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#the captain writes
dredshirtroberts · 1 year
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love is little things.
like rubber ducks with gimmicks like hedgehog keychains like the color red, or green, or blue, or yellow, or purple like watching the anime that helped you meet like washing dishes because executive dysfunction only goes away if you're helping someone else like saying goodbye at the train station for a really long time because you don't want to go/let them go away
like folding laundry with all of the christmas on so when you come home you'll see nice things like chicken nuggets in the oven even though i've already eaten because you haven't eaten yet and I can do that for you
like irish breakfast tea in a mug i didn't know existed until i lived with you the flavor reminding me of my first tastes of freedom like not being anxious when my phone dings because that's now the sound of friends and love instead of fear and family
love is like a cat laying in the middle of a giant dog bed because he forgot it existed when it was in the corner he could very clearly see and reach and now he's curled up and sleeping on it every time I look
love is the little things
i'm small and i love you.
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ncutii-gatwa · 4 months
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really makes me laugh seeing some people complain doctor who is gay now. babe THIS aired in 2005. doctor who has been gay a long damn time get with the program
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loveindefinitely · 2 months
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task force 141 with a controversially young civilian girlfriend.
-> mentions of large age-gaps, referenced sexual content, alcohol use. afab!fem!reader. minor dubcon (everyone's drunk.)
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thinking that you're studying in uni. working on the side to try and afford rent and, if you're lucky, some noodles every other night. you don't really get seen compared to your friends, who go out clubbing and spend their spare time on dating apps.
one time, your friend drags you to a bar. not usually your scene, considering its clientele is more for tradies, and military-type men. not like the stuck-up blue collar boys at your uni.
cue you getting drunk off your ass, barely even standing, when you bump into one johhny mactavish.
he holds your elbows, your chest crashing into his. gentle with it, too -- kind and sweet and grounding.
"y'alright, lass?" he asks, a small smirk on his face, eyes darting across your frame greedily. he, in all fairness, looks nearly as drunk as you. he stumbles a little with your weight.
you giggle, tilting your head to look at him. say something stupid like, "you don't look like a student."
his brows raise, his dimples deepen. "aye, very smart, hen."
you preen with the compliment, a cheesy grin stuck to your face. you make no move to stand up and leave. you think your friend just left with a guy anyways.
johnny moves you, muscled arm around your waist as he takes you to a booth.
three other men sit in it, only one looking somewhere in a ten-year age bracket to you. they're all impossibly large, filling out the space with ease. your stomach swoops, but you easily blame the alcohol.
manoeuvring you so you sit in his lap, johnny's hand is a comforting weight on your waist. he huffs a laugh.
"didn't realise we were goin' for jailbait, soap," the youngest one chimes, dark features shining in the pub's dim light. his eyes trail your frame silkily.
you can't stop the roll of your eyes -- your inhibitions have made you senseless. "'m not, 'm completely," you drag out the syllables, "legal."
a hand on your thigh makes you jolt, and when you look over, a blonde man with a black medical mask raises an unimpressed brow. "got a problem, kid?"
you shoot him a weak glare. "not a kid. weirdo."
the arm around your waist tightens, as does the weirdo's hand encompassing your thigh.
"not scared of anythin', are you darl'?" the final man in the booth asks, hands folded together where they rest at the table. he looks at least double your age, and that simple fact along with his drawling words has your core tightening.
"what's there to be scared of?" you ask, stupidly. your head tilts to the side, unknowingly moving to rest on johnny's shoulder. he doesn't comment.
"miss bein' young and drunk," gaz sighs, hand softly gripping the gin sat on the table in front of him.
"you look young," your brows furrow, not understanding. how old could he really be, to act so nostalgic of your current predicament? "how old are you guys?"
it's an embarrassing question -- makes you feel like a child all over again. but your interest is quickly peaking, and your need for answers overpowers your need for decorum.
johnny's the one to answer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers.
"gaz, the pretty one over there, he's twenty-eight," he murmurs, heat stirring low in your gut as you nod mindlessly, meeting gaz's eyes.
johnny stokes his thumb over the skin of your hip, and you curl into him further -- stranger be damned.
"i'm thirty," he hums, and god, he sounds so fucking sensual you're about to melt into his arms. if you aren't already.
"the guy in the mask?" said man's hand tightens impossibly against your skin, fingers just shy of grazing your aching pussy, "he's thirty-seven. got a lot of experience, aye?"
you shudder.
"what about you?" you end up voicing, shyly meeting the last man's gaze. he takes a slow sip of his whiskey.
he leans back into the cushion, eyeing you carefully.
"forty-three."
your thighs squeeze together, and fuck, if that's not a turn-on. no matter how unsafe you should feel, surrounded by four military-grade, older men, it only manages to have you wet beyond belief.
all you can manage is one question.
"take me home?"
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luvit · 4 months
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breeding kink price but it’s the first time doing it raw with his younger!girlfriend and he can’t help himself. Like imagine it’s cold outside and he wants to cuddle with you in the living room and next thing you have him trying to (lovingly) cram his fat cock into his younger!girlfriend’s nice warm tight pussy. He can’t help but moan and whimper as he holds the urge to cum on the spot upon feeling the nice warmth and tightness around his cock.
(afab!reader, mdni 18+)
price thought it was a strange idea at first. what's the point of sticking his dick in you if not to fuck? get you all nice and pliant for him as he takes that sweet pussy? he soon comes to understand the appeal to it, but find that he can't last as long as he thinks.
