[Closed] Showing the Ropes

[Meraki]

Morning, 23 Dentis 2719

“Oh sure I’ve worked on a dock before,” insisted Meraki without the slightest hesitation.

The foreman grunted once and seemed more interested in a stack of papers clipped to a board than in the eager young wick that’d gotten sent his way.

“Not a harbor dock, right, but a sort of dock. Or ramp,” added Meraki in a chipper tone. He rubbed at his cold hands. How were the mornings on the waterfront so dang cold? “Not sure what you’d lot call it, don’t know the speak ‘round here. New and all. At a warehouse. It’s basically the same though. You’ve got your uh… ropes, and the things you tie them to, and I know the ropes!”

“You know any magic?” asked the foreman in a gravely voice. His eyes flicked up once, and Meraki saw that one of them was milky-blind.

“Ma-magic? Uh…”

“The wicks we got; they magic to help it along. Pull, and the like. Can you do that, boy?”

“Can I do that?” repeated Meraki, uncertain, then he laughed and repeated it in a forcibly confident tone, “Can I do that! Why, of course I can! The fellah over there, he said you pay uh… a shill a day, right?”

The foreman snorted and said, “Awful try. It’s four tally if you stay til dark. Five if you work after dark hits til the whistle blows. Eight if you work clean through morning.”

“And for a wick?” tried Meraki, in a serious tone. He made direct eye contact. “Given the use-ful-ness of the magic and all?”

The man grunted, surveyed the area around them, but they were mostly alone except for some other dockworkers passing by. He said, “Maybe a bonus, if you make use of it. We’ll see. What’s your name?”

“T—Meraki,” he said, hands in his pockets, and he looked over at the dockworkers going to different spots. “So where am I headed, boss?”

The foreman scratched down something on the paper, then tore off a tab and handed the folded paper to him. “Don’t lose this. When you’re done, you come turn it in. You take off, at any time, for any reason, it’s gonna be considered abandoned and you won’t get even a fort from any of it. Go work down on that dock there, ask for Gideon, he’ll show you... the ropes.”

Meraki caught the slightest hint of amusement on the grizzled foreman’s face. Was that a snicker he heard? He frowned slightly, not sure what was so funny, but he shrugged it off and grinned instead. “Gideon! Got it! Thank ye, sir, won’t let ya down!”

The wick fixed his fingerless gloves some, then snapped his vest so it wasn’t as wrinkled looking as it actually was (he’d been sleeping in the same clothes for over a week now). His honey-blond hair hung flat around his brow, mostly covered by a woolen cap he’d pulled over the oily unwashed strands. He strode down to the dock where the foreman had pointed.

“Mornin’!” he greeted the other workers while he passed them by, eager and cheerful with waves to the strangers. None of them paid much mind, other than slight frowns or bemused archs of eyebrows. He noticed another wick not too far away, though judging from the hair and the tattoos, it was most definitely a spoke. Meraki averted his gaze and hoped that the spoke wasn’t Gideon.

“Looking for a Gideon?” he asked the dockworkers, wandering around the dock while the men worked on getting things set for a ship coming in.

“There a Gideon here? Old guy with the blind eye sent me over, says to show me the ropes. Hello, are you Gideon?” he asked a bulky bald man. The man snorted, then pointed down the way toward someone at the very end of the dock.

Meraki followed the gesture, to a human male with black hair and tan skin. He waved as he approached, and called, “Ahoy, you there! You Giddy-on? Name’s Meraki, I’m new. Here to give a hand, maybe even two!”

“What y’ doing there?” he looked to eye whatever it was the man was doing. If he were meant to learn from him, best to start as soon as he could. He needed to watch closely… he’d never worked on a dock before, after all.

[Peregrine]

23 of Dentis, 2719- Morning
The Docks, Old Rose Harbor

Working at the docks didn't suit Gideon, not so much. Peregrine-as-Gideon was a tall enough man, well-built. But it weren't the right kind of build, and Peregrine weren't the right kind of man neither. Not much of any kind of man at all, really. They tried. Tried a fair sight harder than they ought to have. The thing of dockworking was that it weren't a job what asked a man many questions. Peregrine didn't know what kind of man Gideon was yet, and he weren't keen to have that found out by folks at large. Jobs that didn't ask many questions of a body were jobs where a thing like Peregrine could hide. In that way, it suited Gideon not at all, but Peregrine perfectly.

