gotta eat. An' stay hydrated. Some juice maybe. Some --" He stops for a moment, brows furrowing. "Here," he says instead, nudging the bowl closer to Flicker. "It /is/ weird. Half the school is sick. An' on Thursday Daiki hit a girl in his class. /Daiki/. Flu don't usually make you /crazy/." << You holdin' onto all these people in your /head/ endin’, >> Micah replies simply. He assists Hive through using the facilities and sits him down to wash his face with a damp cloth, combing out his hair, and brushing his teeth (if he can get directed to the correct /toothbrush/). Both sets of their hands receive a thorough scrubbing before returning to the living room to settle the telepath into a /different/ spot on the couch. They arrive in time to catch the news about Daiki. “Don't rightly know, but... This is both too virulent an' causin' too many symptoms that sound neurological t'be a flu.” Back in the kitchen, Micah pours two glasses of orange juice and turns the heat off under the singing teapot. “Anybody got preferences on teas? I brought a couple different kinds over.” He gestures to the bag. His fingers drum on the countertop. “Any chance this /might/ have somethin' t'do with Vector bein' put through a stressful situation? He was around Dusk an' Kay an' me. An' the boys an' Jax an' the girls from school weren't far from that...” << People in our head. >> Once again, Hive doesn't sound exactly understanding. << We are fine. >> "Oh, I don't do -- is there something without caffeine?" Flicker leans back into Jax's touch, settling there for a moment and then slowly reaching for his spoon. "Oh -- oh gosh Vector -- I forgot he --" He looks a little more queasy at this thought. "/Daiki/ attacking someone? That -- I've never even seen him -- this is weird." << Weird? >> Hive just sounds confused again once he is settled back on the couch. << Vector is here. >> "Weird -- yeah. It's -- yeah. Weird." Jax stays near Flicker when the touch seems to help, pushing the second bowl of soup towards Micah for Hive. "Yeah. Ended with a couple kids in the med lab. He just seemed kinda confused when I talked t'him about it later." He shifts uncomfortably, at the mention of Vector. "... could be. Would explain all the -- the weird. Wait, /here/? No, he ain't here. They -- we moved him." “Brought over...ginger-mint, chamomile, and a lavender rooibos as the herbals. Figured most people would be leanin' decaf, so that's what I brought the most of.” Micah shakes his head at Jax's question. “Don't think he meant /physically/ here. Think he meant still on the Borgnet. Don't think Hive's been droppin' anybody. Not even the refugees as got their brainchips removed already. You /really/ don't sound okay, hon.” He gives Hive a worried look before opening the bag of teas. “Could ask /Vector/ if this sounds like anythin' he was...exposed to. I guess.” "Oh, oh ginger-mint sounds good. Please. Thank you." Flicker eats slowly, small mouthfuls of soup. "And yeah he hasn't. Let anyone go." He shivers, maybe for this information but maybe just from a chill. << We have caused -- sickness before, >> Hive reports after a pause, the dominant mental voice in his crowd now sounding more like Vector's gentle tone than his own. << Mentally. Didn't spread like this. But diseases change. >> "Oh. That kinda here." Jax rubs his hand gently against Flicker's back, biting down on his lip. "Hive, please. Are /you/ even in there any more?" An uncomfortable tension tightens his shoulders. "... What was it like before?" Flicker's tea order earns a nod in reply. “Comin' right up. Anythin' for you, Jax?” He pulls tea balls from the bag, readying one with ginger-mint and the another with rooibos to get them steeping in a pair of mugs before the water cools much from full-boiling. “Caused...mental disease. I guess it had t'be organic if you were causin' it? An' /this/ is some kinda microbe t'be spreadin' like this. S'gotta be airborne or simple contact-based t'get through people so quickly.” << Of course we are here. >> The Vector-tone in Hive's voice has vanished, just a characterless whisper once again. << No. Last time, we only spread it -- >> This is Vector once more, but trails off into brief quiet. << Last time we did not spread it. Only gave it -- It didn't spread. Killed too quickly, maybe. >> Flicker's spoon clatters back into his bowl. He vanishes, returning momentarily beside Jax to