After the Ball (Don't try the curried Escargot)

Mikoto and Ikuto have elected to leave the Infinity Ball early. Things had gotten a bit too, well, /everything/, and they wanted a bit of privacy to discuss things... and to get a meal that hadn't been first ransacked by Kyouko and Usagi.

Mikoto had suggested a Thai/French fusion restaurant that she knew, and the two were off. The chauffeured car Mikoto's family had provided - the one that had picked up Ikuto at Seiyou and delivered them both to the ball- was waiting for them at the side of the road, a uniformed driver waiting with the door open.

Yeah... there was a lot going on at the charity ball. The punch had been spiked and he really didn't want to get drunk; he didn't like not being in control of himself. There were some very big eaters present, and things had started to just spin out of control. Ikuto had been a little afraid to stay much longer, actually. Who knows what might have happened? Teachers might have started dancing on tables with lampshades on their heads!

Anyway. After leaving the ball, he follows Mikoto to the car quietly. Ikuto knows a little about the whole 'gentleman' routine. He just rarely uses the knowledge. Here, though, he decides to. He nods politely to the driver, and then extends his hand to Mikoto. He's helping her into the car. Like a gentleman, right?

Having whispered their destination to the driver, Mikoto gladly accepts the help, no complaints about chauvinism here. This is the girl Ikuto called 'Princess', after all, and it seems like she's comfortable enough with the part. She slides deftly into the car, then deeper in to make room for him.

The car is no limo, nor a fancy and extravagant show-car like a Rolls-Royce, but it's a distinctly comfortable luxury sedan. And it's got a closed partition between the back seat and the front, for privacy.

Mikoto smiles gently as the two settle in, hands folded neatly in her lap as the car pulls away from the curb. Then she reaches out, one hand resting on the seat cushion next to Ikuto's knee. "Thank you," she murmurs.

Ikuto doesn't really notice the car as he gets in, apart from the privacy window. Good, that means their conversation won't be overheard. He doesn't want to get her in trouble, after all. Or himself in trouble! Now the question is, how to begin such a conversation...

Fortunately Mikoto picks a less immediately whapped-over-the-head one. He nods in response. "You're welcome," he replies quietly. He crosses his legs, and then folds his arms over his chest. That's something he never really loses, though. His posture's almost always closed-up. Unless he's being a jerk. Which, surprisingly, he isn't tonight.

Not that she isn't briefly tempted to indulge in a bit of whapping over the head, as Ikuto folds his arms. She clenches her hand against the leather seat, if she had claws she'd be ripping into it. Good thing she doesn't.

"I meant what I said, you know," she says, softly. "I don't care if it isn't easy. It's -right-." She's known for a while now that Ikuto has his secrets. She doesn't ask what they are. Just that he let her help.

Ikuto's kind of oblivious where certain things are concerned. The possible desire of wayward princesses to hold onto his hand in the car is one of things he's oblivious about, apparently. He keeps his head angled down and his gaze fixed on his knees.

...Is he nervous? Surely not. He's Easter's Black Cat, the Black Cat of Misfortune. What could he possible have to be nervous about? He's just aloof.

...To tell the truth, he /is/ nervous. He's got the sneaking suspicion he's letting Mikoto too close. That's a bad thing; she'll just get hurt by Easter if she gets too close to him. They'll pull her in and ruin her like they ruined him...

Her words don't register for a moment. But he he does tilt his head up, pausing a moment to replay the last few moments in his head. He heard, he was just elsewhere mentally. Not easy but right? "...It's selfish to expect the people you care about to shoulder your burdens," he says finally. His voice is still quiet. "It's just heaping your own responsibilities on someone else."

There's another pause. "...And sometimes there's someone waiting for you. So they can spin a web around whoever you bring down," he notes softly. "Sometimes if you fall there's no way you'll get up again, even with help."

Is Mikoto nervous? Quite possibly. She's pushing where maybe she shouldn't, not just with the hand-holding, but the other question, as well. She's gotten used to getting her way, and to knowing what strategy to use to accomplish that. But this isn't one of her games. It's real, and there are real lives at stake, including hers.

She wants him to let her in. To trust her. To believe in her. But if she pushes too hard, she might push him away. And she doesn't want that. She very much doesn't want that. "It's not selfish to accept help freely offered," she finally says. He never did ask her for anything like that. "And maybe that -is- "someone else's" responsibility," she adds.