Gave them plenty of room and time to think, too. Not as Peregrine needed the thinking, but they had all the room for it. Not many of the other men took much of a shine to Gideon, even though Peregrine had tried being friendly-like. Smiled, even, at all of them. Peregrine had thought as Gideon would have had a good face for it, but the others didn't seem as taken with it as they would have hoped. After a month, Peregrine had stopped.

Real problem with all the thinking, of course, was where they were doing it. All that smell of salt and fish and sweat, the sound of sea birds and sailor's voices, put Peregrine entirely too much in mind of a different time. Different face--how many back was it? They couldn't remember, which hurt, and they tried to remember. Like prodding at a sore tooth, or a knife wound while it was healing up. The Rose had never been their port of call, no--they'd been in Mugroba then. Hadn't they? They had. They remember. Sand. And islands. And ships. They'd been in Mugroba and that had been home enough, but they'd been in the Rose enough too. Maybe should have picked a different place to be a Gideon, they'd thought, but now they were here and they hadn't thought of nothing else better. Not yet. Hard to find a place as good for a Gideon to disappear into as Ol' Ring-Around-the-Rosie.

The name made Peregrine smile to themself. Chuckled a little too. There was a song, weren't there, what went a little something like that? A song for children. Peregrine had heard it--knew it-- from where, or when, they didn't remember. Didn't seem important, not like the bit about being a sailor. Peregrine started humming it under their breath. The song became tuneless and flat, wrenched out of any recognizable context, but it weren't as they worked real close to nobody else much. Humming a little tune amused them enough, hey? They were what mattered, really.

Weren't often as folks distracted Peregrine from their work. So it was that they ignored it when they first heard their name, not recognizing the voice and sure it was a mistake. It weren't until the man approached close enough for Peregrine to feel the edge of his glamour that they looked up with a frown. Their hands paused in their work. Peregrine frowned. Didn't like to feel of fields, not glamours neither. The mona always got so fussy when they were around. Made them nervous, or angry, or both.

Peregrine had stopped, and drew themself up to Gideon's full height. The wick was shorter than Gideon, smaller. Cheerful. Peregrine did not smile, looking at the wick--the Meraki, he'd said--with their unblinking dark gaze. They didn't like the way they said Gideon's name, not at all. Weren't wrong, but weren't right either. Peregrine liked Gideon. Had picked it out special.

"Work," they said slowly, not quite understanding why Meraki was here. Their low voice sounded creaky, unused--when was the last time they spoke to someone? Few days, they thought. Maybe longer. Weren't so sure. Didn't have to say much to work, long as everything got done. And it weren't like they had friends. They stepped a little closer to Meraki, looking down at them with a frown on their sharp face.

"Don't need a hand," they added, after a long moment's silence. They held up one of Gideon's, as if to demonstrate the point--they had hands already. Even if they weren't as the right kind of hands. The hand that they held out chose that moment to start shaking, even though they'd been getting along with them all morning. Peregrine growled in displeasure and put the hand back down. They didn't move back from Meraki, still towering over him with a scowl fixed on their face.

[Meraki]

Don’t need a hand.

“Oh… uh....” Meraki hadn’t been expecting that. He looked up at the tall, lean human. The wick glanced at the hand, and noticed it trembled and shook... and then the man growled at him. Well, wasn’t he just a pleasant sort? Meraki understood why the foreman had snickered, now.

The wick wasn’t about to give up that easily, though. He frowned and mirrored the scowl on the other man’s face – as if he were trying to mimic it. He shimmied his shoulders, cleared his throat, then deepened his voice as well. He tried to sound as gruff as he could, when he responded, “Right-oh, uh… how ‘bout I watch ya then?”

“I’m gonna stand right there,” Meraki pointed to the side and took a step away from the intimidating man. His field jittered around him. He couldn’t keep the frown that easily, and it eased away from his features. “You need me, I’m right here. Ready to be of use. You just… give me a shout or...”

Meraki nodded. He glanced at the nearby spoke who’d been watching, with amused glances, and who quickly looked away when Meraki caught him doing so. He huffed, crossed his arms, and looked to see what it was that Gideon had been doing.

He watched for a couple minutes, waiting for this Gideon to get back to work so he could observe.