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"stop movin'," he growls into your shoulder as you straddle him. he's doing his best to not buck into you, taking deep breaths as he hides his face into your neck.
"sorry. m'cold," you whine as you try to shift again to get comfortable. you grind into him on accident, moreso trying to to get your legs in a better position so that your hip doesn't cramp up. made you sink deeper onto him as a result. plunging him deeper into you and making his dick throb.
he's starting to regret his decision in accepting your new request. you were cuddling on the couch as he reads something in a book when you pitched the idea. he arched a brow and stared at you while you pouted up at him. how was he supposed to deny you when you said please so pretty? you told him it'd be okay to do it without a condom since you're not actually having sex. just keeping him warm inside of you. just being able to get comfortable as he fills you up to the brim in your little pussy. so when you sank down on him for the first time, he did his absolute best not to cum inside of you immediately.
feeling you raw for the first time was so new. like your walls were hotter as they gently massaged his dick. when you slowly took him inch by inch until your hips were flush against his. you could feel the way his balls would twitch against your ass every now and then. you suppress a chuckle ass he lets out a tiny groan.
"feels good. nice and warm," you tuck your head into his neck in a similar way he does to you. as opposed to him, however, you were enjoying being able to cuddle against him a lot closer. you were practically shivering earlier before you begged him to try cockwarming, even though you were pressed up against him to the cuddle. he refused to turn up the heat and stated that it'd be too hot. curse him for running hot all the time. so this was your next best solution. and it was working well.
"didn't know this's what the kids were into these days," he grits out while breathing in your scent. his hands massage at your hips before moving to your ass. he growls again when you giggle against him. "don't laugh. 'less y'wanna get punished."
"m'not a kid." you pull back and pout at him. he clenches his jaw and looks at you with a steely gaze.
"sound like one with the way you're whining."
not one to be taken lightly, you clench down on him to get a reaction out of him. he grunts again and spanks you this time. you can feel how his girth throbs inside of you and you know he's already at his limit. he lets out a whine this time.
"fuckin' brat. you want me to fuck you that badly? gonna let me cum inside you? gonna have to take it." he threatens- no, promises you if you don't stop acting up. now you're at a crossroads of if you want to tease him more or enjoy sitting on his cock just a little longer.
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do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere (reblogs welcome!)
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YOU MATCH THE 141 ON TINDER 💓
Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?
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I was only going to post these when I finished writing and everything but I'm just... SO FUCKING EXCITED 😭😭
spoiler: Johnny and Kyle are the ones managing Price's account (took covert pics of the captain) but they ask Ghost how to answer the questions and DMs in order to have "the right tone of voice" LMAO
I'll post the actual drabbles soon!!! 🙏
If you'd like to be tagged when this comes out, lmk! (via dm, question or even here) THE TAGLIST IS OFFICIALLY CLOSED, not accepting any more requests! (I'm sorry, there's just too many people on it)
[Read the FIC]
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clown-owo · 29 days
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not pictured: Acht flashback to growing up hearing DJ Octavio say vaguely gay shit about the captain of the Squidbeak Splatoon
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bleuu-moon · 2 months
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john price 🤝 cock and pussy rubbing
and if you add the forbidden love trope to it *chefs kiss* it’s so much hotter than actual s e x.
knowing he can’t fuck you, because he’s your captain/dads best friend/one of you are married etc. but things get heated after you’re left alone in some living area, somehow ending with you both locked in an intense, sloppy kiss, full of grabbing and moaning into each others mouths. it’s when he pulls you on top of him, that it changes, and instantly you feel his hard on bulging out his jeans, just where your pussy rests on his lap, sending electric shocks up your spine. but you half heartedly pull away, one of his hands still placed on the back of your head.
“w-we can’t.”
“shh, i know i know.” he mumbles, looking at you like a kicked puppy, sympathetically as his eyes switch from yours to your mouth. his hand that was placed your thigh, slips underneath your crotch, brushing past your hyper-sensitive pussy, making you move back slightly, finding the zip to his jeans, and slipping out his cock.
it flops back on his t-shirt that’s partially ridden up, looking down, he’s bigger than expected, a width that makes you gulp but makes your thighs automatically try to squeeze together.
“just let me feel you…please.”
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bratfiction · 4 months
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why do you hate me?
tf141 men reacting to their spoiled gf saying “why do you hate me?” when she isn’t getting enough attention.
warnings -> 18+, f!reader, dom + sub dynamics, brat taming, allusions of impact play [spanking], petnames.
CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE
“excuse me?”
john’s eyebrows raise almost comically high. if it wasn’t for the stern glare taking over his features, you’d be giggling by now. instead you stay standing in front of him, shuffling on your feet with the same big pout you murmured your dumb question through. you despise making him upset with you—
at the same time, though… you feel those little sparks in your tummy when he pushes himself back from his desk and pats his lap. beckoning you to come sit on those strong thighs so he can sweet talk some sense to you. your feet can’t move fast enough, shuffling in your soft socks against the carpet. the rough denim of his jeans rubs against your own uncovered thighs as you shuffle in his lap.
“don’t ya think you’re being a silly girl?” it’s a simple question, but one you’re not exactly prepared for nonetheless.
your eyes meet his and there’s no way you can possibly shy away from his gaze. so you nod dumbly, and john’s chest rumbles with an approving hum. a strong hand cradles the back of your head, coaxing you to relax against his chest so he can put an end to this bratty streak you have in you rearing it’s ugly head.