She'd suspected that there was someone else involved, from the things he'd said. The way he implied he had no choice. After the way she'd seen how the other heroes trusted him, at the Halloween brawl, it was clear that he wasn't personally a bad guy. "Yeah," she agrees. "It's a risky thing, isn't it?" Wait, she's agreeing with him?

Before he can answer, the car has arrived at the restaurant. She'd said it wasn't far. The driver hands them both out at the door, before heading off to park and wait for them. The maitre'd greets Mikoto by name (well, family name, at least), and escorts the young pair to a table. A waiter meets them there, holding the chairs for them to sit, passing out menus, and taking their drink orders.

Ikuto remains quiet as Mikoto speaks. He doesn't know where the restaurant is, but he figures if he stalls long enough they'll be there and he won't have to answer just yet. Because he's really got to think about that one. He doesn't want to reveal a lot about his situation. He'd already said too much about it! So he doesn't want to completely ruin any out he might have.

...OH THANK GOD. Yes, the restaurant wasn't too far away, so he didn't need to stall too very long. He exits the car, heads in with Mikoto. Though he does raise an eyebrow at the maitre'd greeting Mikoto by name. Even if it's her family name. He doesn't ask though.

He orders something non-alcoholic for a drink, and picks up his menu to look at it. ....Yeesh what's he going to say? He needs to say something right? Since that's how a conversation works, isn't it? But then what should he say? He'd already said too much. Augh this is so frustrating!

"...What do you recommend?"

...SIGH. Not exactly the best way to start a conversation again. But it's a nice and safe topic, so there's that. Hopefully it doesn't sound as lame to her as it sounds to him...

Mikoto takes her seat, sliding in with the casual grace of someone who frequents this kind of restaurant. She too avoids alcohol, knowing that even asking for it might get reported to her father, and goes with a soda instead. She listens attentively as the waiter describes the evening's specials, then nods and lowers her head to peruse the menu.

"Stay away from the red curry escargot," she murmurs, once he's out of earshot. "And don't even ask about fugu, that has to be arranged in advance." They have a fugu chef on staff? -Classy-.

She lets the conversation lapse for a few minutes while they both decide what to order. She calmly fields any questions Ikuto may have about menu items, pointing out a few things she'd found particularly well-done, and a few others that weren't (though none receives quite as much vehemence from her as the escargot).

Oh, specials are being detailed, good. Ikuto's not sure about eating snails. He's not really what one would call adventurous where cuisine is concerned. So most of his questions will probably what the spice level of various dishes is. He's a little disappointed about the fugu though. He likes fish. Which is probably a pretty predictable thing for him, given she's seen him sporting cat ears that weren't on a little headband.

He'll settle on something mild, that's not too hot in either spice or temperature. Maybe there's some truth to the 'cat's tongue' expression after all!

There are plenty of fish dishes to be had that aren't fugu, fortunately, and Mikoto is glad to help Ikuto pick out one that's to his taste. Soon enough the order is placed, and the waiter delivers the young couple's drinks.

"So," she muses, once they're temporarily alone again. "Do you think I'd look good with a set of cat ears of my own?"

Ikuto nods to the waiter as the drinks are brought out. He leans back in his chair to wait for his meal, crossing his arms again. And then Mikoto asks that question. He gives a quiet, choked sound of surprise. Then he sighs a little. he smirks. "Some people would say any girl would look good with a pair of cat's ears," he points out. "Especially since they have those that move in response to brainwaves now."

Mikoto nods, with a playful grin. "Oh, I wouldn't need those," she confides. "I could fake it easily enough, the same way I did the special effects for the force-fields at the Halloween party." Virtual matter and programmable Barrier Jackets are -cool-. She could probably manage a tail, too.

She takes a sip of her soda and keeps smiling. "They look good on you, too," she says.

Ikuto raises an eyebrow. Special effects? "Pretty sophisticated special effects," he notes. After all, they were literally holding back attacks. Then again, that might be her story. So he's not going to blow her cover. Besides, he's pretty sure 'hard light' is a thing, even if he's only heard it in the context of science fiction.

The lights are kind of dim in here, so the sudden slight reddening of his face might actually be a trick of the light. Though it did seem to happen right when Mikoto complimented him on the cat ears. "...I'm kind of stuck with them," he comments.