After another minute or so, Meraki looked around and picked up some rope he found to the side. He ambled over to stand directly beside the man. Meraki held out the coil of rope, and asked, “Did you need this, Giddy-on? Nod once for yes? Twice for no?”

“Say, you want a smoke? I got smokes… if y’ want one.” He cleared his throat. The wick patted down his vest until he found a wrinkled roll-up in the pocket. He held it out in a peace offering to the other man. “I could do whatever that is that you're doing there, while you smoke?”

[Peregrine]

23 of Dentis, 2719 - Morning
The Docks, Old Rose Harbour

Watch them? Meraki wanted to--watch them? Doing... this? Peregrine watched him as he scowled back, trying to mirror the expression they'd twisted Gideon's face into. Squared his shoulders and deepened his voice, too. Like he was trying to look intimidating, even though Gideon easily had a head on him in height alone. Peregrine raised their eyebrows, though the scowl did not leave their face. Didn't like it, feeling their glamour all up against them. Mostly they found the wicks in question didn't much like it either, and stepped away from them fair fast enough. Easier when they were one, and they could pass it off like some kind of accident.

"If you want," they allowed, puzzled. At least he'd stepped away, the blond wick's glamour no longer skittering across Peregrine's skin. Reminding them what they were. Nosy fucking mona, couldn't leave a body alone. Weren't like they asked to be what they were, now or Before.

Peregrine didn't look around, and didn't see the other docker watching with amusement. Not that it would have mattered much if they had. This happened, from time to time. Men got sent to Peregrine, and Peregrine couldn't tell which of them it was supposed to punish. This one seemed friendly enough. Peregrine hummed, distressed and tuneless. They'd just resolved to go back to their work, feeling more settled at the withdrawal of Meraki's glamour, but then he came to stand next to them again with a rope in his hands. Said their name again in that funny way too, not quite wrong but not quite right either.

"Gideon," they corrected. "And no. Ent need that. Checkin'."

Peregrine hadn't been moving the crates, not as yet. Had to check them first, make sure what was supposed to be in them was what was, and that it all were intact. Didn't check every crate, of course--sometimes because there weren't no need, and sometimes because they were asked not to. Peregrine knew the kinds of things men hid in crates they didn't want other men looking inside of. They also knew there weren't nothing for them inside of them, not ever, so they didn't look and all was well.

When Meraki held out the cigarette, they knew it for what it was. They didn't smoke, of course, not no more. Not in this face, anyways. Bad for the health, smoking was. Peregrine didn't mind being around others what did, but they'd done it enough lifetimes to know it weren't good for a body. They tried to keep their bodies in good shape, generally speaking. Peregrine stared at the rolled-up thing for a long, unblinking moment. Then turned that dark, heavy gaze to Meraki instead.

"Ye any good with detail work?" They paused for a second, then added in their flat, inflectionless way. "Ye read?"

[Meraki]

Meraki watched Gideon. He listened to the tall man’s rather awful humming. He didn’t think he’d ever heard anyone so tuneless and… sounding like the opposite of why a person should hum. His field almost shivered in reaction. Meraki gnawed on his lower lip, in thought, then went and gathered the rope to see if the other man needed it.

Sure, Gideon was intimidating and weird, but Meraki figured there had to be something he could do to make himself worthwhile and get some tally from the day ahead. Plus, he wanted to get to know the docks, and none of the other men seemed keen to teach him either. Maybe they were used to young men like him, coming through, and he understood that well enough. So, he’d keep to who the foreman had set him with. If anything, if he made it to the end of the day, maybe the foreman would be impressed or something and give him that bonus. It was a very slim chance, but it was still a chance.

The man repeated his name. At first, Meraki didn’t know why. It was odd enough, however, that he slowly turned it over in his head and realized so he said, “Gi…ddy-on?”

He cleared his throat, then tried again, “Gid…dyawn. Giddyawn.”

Meraki smiled at the other man, as if he’d just accomplished something worth smiling about. He tossed the rope aside without much care. He looked to the crates. He forced another serious expression, and nodded solemnly at the stoic explanation: Checking.

The wick tried a different tactic to get the other man to liven up. He held out the offered cigarette… waiting… his field started to shudder, as the time in which Gideon stared at the roll-up felt far too long. He slowly started to pull his hand back, away from the man, and almost felt like taking a step back. Only when he saw the dark, heavy gaze, Meraki ground his heels into the wooden planks instead. As if determined not to budge from his spot.