take his place beneath the artist's hand again. "... Killed. Um. Hive is. This isn't the same thing is it? Nobody's dying." Jax just falls into quiet, a brief ripple of light around him. "Io specialised in infectious diseases," he finally says quietly, calm in tone though internally he is connecting 'killed too quickly' with Micah's sniffles, Bastian's aches, Shane and Spence starting to complain of sore throats. "What /was/ it, did it look like this? -- um. No, no tea I'm okay, thanks." Micah sets a timer on his phone before sticking it back into his pocket. He claims a glass of orange juice and sits next to Hive with it. << You gotta get somethin' in you if you haven't had anythin' t'eat or drink since last night. 'Specially with all this sickness goin' around. Okay? >> He waits for consent to give Hive the juice rather than just /force-feeding/ the man. “Io would be good t'ask. Prob'ly most of the folks we're sendin' for doctorin' would be headin' over t'his clinic, anyhow. Happy openin' day!” He sighs heavily. “It'd be good t'know whatever details y'can give us, Vector, on the off chance that these things are related.” << We ate. >> Hive doesn't really seem to register the juice so much. << It was a mistake, >> comes next in Vector's voice. << We were angry. The woman with me -- a telepath, they were trying to get her to /make/ us do what they wanted -- she got sick instead. Then angry. Attacked her handler even with her chip. They both died. It was over quickly. They didn't die /of/ it, they just killed each other. >> Flicker shivers beneath Jax's hand. "Sick like flu-sick or sick like -- angry..." He stops, frowning down into his bowl. "You can't infect people with angry." From Vector!Hive there is just silence on this. "I'll call Io." Jax's fingers knead at Flicker's back. "Killed each other -- Dai attacked that girl. That ain't /normal/ by any stretch. She got sick when you got angry? How did you -- give it t'her?" He shakes his head at Hive's answer. "You need to eat in /this/ body here, honey-honey. C'mon, open your mouth, sweetie, Micah's got juice." << Sorry, hon. Eatin's a body-based thing. Every /body/ has t'eat t'keep goin'. This means you. You're prob'ly dehydrated already. S'just juice for now, that's easy. Open. >> Micah holds the glass up, right in front of Hive's face, to assist him with registering its presence and his need to open his mouth. “Did they ever speculate as t'what it /was/ that did that to 'em around you, Vector?” He shakes his head at Flicker's assertion. “No, that ain't true, either. Y'can infect people with /crazy/--well, dementia, anyhow. Neurosyphilis. Ergot fungus poisoning. Certain prions. Some other viruses and bacteria. More options than I'd like, honestly.” << I'm sure they did, >> Vector's voice comes back, even as Hive opens his mouth obligingly to accept juice, << but they didn't discuss it with me. I'm just the labrat. >> Flicker returns to his eating, but slowly still. Intermittently plagued by his restless shifting. "News has said this flu thing is worse than it's been in a long while and -- there's been some, some w --" He stops, frowning, and is quiet through another bite of soup. "Some really strange -- It isn't just Dai, Dusk said at his flash mob on Halloween people were just, attacking each other. Does anyone else feel like this is --" He stops again, blushing, and dips his head back down for more food. "Nevermind, sorry. Sorry." "Sorry? What are you sorry..." Jax stops to bonk his head lightly against Flicker's shoulder. "Sorry for? Don't think there's no harm in speculatin'. Feel like this is what? /Weird/ timing? The start of a terrible horror movie? I feel sometimes like most my /life/ has gone --" He shrugs. "I'll call Io straightaway. Sooner someone can start looking into this serious, the better." “Mmn...too bad. Sometimes people forget people they think’re unimportant an' just discuss things in front of 'em. It was worth checkin', if a little too wishful a thought.” Micah pours small, slow little mouthfuls of juice past Hive's lips, using little touches and verbal reminders to make sure his mouth opens and closes at the appropriate intervals, that he swallows between additions of juice. “Yeah, it's like that. There's some as speculate ergot poisonin' was responsible for the Salem witch trials, y'know? So...it could be that people are just a little open to suggestion, too. Affectin' the way things manifest. Dementia /is/ pretty suggestible.” He nods at Jax's plan. “Io's a good plan. Convenient infectious disease specialist is convenient.” Something catches his attention, however. The combination of Flicker's confusion and Jax's lack thereof. “Hey, Jax? You're kinda lookin' better t'day than y'did on Thursday, even. S'there anythin' y'did different? 