Mikoto nods, "Special effects. To make them fit the costume. Usually they look different." She touches a fingertip to the table, and a small Belkan-style rune-circle appears atop the tablecloth. It's small, and not very bright, so as not to be visible to anyone but Ikuto and herself. "Like this," she explains, "It's a small version of the big one I get for a serious attack spell." You might have een it, flaring around her feet in mid-air, when she joined the fray atop the WPS building last month.

Ikuto looks to the finger on the table, and the magical circle. Oh yes, he recognizes it. But if she didn't tell him immediately, she doesn't want him to know. And he's the last person who should be complaining about keeping secrets from people. He nods. Though he smirks, and notes, "You could make a mint if you went into special effects for movies or plays."

Mikoto's smile widens, her eyes gleaming with mirth as she dismisses the circle and looks back up at Ikuto. "Maaaaybe," she muses. "I'd rather help my friends, though. They're a lot more valuable to me than any amount of money." It's not as if she's -poor-. Especially if she can eat at a place like this often enough that they recognize her when she drops in.

"...That and you can't really let people know," Ikuto replies. "About the magic, I mean." Trust Ikuto to turn the situation away from the topic Mikoto was trying to get at. He doesn't talk about his friends much. "I don't know what would happen if all this stuff became public knowledge."

"Neither do I," Mikoto answers, "But it's probably not good." Speculation is interrupted by the arrival of our meals, piping hot and smelling delicious. Mikoto grins widely and digs in "Eat, eat," she urges you. "You don't want to miss this." Thai and French foods are an odd mix, but somehow it works, the tastes blending together in a symphony for the palate.

Ikuto keeps his talk of magic quiet when the meals arrive. He offers a polite nod of thanks to the waiter, and then picks up the napkin to put in his lap. Yeah, he knows the etiquette stuff too. He starts on his meal, giving a thoughtful 'Hm'. "Interesting mix of flavors," he comments. He doesn't sound displeased, either. And the fact that he does continue to eat also tells that he likes the meal. He eats slow, though.

Slow eating gives time to talk, and to think about what's being discussed. Mikoto waits until we're assured of privacy again before bringing up topics magical once again. "I told you it worked," she says, savoring a bit of her own meal. "You should trust me more," she suggests.

Ikuto gives a smirk. But he takes his time replying. While slow eating gives time to talk, eating gives him for him to justify stalling for an answer. So he waits until he doesn't have food in his mouth and notes, "Well, if you've been here enough for the maitre'd to recognize you, there must be something to the place." Yes, he picked that up.

She certainly -has- been here often enough to be recognized, and it's not just because of the place's cachet with the snob crowd. The food is genuinely good, and well worth enjoying. "So, how long have you been in the Game, then?" she asks, calmly and quietly. It's a casual enough question, but it's easy enough to guess which Game she means... for you, at least.

"...A few years," Ikuto replies. In a field where one's career is usually no more than five years anyway, that could be considered a pretty long time. He must have started pretty young. "You?"

"Long enough," Mikoto muses over another bite. "Long enough to know how dangerous it can be, most certainly." She leans back in her seat, dabbing her lips with her napkin. "On the other hand, it's not like there are more competant authorities to leave the job to."

Ikuto gives an affirmative sound at the mention of there being no one else to leave it to. He smirks a little. "'Want something done right, do it yourself', ne?" he quips.

"It's the only way to be sure." She flashes a little grin, her toe brushing his ankle under the table.

Wait, is she flirting with him?

"When it comes to my friends, I believe in making sure."

The brushing against his ankle sets off a chain reaction, and Ikuto freezes in place. His thoughts blank in sheer disbelief-- That had to have been accidental. And his thoughts STAY blank for a long moment after that, because implications and questions are suddenly fighting with each other in his head. What if she had done it on purpose? What did that mean? And the customary panic that he always carried, that fear that someone is getting too close, began to rise in his throat. A sense of dread started to settle in his chest.

Outwardly though?

...Ikuto's eyes go a bit wide at the brushing against his ankle. His back is suddenly straight and his posture tense. He doesn't give much of an outward sign of the great amount of turmoil going on his head. In fact, he acts as if she'd just accidentally brushed her foot against his ankle. Namely, he moves his foot out of her way. It's only then that he registers her words. And his response is a simple affirmative sound.