“Detail work?” he repeated, with an upward inflection of confusion. He blinked, then also said, “Do I read? …do I read… Why of course I read!”

He dryly laughed and set a hand to his hip. Since it hadn’t been accepted by the man, he set the cigarette between his own lips. Meraki made a twirled gesture with his hand, though what for or what it was supposed to mean… wasn’t clear, probably even to an ordinary sort of person, and he said, “I read all sorts of things too! Pamphlets, and flyers, and uh…”

Meraki frowned, then scratched the back of his head. He snapped his fingers and said, “Those paper things you can find about sometimes, with the pictures in ‘em… newspapers! Right, newspapers. I’ve read them before. And this...”

He hurriedly reached behind to his back trouser pocket, then pulled out a rolled-up tome that looked more like a journal than a book. It was crumpled, and creased, wrinkled, and frayed at the edges with stains along old worn leather. The pages stuck out at awkward angles, not cut right and not matching up with each other. He unrolled it, then patted the front where a geometric symbol had once been engraved on the leather cover, but it was faded and not as obvious in shape anymore. “Read this every morning and night!”

Meraki grinned at the other man, then rolled the spoke's almanac back up and put it in his pocket again. “So yup, I read. Probably good at detail work, then, if that’s what it takes. Why?”

[Peregrine]

23 of Dentis, 2719 - Morning
The Docks, Old Rose Harbour

Peregrine grunted. Still weren't right, the way the little wicklet said their name, but they weren't as inclined to press the issue. Didn't matter. Would be rid of him soon enough, same as everyone else. A day of working with Peregrine tended not to be an experience as many folks would like to repeat.

So he could read. That was good; were plenty of folks working the docks who couldn't. Plenty of folks all over who couldn't. Peregrine eyed Meraki again with their unblinking stare. They blinked once, slow and deliberate. Weren't a spoke, could see that clear enough. Not tyat neither, could see that too even if they didn't know much what that was as yet. Something that grew up while he weren't looking, as things tended to do. Ne, had to be raised all in one place, this one. Idly Peregrine wondered where, but they released the question into the sea of their mind as unimportant. Weren't likely to be interesting, all told.

"Good." The acknowledgement of Meraki's literacy was short and clipped. They frowned at the Almanac he waved about. Didn't like it, didn't like any magic at all. They had tried, in a few different faces. Hadn't worked, mona hadn't liked them much at all, crawling all over them like ants on a dead bird. Dead falcon. Dead Peregrine--but they weren't dead, hey? They were alive, and would always be alive, and the mona could stuff their disapproval. They were winning that argument, weren't they?

A dry, rasping laugh escaped Peregrine. They didn't know what Meraki would think they were laughing at, and they didn't much care. Their own personal joke, on the whole world. Peregrine gestured to the manifests they'd carefully lined up with each crate, to make the checking work go easier.

"Check the crates against the list. Unless you see as they ent meant to be checked. Then don't." They judged their instructions sufficient, and nodded to themselves, satisfied. Immediately they turned back to their own work, carefully checking the items in front of them against the list in their hand. It was slow work, had to be done careful-like. But not too slow, or a man would never get done. Didn't get paid extra to stay late on account of being too slow, not at all. The hook slung through their belt pressed against their body when they leaned over, heavy and sharp. As Peregrine checked, they started up their tuneless humming again.

After a moment they paused, remembering something. They turned to Meraki and scowled. "And stay back from me." They didn't like the way Meraki's glamour felt when he got in range, not at all. Didn't want it distracting them from their work, all those little ants crawling around. Long as the boy stayed out of range, that were good enough for Peregrine. Didn't wanna start no kind of trouble, but the little cloud of ants made them forget as to be quiet. Couldn't avoid it all the time, but this was work. A man needed to be able to do his work, they thought, without all them angry ants against them.

[Meraki]

The dry, raspy laugh escaped the human… and Meraki wasn’t sure as to why. It sent a shiver down his spine, too. However, the wick offered an echoed laugh to match along with it, even though he had absolutely no idea what they were laughing about. A laugh was better than most things, in his approximation. Better than a silent glare, any case. His smile returned, and he double-checked that his almanac was good.