'Cause you're the only one I noticed seemin' worse an' then /better/. Everybody else I've observed has been all downhill.” Hive is easily guided through this process, well used by now to this assistance. Aside from the drinking, though, with no more questions posed directly to him he lapses back into silence. "Kinda like a horror movie," Flicker agrees sheepishly. "But maybe I watch too many of them." He finishes off his soup, giving Jax a grateful smile once his bowl is empty. "Thanks. This has been hard. Remind me never to get sick again." Jax just shrugs, in answer to this. "I don't know, I kinda burn through sick pretty fast in general? I feel pretty..." He hesitates, then shrugs again. "Don't know as I done anything in particular. I just been working too much to bother with /really/ getting sick, I can't afford that none. Think you can hold off sick through sheer determination?" He sounds a little wry as he takes Flicker's bowl, swapping it out for a glass of orange juice. "Kids at school got better too though or --" He stops, uncertain. "'Least we thought they had done. Dai had just got cleared to go /back/ to class the day he started that fight, he looked like he was better." He bites down on his lip uncomfortably. Once Hive has finished about half a glass of juice, Micah returns to the kitchen to fill a bowl of soup for him as well, collecting a spoon from a drawer on his way back to the couch. << Got soup now, hon. Spoon. S'already had time t'cool off so shouldn't be scaldin' your tongue or anythin'. >> He lifts a spoonful to the telepath's lips and waits. “I dunno, maybe. It was less the holdin' off an' more the lookin' /less/ bad that I found interestin'. An'...I'm not so worried about the coughy-sniffly-cold part. I meant the neuro. signs. Confusion. Difficulty rememberin' things. Trouble with word-findin'. Behavioural changes, like Daiki. You were a little out of it on Thursday night, but t'day not so much. Was hopin' maybe you made a special kinda tea or took some vitamin or somethin'. Again, prob'ly too much wishful thinkin' on my part. Guess we should leave the real problem solvin' t'Io.” "Does this mean you're about to start trying to eat all of us?" Flicker eyes Jax with deep suspicion, snagging the spoon back out of his empty bowl to brandish it menacingly at Jax. "You'll tell us if you start getting any cravings for brains right?" Hive just eats. Quiet. Omnom soup. "... am pretty hungry," Jax allows, "an' you /are/ lookin' mighty tasty." He leans in to Flicker, chomping teeth down lightly in the other man's am. Omnom Flicker. Micah continues spooning soup into Hive's mouth until the bowl is empty if Hive complies with eating. “Honestly, it might be a better thing if all of the sick people monitor their symptoms for anythin'...weird. An' keep a log. An' stay /home/ unless they're goin' t'the doctor. It'd be helpful t'know how this thing is transmitted, but in the meantime, relative quarantine might be the best plan. Um...after I go out on one more supply run t'day. 'Cause we'll need supplies an' pretty much /everyone/ is sick an' I'm only /barely/ sick, at least? I'll just...try not t'touch anybody. Maybe wear some gloves. Keep the mask on.” He chuckles at Jax's play-biting. “Ugh...prob'ly ought t'tell somebody at your school about this, too, Jax? At minimum. Maybe they can try t'keep the kids as have been sick away from the ones as haven't. An’ they got a doc there as might be able to investigate further, right?” Flicker twitches, eyes briefly wide; he’s been picking up his orange juice but at the bite it thunks back down onto the table as he vanishes, reappearing in the kitchen doorway and then over by Micah and Hive at the couch. He’s laughing, though, the sound of his laughter traveling strangely with his erratic location. “Oh, gosh, Shane says that all the time. I am /not/ food.” Hive -- just eats. “There’s other people in this building not even sick at /all/,” Flicker points out to Micah. “/You/ can stay home. Send Liam, he’s