SIMON GHOST RILEY
“what the fuck are y’on about?”
“just forget it, simon.” you bite back, turning on your heel to march away from him.
you hear his heavy sigh and it’s only a matter of seconds before the pair of big hands he has squeezes your waist, pulling you back into him until he’s able to growl right over the shell of your ear. you turn your head, tilting it upwards and meeting his fury filled eyes. it takes everything in you not to grin wildly and piss him off more than you already have— especially when you can practically feel the soreness his fingers will leave behind in your sides already.
“dumb pet,” he grits out, “could never hate you, not even when you act like this…”
at those words, you press a gentle kiss to his masked lips. and you know for a fact he’s rolling his eyes, tired of your theatrical tendencies and outbursts, but that doesn’t stop him from nudging your nose with his own. from pulling you closer and snorting out a breathy laugh.
“you’re still gonna fuckin’ get it later, y’know that right?”
JOHNNY SOAP MACTAVISH
“how dare ye?”
you know— you just know— that you’ve really fucked up this time. why would you say such a thing? why would you be such a nasty girl to the man who does everything for you? sure, he didn’t have his eyes on you for a bit— bless him, he just wanted to decompress after some training. and here you come, stomping over to him like a proper fusspot.
in a second, you’re tugged into his lap by your wrist. you clumsily fall on top of him but johnny is quick to readjust you, to make sure you’re getting a good look at his disappointed face.
“do ye even know what you’re saying?” he speaks lowly, doesn’t care how much your bottom lip wobbles under his harsh tone, “because i really don’t think ye do.”
“johnny, i’m sorry— i really—” you attempt blubbering out. however he presses his thick index finger against your pout, shushing you in an instant.
“fucked up again, bonnie.” he tsks.
maybe he’s right. you don’t know what you’re saying. you know better; you know what he likes to be called when you two find yourselves in situations just like this one, when you need to be put in your place. that’s why you don’t resist when he guides you to lay over his lap tummy down…
KYLE GAZ GARRICK
“princess, come on…”
kyle begins, treading carefully around your huffing form. strong arms loop around you from behind, humming softly when you melt right into him despite your bratty demeanor. you can feel him smile against the side of your warm face, while his scent and warmth invades your senses, calming you down immediately.
“you know that’s the farthest from the truth,” he whispers, kissing your cheek with an obnoxious smooching sound tacked on to each one. it prompts you to giggle and kyle laughs right along with you when he sees how much your nose scrunches up with happiness.
“there’s my sweet girl!”
he squeezes his arms around you, ignoring you when you shamefully apologize for being so ridiculous… because he knows deep down in his heart he’d let you get away with murder. so he shushes you with more kisses and murmurs about just how much he loves you, and plans on doing the same thing between your pretty thighs later on.
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waiting-so-long · 3 months
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Barefoot and…
Okay but hear me out…
141 x reader
You all are just hanging out, having drinks after a successful, but fucking difficult, mission.
Battered and bruised and exhausted, someone jokes about how much easier it’d have been to just have a normal job.
You pipe up that Price would still be a captain but as a firefighter not military.
Gaz claiming he’d probably do something along the same lines, maybe a paramedic? You agreed, nodding, “If I was in an accident and I saw you coming to save me, I’d feel protected. You have a comforting face.” He couldn’t hide the smile on his face, flustered by your words.
With a cheeky grin and a wink in your direction, Soap states he couldn’t let his “figure go to waste, might pick up erotic dancin’, aye?” Before adding on a more serious note, he could be a physical therapist.
Ghost - after he himself decided it was stupid to fantasize about such things - you all agreed he’d probably own a shop of some kind. A tie between staying as a butcher, or becoming a mechanic.
“Well?” Price breaking the silence, eyebrows raised.
All eyes turned to you, waiting on your response. You swallowed realizing you didn’t really have a very good answer. Or, at least, no answer the men wouldn’t be make fun of you endlessly for.
“I’m not sure…” heat creeping into your cheeks.
“Bullshit. What, you wanna dance with Soap, or somethin’?” Gaz laughs, nudging you with his elbow.
“No, no. You know I have no rhythm,” laughing with him, before finishing, “Well… I guess, if I could do anything, I’d do nothing.” You shrug, hoping that would satisfy your team.
The silence stretches for one beat, two, three…
Realizing they aren’t going to drop it, you down the rest of your drink, before filling it again. With the liquid courage still burning, you clear your throat.
“I mean, not like nothing nothing. But I’ve always like the idea of being a stay at home mom. Home making, y’know? Waiting for my man to come home, so I could take his boots off by the door. Cleaning, cooking. ‘Pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen’ type deal,” You end with a laugh, hoping they won’t notice you were only half joking about the last part.
Once again the quiet thickens. You swirl your drink in your hands, avoiding eye contact. You wait for the teasing, the taunts. They don’t come.
While you’re busy feeling embarrassed, the four men are excited, sick bastards. Each one imagining themselves as the one to give you that life - filling you with their babies, making sure you’re cared for, providing for you and their family.
You look up, they’re all staring at you. Soap and Price looking a little red in the face, Gaz has a slightly intimidating gleam in his eyes, Simon breathing just a little heavier than usual. Their reactions confuse you to no end.