“The list,” he murmured, not sure what that was. Not until he watched, and observed, as the tall man started to check a paper in his hand. He hesitated, then admitted, “I don’t got the list myself...”

He stepped closer and peered around Gideon’s arm to read over the list. Most of it he could make out. There was some shorthand that confused him, though. He glanced between the words and the crate that Gideon was checking. The tuneless humming started up again. The wick chewed at his cigarette some, unsure, then he placed the roll-up back in his pocket.

When the man turned back, with a scowl, and told him to stay back… Meraki blinked. His lips twisted in a momentary frown of frustration. A scoff racked through him. His shoulders lifted from a wave of tension. His field flexed quite suddenly. He turned and stepped away. Meraki looked at the next crate. He looked back at Gideon. With a firm glare fixed on the man, he dragged it up and pushed the crate farther away – all the way opposite the dock’s width to the other side. As far away he could get from Gideon while still being on the same line as him.

Then he looked down at the crate and sighed. He let go of the momentary anger. Meraki scratched the back of his head. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do if he didn’t have the list, or any list for that matter, to check against. Meraki did have experience with crates though. He looked around, found the nearest crowbar, then came back over. Nestling the crowbar under the nailed top, he swiftly moved around the four sides to lift the top off.

He slid it aside, then stared at what looked like a ton of dry straw. Meraki dusted aside the straw to see boxes bundled underneath. He picked one up, turning it over. It reminded him of a shoebox, and he wondered what was inside. The wick leaned close, pressing his ear against it, and he gently shook the box. A grin crossed over his features.

It seemed working at the docks could turn out as a worthwhile use of his time, he realized now. Just like warehouse gigs. Of course, he needed to secure enough trust first… he glanced at Gideon again. Winning that scowly guy over seemed like a lost cause. Meraki looked forward at the other dockworkers. The spoke was probably out of the question. He had a hard time convincing spokes. His gaze slid over to the bald, burly man from before. Maybe him. He could do. And the foreman, too. He just needed to seem like he was doing his best, working as hard as he could. A good, honest lad making coin on the docks rather than submitting to a life of crime and indecency.

“Say, Gid-yawn,” he called over, his voice raised enough to be heard by most others – as if he were all the way across the harbor rather than just a few paces opposite. “You sure I can’t work closer to you, mate!?”

[Peregrine]

23 of Dentis, 2719 - Morning
The Docks, Old Rose Harbour

Stay back, Peregrine had said, and Meraki had scowled. Well let him--Peregrine weren't concerned with the feelings of one pushy little wicklet. Magic he might be, but he was still smaller and younger than Peregrine-as-Gideon. Might not look it, of course. Bit of a baby face, eh? Must be all that good living what kept them so youthful. Peregrine did so try to live good, didn't they. Meraki flexed his field and they thought, here we are and I'm gonna have to do something ent I, but he stopped and backed away after all. Good. Peregrine didn't much care if the crate had gotten pushed all the way into the sea. There were plenty enough folks around to know it weren't Peregrine what did it, and Peregrine had no particular fondness for the contents of the crates themselves.

They turned back to their work. Almost done with this one, and they weren't needing to check the one next to it. That was why there weren't no manifest on it. Anything that was in it was as it should be, as far as some docker like them was concerned. Peregrine didn't make it their business to know what was in the unmarked crates. Simpler that way. Nothing to forget if you just didn't know. Except--where was the next crate?

It was that moment that they heard it, the sound of a crowbar prying the crate open. The crate they weren't supposed to check, on account of how whatever was in it was what was in it. Peregrine whirled around to see Meraki digging through it, touching the contents. They scowled again. Weren't it obvious? There weren't no manifest on that crate! Couldn't check without the list, could you? The little-- Peregrine felt anger ooze up, black and slow. Like tar.

In a few strides, Peregrine crossed to the other side of the dock with Meraki and the box. Their fist clenched around the handle of the hook at their belt, weight comforting. This was why they didn't like working with others, they thought. It weren't their fault. It was just that people didn't understand their system and then they got into things that they shouldn't.

"Shut that back up." Peregrine kept their hand at their side. A muscle in their face twitched, involuntary--the body were acting up again. Why now? Was it all the little ants? Peregrine thought it must be the ants, all over them. Finding all the little holes to pour into. "Ent need to check that one." Their voice was smooth all over, no anger in it at all. It was just the face that looked angry.