fine.” Jax grins, quick and bright and amused as Flicker teleports away. “You sure, honey-honey, you pretty much look delicious.” His nose crinkles at Micah’s mention of a supply run. “Sweetie, you /are/ sick, you should stay in. I’m past this already, I can -- or Liam, Flicker’s right, he ain’t had nothin’ an’ Clarice is sick anyhow so t’ain’t like he needs to be stayin’ away from alla us.” He scrubs a hand through his hair, moving out to the living room once HIve is done eating to quietly take the bowl from Micah so that he can wash the dishes. “Not sure if it’s better to keep the pups home or send ‘em back to school, I mean everyone /both/ places is sick. School does have a couple’a doctors livin’ there, though, s’probably a better call ‘specially since I can’t take /them/ to a hospital if it gets needful.” “Oh, right. If there are people who haven't shown any symptoms at all, s'prob'ly best t'send them out, then,” Micah admits somewhat sheepishly. “An', no, Jax. I don't trust this. Think y'should prob'ly stay here, too, 'til a doctor can see you. Just in case. We don't know what this thing is an' apparently it's /real/ dangerous.” He surrenders the bowl over to Jax. “Yeah, it's prob'ly best t'let the boys stay where they got care. Do we have any apartments that ain't got /anybody/ sick in 'em? 'Cause it might be better t'let Hive go stay with people who ain't sick. He needs a lotta hands-on tendin', an' we're like as anythin' t'make /him/ sick, too. Don't like t'think what that'd do with 'im already like this.” “In this building?” Flicker draws his teeth against his lip. “Joshua’s place? I don’t think any of them have it? But sticking him in with /four/ psionic people --” He doesn’t look particularly sanguine about this idea. “That’s about it for our building /here/. We could send him out, um, Rachel’s place is near Jax’s tattoo studio -- I guess that means near the Clinic now, too. I don’t think she’s --” Though he looks unsure about this now too, “-- at least I think her place is fine though if it’s hitting the school hard I don’t know how Inès is doing.” “Inès is alright for now. Rachel’s place might be a good option I mean she’s definitely used t’dealin’ with folks what need care. An’ used t’dealin’ with Hive.” Jax finishes the dishes, wiping his hands against his purple pants. “Aright. We can /text/ Liam ‘bout supplies an’ -- if y’all need anything else just let someone know, aright? I’ll see if Rachel can pick Hive up, keep him free’a all this. Hive, sweetie --” The question forms in his mind, at least -- << How d’you feel ‘bout stayin’ with Rachel for a bit? >> -- but a sinking unhappy feeling that Hive would not even notice the change in surroundings stalls his question. He swallows. “You mind stayin’ with Rachel for a bit?” he finally manages anyway, though with little real hope of response as he puts the rest of the soup in the fridge and leaves the kitchen to start back towards the door. “This place is really a mess.” Micah's head shakes as Flicker reveals how few /aren't/ sick. “But that's good. Maybe a place completely outside is the best thing for 'im.” He chews at his lip, watching Hive as Jax tries to get an answer from him. “He's gonna need help. More help than we can give 'im, I think. If we're ever gonna get 'im back outta there.” He stands to gather items from the kitchen that need to return to their apartment, following along with Jax. “Should get one of the people as ain't sick t'take 'im over there.” << Feel, >> is the only thing Hive echoes out of this, turning this word over and reflecting it to the others somewhat blankly. Flicker winces. His shoulders sink, tired and heavy. “I’ll pack things up for him. Thank you for the food, you guys. I’d give you hugs but --” His arms kind of shimmer blurrily along with the rest of him when he lifts them. Drops them back to his side. “Take care of yourselves.” “Y’all do, too.” Jax casts a worried look, between Flicker and Hive and Dusk’s closed bedroom door. “Liam, Rachel. Io. Right.” He gives the others a quick smile, and opens the door for Micah before heading out himself. Micah's pocket beeps—or, more precisely, his phone does from therein. “Your tea should be ready, Flicker, just...scoop the tea ball out of it. The other was...just in case Dusk woke up, honestly.” He swipes at the phone to stop the alarm, waving to Flicker as he moves into the hall. “Take care, guys.”