Another weak laugh escapes you, “Um… I know that’s dumb. Just a silly dream left over from when I was a little girl. But it won’t ever happen, so I should just forget it…” you set your drink down, wiping the condensation off on your jeans as you stand.
The men watch you leave, still speechless, until Ghost speaks up.
“We need to make that happen.”
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prokopetz · 11 months
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Okay, so: in early drafts of Jules Verne's 1870 novel Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, Captain Nemo is a Polish guy bent on revenge against the Russian Empire for the murder of his family in the January Uprising. Verne's editor objected on the grounds that Russia was a French ally at the time of the book's writing, and in the actual, published version of the story, Nemo's national origin and precisely which empire he's pissed off at are left unspecified.
Later, in the 1875 quasi-sequel The Mysterious Island, Nemo is retconned as an Indian noble out for revenge against the British for the murder of his family in the Indian Rebellion of 1857 – basically the same as the original plan, simply substituting a different uprising and a different empire. Verne's editor raised no objections this time around, because fuck the British, right? Though Twenty Thousand Leagues and The Mysterious Island aren't 100% compatible in their respective timelines, this version of Nemo has customarily been back-ported into adaptations of Twenty Thousand Leagues ever since.
Now here's the funny part: perhaps as a jab at his editor, Verne made a specific plot point in Twenty Thousand Leagues of Professor Aronnax repeatedly trying and failing to figure out where the fuck Nemo is from. At one point his attempt to pin down Nemo's accent is frustrated by Nemo's vast multilingualism. At another point, he tries and fails to trick Nemo by quizzing him about latitude and longitude.
(To contextualise that last bit, at the time the book was written, there was no international agreement on which line of longitude should be zero degrees, and many nations had their own prime meridians; Aronnax hoped to identify Nemo's national origin by calculating which meridian he was giving his longitudes relative to. Nemo, however, immediately spots the ploy, and announces that he'll use the Paris meridian in deference to the fact that Aronnax is a Frenchman.)
The upshot is that at no point in the course of any of this Sherlock Holmes bullshit does Aronnax ever bring up the colour of Nemo's skin as a potential clue. In light of the book's publication history, this is almost certainly simply because Verne hadn't decided that Nemo was Indian yet. However, taking into account The Mysterious Island's retcon, it retroactively makes Aronnax the least racist Frenchman ever.
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honestlyhiswife · 2 months
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nobody talks about how adorable john price is as a lieutenant. he’s got this undeniable determination with him that has only grown stronger since he’s crawled up the ranks.
his voice isn’t gruff yet, not used to shouting orders in a hostile zone. his mutton chops haven’t grown in either, likely experimenting with his signature style. he still covers his head, though this time it’s with a sage coloured beanie and not a boonie.
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sky-is-the-limit · 5 months
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'Neighbourly advice.'
Captain Price x F!Reader
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𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘦𝘹 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦.
𝘊𝘞: 𝘜𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘖𝘳𝘢𝘭 (𝘳), 𝘗𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦/𝘋𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬, 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵.
𝘞𝘊: 5,282 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴.
𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴: 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦.
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𝘈 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘵, 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘣 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘵𝘢𝘱-𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘹.
''𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘤𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 ����𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥. 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦-''
𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬.
𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘤𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳, 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦.
𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘬𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦. 𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘰, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.
𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘺, 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘬.
𝘐𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯. 𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰. 𝘠𝘰𝘶, 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘺𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘵.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘣 𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘪 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵-𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘫𝘰𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳, 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘮 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺.
𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. '𝘈' 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺.
𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
𝘜𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘢 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶?
𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯, 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦, 𝘢 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘶𝘱, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘤𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘮.
𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬, 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯'𝘴 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘦𝘶𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦.
𝘊𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘤𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦.
𝘕𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘤 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯? 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵.
''𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦?'' 𝘊𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘭𝘺𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘤 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘶𝘱𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘈𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴.
''𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘩, 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺. 𝘗𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘵.'' 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 20 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳.
𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴, 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘊𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬��𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘧𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘳.
''𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴?'' 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 '𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥', 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘯.
''𝘌𝘹. 𝘜𝘩, 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘹, 𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰, 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘖𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦, 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵.'' 𝘔𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘴, 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬.
''𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯?'' 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘬𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘦.
''𝘐𝘧 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦.'' 𝘏𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.
''𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘐 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵.'' 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘚𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵.
𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦? 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.
''𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘮?'' 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘣𝘰𝘹 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘣𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴.
''𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸? 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥.'' 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵, 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
''𝘏𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭.'' 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘵. 𝘉𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵.
''𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯?'' 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦.
''𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘱 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.'' 𝘚𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥, 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵, 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘻𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸.
''𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺- 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯?'' 𝘐𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
''𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘸, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘣 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.'' 𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘰𝘭𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦.
''𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵- 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥-'' 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘪��𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 ��𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦.
''𝘎𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦? 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥, 𝘐'𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳.'' 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.
''𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨.'' 𝘈 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘱 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘴𝘭𝘦.
''𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵? 𝘐𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵?'' 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘨𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘵���� 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦.
''𝘚𝘰 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵? 𝘚𝘰 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.'' 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳, 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦.
𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘱𝘦, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘶𝘮.
''𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶?'' 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘣 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯.
𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.
''𝘜𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵.'' 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘦, 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥.
''𝘠𝘦𝘴..'' 𝘈 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵.
''𝘠𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵?'' 𝘏𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘰, 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵.
''𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶- 𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶..'' 𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵, 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
''𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘠/𝘕?'' 𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭, 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘈 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵.
''𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦..'' 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦.
''𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭?'' 𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘣𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘣𝘦, 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩.
''𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.'' 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺.
''𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯.'' 𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸, 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴.
𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘺𝘱𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤, 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯, 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘧𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥.
''𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨.'' 𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘫𝘢𝘸, 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘵.
𝘐𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥. 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺. 𝘕𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥. 𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦.
𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘫𝘢𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬, 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦.
''𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭-'' 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘵, 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴.
𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘴, 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘴.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩, 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳.
''𝘕𝘦𝘦𝘥- 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯-'' 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵-𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥.
𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘵, 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘰𝘦𝘴, 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 ''𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺.''
𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘈 𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘰𝘱.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯, 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘯’𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦.
''𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬-'' 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺.
𝘈 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳-𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘱 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩.
𝘈 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩, 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘥, 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴.
𝘋𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘱, 𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩.
''𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.'' 𝘌𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘺.
''𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯.'' 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴, 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺.
𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺.
𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘻𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦.
''𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦-'' 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳, 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳. 𝘐𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.
𝘙𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘵, 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘰𝘳, 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯.
𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵.
𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘹 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴.
𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴, 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧-𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 ��𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩.
𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘭𝘺, 𝘥𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘤 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘤𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘺, 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺, 𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘭𝘺, 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘶𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨.
𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘸𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦, 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥.
𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮.
𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴, 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴.
𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦’𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥, 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬, 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴, 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵.
𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘵, 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵.
''𝘔𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭.'' 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭, 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳.
𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘶, 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘦𝘥–𝘦𝘶𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬–𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘦𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴�� 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.'' 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.
𝘌𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘵, 𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵.
''𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭?'' 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 ��𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴.
𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬 “𝘝” 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘦, 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘺, 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.
𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘱, 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.
𝘋𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰���𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘵. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺.
''𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦-'' 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘢𝘬 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.
''𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭?'' 𝘏𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘬𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘸𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥.
''𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯.'' 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘰𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 with 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥.
''𝘚𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭.'' 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺, 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.
𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘱𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘥𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦, 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘤𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘺, 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴.
“𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥-” 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯.
𝘏𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵.
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘣 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘔𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘴, 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘩𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘮.
𝘗𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴. ''𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦-''
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱 𝘤𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.
𝘏𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬. 𝘏𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵, 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨. ''𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯.''
𝘛𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘭𝘣𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘤𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘤𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬, 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩, 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
''𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵, 𝘩𝘮?'' 𝘏𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥, 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘣, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
''𝘖𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐'𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦-'' 𝘌𝘯𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
''𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯- 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬- 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦-'' 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯, 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦. 
''𝘖𝘩 𝘮𝘺-'' 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘴. 𝘈𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺.
𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩, 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵, 𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘣 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘣 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺.
𝘞𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘤𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘕𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘩.
𝘈 𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵, 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯, 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭.
𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘬 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵, 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦, 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦.
𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩.
''𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.'' 𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳. ''𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱.''
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bluegiragi · 7 months
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check in.
early access + nsfw on patreon
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loveindefinitely · 4 months
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01 — 𝘎𝘖 𝘈𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘋 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘊𝘙𝘠, 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘎𝘐𝘙𝘓
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༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader
featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price
warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, virgin reader, corruption kink, slight power imbalance, praise, degradation, light dom/sub, slight daddy kink, oral, vaginal sex, your father's a dick, very minor soapghost, aftercare
series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.
// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //
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Stay in your room, your father had said. Don't bother us tonight, your father had said. They are dangerous men that do dangerous things, your father had said.
Yet, here you were, standing at the bottom step of the stairwell, hiding behind the wall adjoined to the living room, listening in to the men on the other side.
You were bored out of your brains. It was a Friday night, and like hell was your over-protective father going to let you go out or party. And the fact that he wouldn't even introduce you to his only friends? Or let you leave your fucking room?
It had left you pissed off to no end, so.
Here you were.
"Bloody close," you hear a voice grunt, deep and gravelly. It sends heat to your stomach immediately, and it's almost embarrassing.
You hear the sound of a hand slapping a shoulder, and the bark of a laugh. "Aye, still got the cash you're gonna owe me?" This voice has a -- Irish? Scottish, maybe? -- lilt to it, humour and kindness embedded into its layers.
"He'll find a way outta paying," a third voice chimes, laughter in its tone.
Someone else clears their throat. "You're all gonna get yourselves indebted to each other at this rate," a fourth voice says, sounding almost resigned.
"You all need to shut the fuck up before she sticks her nose down 'ere."
Your spine straightens, and fury simmers in your blood. Did he have to be such an asshole? Why was your father so... so anti your existence? Why was he so ashamed of you, yet so overbeating?
"She's not a kid anymore, you really oughtta to lay off," the man with the scottish accent says, slightly stern in his delivery.
"If you met her, you'd understand how fuckin' annoying she is. Always wants me to deal with her emotions, as if they're my fuckin' problem," your father replies venomously. Your stomach has dropped to your feet, you're sure of it.
There's a low whistle in response, and a silence settles behind the wall. An unsettling one, full of animosity. The fact that you can tell that from behind the wall says a lot.
"I'm gonna go out and get some drinks. Maybe some dinner. Needa get out of this fuckin' house for a bit," your father says with a grunt, sounding like he's gotten up from the couch. "Call if you lot need anythin' while I'm out."
A few grunts of agreement, and after a few seconds, the front door opens and slams shut.
You let out a small breath of tense relief, eyes fluttering shut as you deeply exhale. The immediate relief of having your father out of the house is immense.