Maybe it was just a coincidence. It doesn't seem to be repeated. She was just stretching her legs, right? It's not like she shows any expression as Ikuto's leg moves away. That little smile is a near-constant, so it's not like it means anything. "Do you think you'll be in a mood for dessert?" she asks, entirely innocently.

The innocent tone seems to put him a little more at ease, and he seems to relax. What is he doing? All this is getting dangerous, and he needs to curtail this before it gets any worse. But he's finding that he genuinely enjoys her company. Enough that he usual snark seems to be deserting him. He really ought to do or say something horrible to her right about now. Something that would make her never want to see him again. Instead?

"Maybe," Ikuto answers quietly. "Did you have something in particular in mind?"

She certainly seems to genuinely enjoy his company, as well. She knows he can be dangerous... but that just makes it more fun. And he's cute, too.

"The hazelnut gelato is exquisite," she suggests. "Or if cake is your thing, the chocolate-raspberry torte cannot be beat." And neither can she, or so she'd tell you.

Ikuto definitely hears something he likes. He does like chocolate. Not for the sweetness of it, though. But anyway. "The torte sounds good," he agrees. "What else do they have? Is there a dessert menu?"

Mikoto looks down at her nearly-empty plate, and sets down her utensils. "Of course there is," she says. "Or they can bring by a sample platter and let you see the choices yourself." She slides her plate back slightly, clearly finished.

"A menu would be fine," Ikuto replies. He didn't want to attract a lot of attention, and rolling a big cart out or bringing out a big tray would attract more attention than he really cared to attract.

Mikoto nods, and plucks a leather-bound folder from the center of the table. "Have a look," she says, holding it open and offering it to you. How very convenient! And not the slightest bit of attention gathered.

Ikuto smirks a little. "...Convenient," he notes. Really, that was a little silly of him. He should have seen that. But he's not about to point out his own failings here. Even if he does want to smack himself for overlooking it. Guh, he must look like an idiot. Or like he was being intentionally dense.

"Do you know what you want?" he inquires. Since he's never been here, he'll need to look as opposed to knowing the menu pretty well and/or having a favorite. And he doesn't want to hold her up in looking at it if she needs to.

She does. "I mentioned the hazelnut gelato, yes?" She quiets briefly as the waiter arrives to clear away the plates and inquire after our dessert orders. She defers, waiting for you to choose something.

The menu lists a nice variety of options, all of them high-class and fancy - tiramisu, New York style cheesecake with blueberry compote, and so on.

There is a secret Ikuto's hiding. Well, another one. His tastes in deserts-- and food in general, really-- aren't as high-class as his reasonably generous income would indicate. And half of this stuff either he doesn't know what is or doesn't appeal. He likes the idea of that chocolate rapberry thing, though. So he decides, "I'll have the chocolate raspberry torte you mentioned. It sounds good."

"And I'll have the hazelnut gelato," she tells the waiter, who notes both down and asks if we would like coffee or tea with that. Once an answer to that is ascertained, he slips away.

Mikoto isn't a coffee drinker, it seems, but if you are, the option's open. Eventually the young couple is left alone again for a few minutes. "I'm glad it's been a quiet evening," she murmurs. "No interruptions... no emergencies... no parents...."

Ikuto politely declines the offer of coffee or tea. Whether that's because he's just 'dead common' or whether it's just because he's a teenager, he likes the taste of chocolate and soda together.

Ikuto frowns a little bit at the mention of parents. It's hard to tell if it's a disgusted look or a wistful one. He's difficult to read. "Once in a while the world stops falling apart long enough to take a breather."

He's trying really hard not to think about how ticked Kazuomi's going to be when he didn't bring in his quota of X-Eggs tonight. But honestly Kazuomi can sit and spin. Ikuto will pay for it later, but he's been busting his hump for two months now. He's earned a night off.

Mikoto nods, and smiles softly in satisfaction. "And sometimes it happens for more than one of us, yes? So we can have a nice evening together." The desserts are delivered shortly thereafter. 'Hazelnut gelato' looks an awful lot like ice cream, with a couple of sliced strawberries on the side. 'Chocolate raspberry torte' is an incredibly dense and rich chocolate cake, layered with raspberry filling and the frosting topped by curls of more chocolate, shaved right off the bar.