[Meraki]

There were so many smaller boxes inside of the crate… and whatever was inside them, Meraki wanted to know. He dug the dry straw aside, while he called out to his assigned mentor to little effect… except for that the taller man was coming over now. Tension gathered in his shoulders. His instincts went near-wild, to the point that he dropped the box he held and looked over to see an ominous angry scowl on the human’s decent visage.

“Huh?” he responded back. He looked to all the shoeboxes in the crate, then back at Gideon. The wick blinked, then he realized why the other man was so angry. This crate wasn't supposed to be checked. Red gathered on his face. He frowned, then walked around the crate to put it between him and the human. Another shiver traveled down his spine. He took a deep breath, fixed the straw so the boxes were covered.

With a heave, he lifted the top back on and settled it. Meraki picked up the crowbar, and used the blunt side to hammer the top down again. He glanced at Gideon while doing so, distracted by that scowl and the awful feeling. Why was it that a human was causing so much disquiet in him? He wondered about this some. He’d never felt this way with anyone before… like a mixture of disgust and the sort of paranoia that climbed into the back of the head when you were in the dark, but you knew you weren’t alone anymore... you just didn't know what was with you.

There was, Meraki decided right then, something off about Gideon.

He didn’t know what. He didn’t know why. But there was something.

Meraki stepped away from the crate, finished… Only he’d hammered the top at an awkward angle. It didn’t seal like a box, but awkwardly bent so there was a sliver of space between the wooden frames. He stared at the awful job he’d done, the heat in his face feeling unbearable. He tried to remember what he’d just thought – about the docks being a good opportunity, for many reasons. He tried to hold onto this purpose, to keep himself from throwing down the crowbar in frustration.

Instead, the wick grumbled, then hurried to crack off the top once again, so he could try to nail it back down. This time, he’d do it properly.

A couple of the nails gave way from the side that he crowbarred this time. They fell onto the dock, bent and bouncing, and then rolled off into the nearby water. Meraki stared at the spot where the ripples showed in the gentle waves.

He slowly looked over at the tall man, forced the slightest shy smile, and said, “…You- uh… You have any extra nails, Gideon?”

Meraki said the man’s name right this time.

[Peregrine]

23 of Dentis, 2719 - Morning
The Docks, Old Rose Harbour

It didn't escape their attention, the way Meraki put the crate between the two of them. Was almost inclined to laugh at it, him running away like that now when just a moment ago he was so determined not to leave them alone to do their clocking work. Seemed as though he weren't deliberately poking around where he weren't wanted, at least--just stupid then. Peregrine didn't want to work with stupid much, but it was a sight easier to deal with than sneaky. Could still be sneaky, but this weren't him being so. Mattered, the difference between sneaky and dumb.

They didn't lift a hand to help, just watched with their expression--to them--neutral. Peregrine's "neutral" expression was, to most, a dark scowl. Didn't help them as to stay so neutral-looking when the ants were close enough to feel, but they could be ignored. Peregrine was real good at ignoring the ants now. So many years of practice had made them so. Watched as Meraki tried to hammer the top of the crate back on, and watched too while he fucked it up. Peregrine could probably have helped, or let the lad know that he'd done wrong, but they hadn't been asked so they didn't.

Couldn't help but sigh when some of them nails bounced off into the sea, though. Their hand relaxed on their hook, their temper lowered. Weren't Meraki's fault he was stupid, they supposed. And he seemed like he weren't inclined to leave, neither. Besides, he'd finally said Gideon's name right.

"Got a few. C'mere." They gestured at the wick to follow, then turned to walk a bit away from the boxes they had been inspecting. They had a toolbox, battered but in obviously decent repair, from which they took out a handful of nails. They held these out to Meraki with their expression still neutral.

"Ones without lists ent need checkin'," they added flatly. "Ent all of 'em need it. Ent all of 'em to be opened." That seemed obvious to them, but maybe the wick had never worked this sort of job before. Peregrine could be friendly, they thought. Or rather, Gideon could. Maybe Gideon was the friendly sort. Certainly that would be new for them--to be friendly. They'd tried, but it never quite seemed to stick. Hard to be friendly when folks tended as to avoid being too close to you, physically.