"I feel bad for her," you hear the third man speak, voice quiet and low. "You hear how he speaks about her -- what's he like with her?"
"Gaz, whatever you're thinkin', drop it," the first speaker grits out, impatient and tight.
"He's right," the scottish one says with a huff, "Poor kid. She's legal and he isn't letting her out on a Friday night? 'Nd he fuckin' wonders why she's upset."
"He must have his... reasons," the fatherly voice of the fourth speaker says, although his tone says otherwise.
You swallow, slowly creeping off of the bottom step and onto the wooden floors. Front pressed to the wall, you move just the slightest bit, to allow yourself a small peak into the loungeroom.
There are four men, like you'd expected, and they're...
They're big. There's no other word that comes to mind, except for big. Tall, broad, packed with muscle. Military-grade men.
Your mouth is suddenly parched of any moisture, and your brain turns to putty.
Selfishly, stupidly, you spend another dangerous moment to admire the four. The couch curves, the four of them seated on it, facing the TV hung on the wall. They're backs are to you.
Or.
One second, they're all blissfully turned the other way, and in the next, one's head turns, and deep brown eyes meet yours.
Your eyes go wide, and you immediately dart for the stairs, heart in your throat.
Rushing up, trying to stay quiet but still hurrying, you make it to your room in record time. You shut the door behind you, chest tight and breaths harried as your back presses to the wood.
Stupid, stupid girl, you think.
They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.
That's what your father had said, wasn't it? So what were you thinking, risking a look? For what purpose?
Then, there's a knock on your door.
Your eyes go impossibly wide, and your lips purse together as you slowly move away from the door. With one breath, you train your face into a pleasant, kind smile as you slowly open the door, only allowing a bit of your room to be shown.
"You're his daughter, ain't ya?"
You have to crane your neck, eyes going up, and up, and up, until you meet the man's eyes.
The skull balaclava shouldn't cause your face to heat, or your breaths to quicken, but they do.
"I -- um, yes, I'm really sorry for eavesdropping," you mumble, eyes flitting to the floor and hand squeezing the door in an anxious gesture.
A hand grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to meet the man's chocolate eyes once more. They're imploring, impossibly so, and your thighs squeeze together against your better judgement.
"Come watch the game with us," he says, and although the sentence isn't a demand, it feels like one.
So, like the good girl you are, you nod, his grip loosening as you do.
You forget that you're in your tiniest sleep shorts and your thinnest tank top as you follow him down the stairs, his large hand resting on your lower back.
This was the most touch you'd ever felt from a man that wasn't in a familial way, and your nerve-endings feel like they've been electrocuted.
Whatever conversation that was happening silences as soon as the two of you walk into the lounge room, your hands squeezing each other painfully tight.
Your anxiety was warranted in this situation, wasn't it? Surely, it was okay to be scared of four men whom you'd never met.
Four sets of eyes are trained to your body, and there's a slight tremble in your hands as you sit in the spot balaclava had gestured towards.
It seats you in the middle of the four of them, and your heart beats impossibly faster as you settle into the leather, feeling so small in comparison to the men surrounding you.
It's a new, albeit not entirely terrible, feeling.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" The man furthest to your left asks, and when you meet his eyes, they're warm and kind. His lower face is mostly covered in a beard, and he's wearing a light brown hat.
You bite at your inner cheek, gaze flicking back to your thighs as you weakly say your name.
Their gazes burn your skin, like a living force, and your hands form nervous fists in your lap. The warm yellow light of the living room lamp creates a warm, safe ambience that doesn't exactly fit the emotions swirling inside of you.
You flinch only slightly when a warm hand moves to rest on your knee, the thumb rubbing comforting circles on it that ease your tight muscles slightly.
When you look to the owner of the hand, it's to see a warm grin and a faux mohawk.
"You're so tense, lass," he says, his mouth quirking into a knowing smirk. "We don't bite."
"Don't speak for all of us, Soap," the man sitting on your close left says with a charming grin, his eyes meeting yours when you turn to him. "I'll ask nicely, love, don't worry."
You nod, slowly, in some sort of trance. This entire situation doesn't feel entirely real, more like a figment of your deepest desires.
Ones you've never let yourself think about, except for the darkest of nights and the dirtiest of feelings.
"Don't scare the girl," the man with the balaclava says, eyes narrowing on the two men beside you.
"Says the one with the fuckin' mask, ya weirdo," the scottish one says with a scoff of a chuckle. Your mouth pulls into a soft grin without you realising, and the hand on your knee tightens ever so slightly.
"I'm Price," the man who you've deemed the most sensible of the group says with a warm smile. His head gestures to each of the other three men respectively. "That's Gaz, Soap, and Ghost."
You can't say that you're all too familiar with the names, nor how...different they are, but you nod nonetheless, reserving the names in your memory.
"Father dearest never talked about us?" Gaz asks, eyebrows softly furrowing in question.
You shake your head, almost apologetic in the movement. "He doesn't like to tell me much, he's, ah... private."
There's a few returning grunts of understanding, and they settle your nerves just a little bit more. For men of their size, they were surprisingly good at keeping you feeling safe and comfortable.
"What're you doin' all alone on a Friday night? Pretty young thing like you, 'nd you're not at a club? A date?" Soap asks, and if you notice that he's moved just the slightest bit closer to you, you don't say a word.
You feel your face heat, and you murmur out your reply. "Never been to either," you admit, pulling at a thread in your sleep shorts with nervous jerks.