"It's a rare thing for me," Ikuto admits. "When the sky isn't falling, I'm working or going to school." Which is only half-true. He generally skips out on half of either one, and sleeps. He just stays as far away from Easter as he can, whenever possible.

Ah-ha! Ikuto can smell the approaching chocolate! When the waiter approaches, he actually turns his head to the side (notably, the side the waiter's approaching from), and seems to sniff the air a little, as if he could detect it.

"Well, school does take up a fairly good portion of my own time, too. That and training. It takes a lot of effort, to be as awesome as I am." Usually she's pretty modest about that sort of thing. Seems like you bring out the best in her. "And there's the family crap, too, but, well."

And scenting the air like that gets a little grin from Mikoto, her eyes brightening up as she finds yet another reason that Ikuto's worth more than the solemn dark stuff he drags around with him.

The torte is rich, and dense, and oh so decadently chocolatey, with the raspberry filling providing just the right bit of sweetness.

Ikuto smirks slightly at the 'awesome' comment. "Someone thinks highly of herself," he observes. That's a bit of a teasing note there. That that smile does fade a bit at the mention of the family crap.

BUT! This torte business. This is REALLY NICE. Ikuto doesn't much care for sweetness. He likes chocolate, though, not for the sweet, but because of the texture. Simple pleasures, right? Even if this thing is more expensive than several whole meals at a less high-class place, the texture and taste of chocolate and fruit is still a simple pleasure.

Yoru's going to be upset he missed out on this.

"Someone thinks highly of you, too," she parries, then takes a spoonful of her gelato, taking the time to savor it while she watches your reaction to the torte.

(And yes. Be -very- glad that Mikoto's parents are paying for everything tonight. The price of the cake alone would feed a family of six at Burger King. Twice.)

Soon enough, even the desserts are done and cleared away, and there's nothing to do but relax and enjoy the satisfaction of it, since both declined coffee or after-dinner drinks. (Not that they'd be served any. Mikoto's parents have an ... arrangement... with the restaurant. They pay her bills, she doesn't come by too often or with big parties, and they do. not. serve. her. alcohol.)

"It's been a great night," Mikoto finally says, after a long moment of comfortable silence. "You dance very well."

'It isn't me,' he wants to say, right back. But he doesn't. Because he knows the statement could very well act as bait to draw him out.

There is indeed a certain amount of satisfaction in just relaxing after a good meal in a place where someone's not constantly watching, constantly judging. It brings with it a certain mellowness that Ikuto hasn't been able to hold onto for any length of time. Not since his father disappeared.

Mikoto's compliment gets a small smile. Small though it is, it's a genuine one. "Thanks. So do you." and he can't resist a little bit of snark. "You didn't even step on my feet once." But it's offered in a teasing way, not a particularly mean one.

Mikoto's smile widens, mirth gleaming in those big green eyes as she lets out a polite little laugh. "Nor did you step on mine," she offers in return. She's got a bit of snark herself, to add, "It must be Fate."

And it's certainly more pleasant than any evening she's had with the snobs at Verone that her family keeps pushing on her. Sure, politics happens, but when it means pretending to actually -like- some of those jerks, well... she'll go with cat-boy any day.

"So... ready to head back?" she asks, as the time finally rolls around that we're really supposed to be heading there. She doesn't bother getting her phone out to call for the car, just having Carnwennan send a text through it to the driver.

Ikuto chuckles a bit at the mention of 'fate'. "I don't know about that. Plenty of people come into our lives, and then go out without making any real impact. Seems like wasted effort for all that to happen for a reason." A pause. "Not everyone goes so quickly into forgetfulness though." He may be indicating that she's one of those who won't.

The question gets a nod. "Kaz-- er, my... father will get worried if I'm out too late." The hesitation on the word 'father' is notable. Oh it was so hard for him to say that word.

"Destiny is someone else's plan for you. It's a good joke, but I believe in making my own path." She's said so before. Even if it means dragging a certain cute little cat-boy out of trouble by his ears. She certainly notes the hesitation, but prying would just bring up stuff that she really doesn't want to deal with when she's this mellow. There will be other times for that.

The car ride back is as comfortable as the ride up was. It's warm and comfortable, and Mikoto is content to just rest quietly against Ikuto's shoulder, unless he wants to chat more.