Ghost settles further into his chair, legs spread in an almost dominant way. "Surely you've at least had your first kiss?"
If you could get anymore embarrassed, you're sure you'll combust on the spot.
You softly shake your head.
"Aw, love, you're adorable," Gaz says, a hint of a smirk on his features. His dark eyes glimmer in the light, and you lick your bottom lip to wet it.
Price's arms rest on his knees, and his eyes seem trained on you, debating some sort of inner conflict, before they firm with some kind of resolution. "Y'know, we've been training rookies lately," he states, but with a knowing undertone that everyone in the room seems to pick up on except for you.
"That we have," Ghost says, his voice sending shivers down your spine as he nods in agreement with Price.
"How about we train you, bonnie?" Soap asks, his hand moving just the slightest bit higher on your thigh.
You swallow, mouth dry.
"Um. Like, train me... how?" You ask, although there's some part of your brain that knows all too well what area they're thinking of.
Gaz's hand moves to sit at the nape of your neck, stroking in soothing movements that leave your eyes half-closed and glassy. "How about I show you how to kiss, love?"
Your stomach hollows, and your chest rises and falls in heavy beats. Nervously looking around the room, you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod shortly.
Soap's hand tightens around your thigh, a barely hidden warning. "Words, baby, or you're goin' back to your room."
The threat instantly has words flying out of your mouth. "Yes. Please. Just... be gentle?"
All four men seem to huff a laugh at that, but Gaz nods, dimples showing as his smirk deepens. "I can do that."
He pulls you in, and your eyes flutter shut as his lips meet yours.
The feeling leaves you entirely dazed, your nervous system alighting with signals as your thoughts seem to pause, if only for a second. It's nothing like you'd expected, and butterflies erupt in your lower stomach.
He pulls away, not having breached your mouth, and you must look as out of it as you feel because he laughs.
"That good, love?" He asks, teasing and entirely prideful.
You nod, a bit too fast and enthusiastic, before his hand pulls away from your nape. The loss is mourned, briefly, before your attention pulls away from Gaz and instead to Soap.
"Gotta learn from all of us," is all he says, before his lips crush against your own. Where Gaz was tentative and soft, Soap is all energy and desperation.
His hand squeezes your thigh, and when it had moved from your knee to pushing against your tiny shorts, you haven't an idea.
You can't find it in yourself to care, with his relentless attack on your mouth, your lips, your mind.
When he pulls away, you realise it's because Ghost's moved to stand, and his hand is in a tight fist in Soap's hair, pulling his face away from yours.
"Actin' like a fuckin' mutt," Ghost mutters, tone laced with vitriol. It's degrading, and yet Soap doesn't seem phased in the slightest.
You're about to inquire about that when your attention's caught by Price, his knees spread and patting his thigh. "C'mere, sweetheart," he says, and like a dog on a leash, you do.
His unbelievably large hands grab your hips as he seats you in his lap, and with how he's got his legs spread, it forces you to sit over his groin.
It's a compromising position, and the heat that rushes to your core is an entirely unknown feeling.
He doesn't move his hands from your body as his eyes devour it, before they meet your gaze with a warmth to them that has you shivering.
"Show me what the boys have taught you, hm?" He says, and with shut eyes and a stiff movement, you press your lips to his.
He groans, pleased, his thumbs rubbing circles where your skin's been revealed by your tank top. No one's ever touched you there, not in this way, and it has your pussy wet.
When he pulls away, he licks at his lips, as if he's devouring your taste.
"You're so pretty, sweetheart, mm? No wonder your father's got you all locked up," he says, and the reminder of the source of your anger has you wanting to do entirely too reckless things.
Like kissing the four men he warned you about.
Like doing more, maybe.
...Maybe.
His hands force your hips down, and you let out a small whimper when your clit presses against his belt buckle, the action sending pleasure shooting up your spine.
He raises a brow, catching the change in expression and your small sound. "What's wrong, pretty?"
And then, he pulls you down again, deeper this time, and the movement has your breath hitching, core burning with need.
"Oh, you naughty little girl," he says, and the words have your mind turning into some sort of mouldable clay, entirely able to be controlled by whatever these men wanted to make of it. "So needy, ain't ya?"
Someone presses against you from behind, and a belt buckle presses against your lower back.
"My turn to feel those lips, innit?" Ghost says from behind, leaning down to whisper his next words next to your ear. "See what all the fuss 's about."
The idea that you're being passed around, like you're some kind of... of whore has you entirely speechless in the most positive of ways.
You feel filthy, and you love it.
Leaning your head back, you manage to make eye contact with the large man, before his lips press to yours, upside down.
He devours, all encompassing, his tongue slipping into yours without any hesitance. You're clumsy, unsure, but he makes up for it with experience and dominance. The entire act has you woozy, needy for more of them, more of their touch.
You don't expect for Price to start forcibly rotating your hips, forcing you to grind against his lap, but it forces a moan from your mouth, the sound getting devoured by Ghost's overpowering tongue.
"Who knew she'd be such a desperate slut?" Gaz asks, as if you're not there, as if you're just something to be observed. It causes another moan to leave your mouth, and Ghost detaches himself from you with a grunt of his own.
"Think she liked that," Soap says, amused and proud, in a strange sort of way. "Wanna be used, baby? Taken by men nearly twice your age?"
"Yes," you say, on a groan as Price's motions speed up, the pleasure so new and different and good.