Ikuto keeps the talk of fate and destiny quiet for the time being. Though it's notable that when they get back into the car, he's foregone the closed-up posture that he took on the way to the restaurant. His legs are crossed as before. But one arm rests across his lap and the other rests next to him on the seat.

It's there in the car that he finally picks up that conversation again. "...I wonder... when should someone else's plan for you stop? Is living by your own rules just rebelling for the sake of rebelling?"

Mikoto rests her own hand atop his, on the seat between them. Leaning too close might be a bit much, but his shoulder does make a nice place to lay her head for a bit. She gives his hand a little squeeze, fingers twining with his on the soft leather of the seat.

"I think," she muses, "I think that that's something each of us has to decide for ourselves. Weigh all the things that go into it... ask yourself if it's helping you be a better person, or if they're just ... using you." Maybe she does see something of his troubles. Maybe she's projecting her own onto him. "If nothing else... ask yourself, am I doing what's right.... or what's easy?"

It's a good thing that in a dimly lit car at night, it would be difficult to see his face. Because Ikuto's face kind of reddens a bit when Mikoto takes hold of his hand. He can't really remember a time when people held his hand just because they wanted to, and not to keep track of him. The whole situation's just very odd to him.

Notably though, he doesn't pull his hand away. In fact... he turns that hand over so the palm faces up, making it easier for her to twine her fingers with his. It's an odd feeling. But at the moment he's willing to push away the feeling of panic that always rises when it looks like someone's getting too close to him.

Oh he knows Easter's just using him; Ikuto's never been anything to Kazuomi but a tool. "...I see." No, it's not easy pushing people away like this. But it's right. It keeps people from getting involved with Easter. It keeps Kazuomi's hooks out of people ikuto cares about. And it keeps Kazuomi from hurting Utau any more than he already does.

But if it's right... why does what he has to do feel so wrong?

Is it right? Or is it just easier than accepting the responsibility for letting themselves take on the danger of helping? That has been the thrust of her arguments on the topic, but she's not going to push, not now. Not when the evening's been so nice. She might have embraced the Knight's life, but she refuses to let it bind her.

Too soon, the car comes to a stop outside the Infinity building, to drop her off before returning Ikuto to his home. Or, well, whatever address he gives as his destination, at least. The driver steps over to open the door, holding it for her as she lingers in her seat.

"I had a wonderful evening," she murmurs. "Thank you." Before he can answer, she leans in closer, a soft, sweet kiss brushing his lips.

It's the only right way to end a date, after all.

Truth be told, Ikuto doesn't have a 'home', per se. He's got a place where all his stuff's at, but Easter pays for that. It's a pretty nice place, though. Just isn't 'home'. He rarely even sleeps there. But it's good for a cover for where he lives. He's trying to pretend to be normal, after all, and the driver probably doesn't even know about mikoto, much less anyone else.

The car pulls up at the Infinity building-- it occurs to Ikuto that Mikoto probably lives in the dorms there. He nods to the mention of having had a wonderful evening. "Same," he replies. And then suddenly something happens. Something that he never would have thought of.

Mikoto kisses him!

Ikuto freezes. Just absolutely freezes. His eyes go a bit wide. Just. What. That did not actually happen. Did it? Oh God it did. What did he do? Come on, cat, think!

Yeah, he's having a bit of a mental BSOD over here...

Before Mikoto can say anything, or do anything, in response to Ikuto's... nonresponse, there's the sound of a throat clearing. Twice. Apparently her parents have left the driver instructions on just how much she's allowed to get away with on a date, not just the restaurant.

Too soon, her face clouded with sudden anger at being reminded of that, she slides out of the car, with one last squeeze to Ikuto's hand before she rises.

"Thank you, Mister Reese," she tells the driver, rather curtly, as the door is closed behind her.

Just as coldly, he answers, "You're welcome, ma'am," stepping over to hold the dormitory door open for her.

It's only a minute or so later before he's back in the car, the partition lowered, and pulls away from the campus. "Where to, sir?"

Ikuto gives the address. But he is silent on the drive back to his house, arms crossed over his chest. He does thank the driver as he gets out. Thankfully his blush has finally faded by then, so he won't have to worry about the driver noticing it. Unaffected. Just look unaffected.

He opens the front door, enters.... and then leans on it and as he closes it behind him. Mow he's confused. Lovely. Just /wonderful/.

Sigh.