Then, he stops, and a whine comes out of you before you can stop it.
Price makes a condescending noise in response. "Poor babygirl needs all the attention, hey? Needs her little pussy played with?"
"She looks like a goddamn mess, cap," Gaz says, his hand coming up to rest on your head. He gives comforting pats, not unlike one would with an obedient puppy.
Ghost's hands come around your waist, and before you even process what he's doing, he rips your sleep shorts in half, leaving you completely bare.
"Didn't think to wear panties, dumb girl?" Ghost asks with an appreciative groan, his large hand cupping your now exposed pussy.
With a whimper, you shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut at the embarrassment and nudity. No one had ever seen it before, and now, four of your father's friends were getting an eyeful.
"Lemme see if she's nice 'n wet for us," Soap murmurs, picking you up from Price's lap in a princess carry.
It doesn't even last two seconds before he's splaying you over the now empty couch, your hands pathetically covering your most private of areas.
"None of that, sweetheart," Price says with a 'tsk', grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to the couch above your head, leaving you effectively defenceless to the men.
Soap's hand moves down your stomach, before he pauses for just a moment. "This okay, baby?"
You nod, because yes, this is most definitely okay.
Gaz gives you a stern look, so you quickly fix your mistake. "I -- yes, sir, it's okay."
There's a surrounding sound of approval, and Soap smirks from where he stands beside your hips. "Sir, aye? Like the sound of that."
With that, his finger slides down your pussy, and your eyes shut with a soft moan. His hands are rough, scarred, calloused from years of work on the field, and they're so much larger than your own.
"Think she likes it, sir," Ghost says, taunting Soap, whose eyes are completely transfixed on your glistening pussy.
"Not the only one," Price says with an approving murmur, his hand tightening around your wrists. The sense of powerlessness has you aching with desire.
Soap's finger continues to rub against your slit, not breaching your entrance, instead continuing to tease and amplify his touch. Your eyes are shut, too embarrassed to look at the mess you're likely causing on the fabric, and too nervous to see the expression on the men's faces.
"Do you play with your lil cunt often, princess?" Ghost says, voice darkened with lust.
Your face feels like it's burning, but you nod. "Sometimes. I -- ah," you break off with a moan as Soap's thumb presses against your swollen clit.
"Be a good girl and answer when spoken to, love," Gaz says with a sound of disappointment that has you aching to amend your mistake.
"I'm sorry, sir, I, yes. Sometimes 'm just needing to, um, y'know..." You trail off, trying to preserve any amounts of dignity you had left. You were aware that masturbation was normal, but you'd never discussed it with a single soul, and talking about it felt like laying your soul bare.
Price's other hand moves to gently brush your hair from your face, the gesture so at odds with Soap's sensual movements.
You're about to say something, what, you aren't exactly sure, when Soap's finger roughly enters your soaked pussy. A loud whimper escapes your lips at the sudden intrusion, and the sheer size difference of his finger compared to your own.
"Aww, baby, it's alright," Soap coos, and it's so fucking condescending. It's cruel, almost, as if you're so dumb that you can't even form your own thoughts.
Which is, honestly, more true than you're willing to admit.
"'Atta girl," Ghost groans when your whimpers only increase with every thrust of Soap's finger.
Gaz's hand moves down to replace Soap's thumb on your clit, using the pads of his fingers to roughly circle around it. That sensation, mixed with Soap's intrusion, has your back arching slightly from the couch.
"Think she's close, Cap," Gaz says, conversationally, again treating you like you're not entirely capable of voicing your own feelings or thoughts.
"Mm, that right, sweetheart? Close already?" Price echoes, the hand not around your wrists going to squish your cheeks together, causing your lips to pucker. "What a pathetic girl, hm?"
Those words, those demeaning, humiliating words, only stoke the fire in your stomach, and your eyes burn with unshed tears as you shakily nod.
As soon as you do, however, Gaz pulls away, and Soap's finger leaves your pussy entirely. You groan, eyes opening slightly to see what could've possibly caused them to stop.
"You look so upset, baby," Soap laughs, and his smile is no longer the jovial one it had been mere minutes before -- no, it's been replaced with something much more predatory, something much more dangerous.
Dangerous men.
Ghost moves, then, moving your legs with much more care than you'd expected from the large man, before moving to kneel at the end of the couch where your legs had been. Hooking your knees over his shoulder, he effectively folds you in half.
"W-what are you doing?" You ask, almost frantic, utterly confused at your current state.
He leans down, hooking his balaclava over the tip of his nose, before there's searing wet heat at your core, causing you to throw your head back with a loud moan.
Gaz chuckles, "So dirty, love. Like having the big bad Ghost with his head between your legs, huh? Like having the attention of men with blood on their hands?"
Oh, and the confirmation -- the proper, hard proof, that they killed, that they truly were as dangerous as your father had said --
"Yes, fuck, please, oh my god," you ramble, almost incoherent with your words as you body trembles with the feeling of a mouth at your pussy. "Jesus, don't stop."
You can hear laughter around you, some words being passed between the men, but your focus is entirely on the tongue dipping into your folds, licking at your essence like a man starved. Like you're his only salvation.
Soap's hand is in Ghost's hair, a complete parallel to the kiss the two of you had shared, and he's pushing Ghost further against you, manhandling him like a toy for you to grind against, for you to take advantage of.
"I'm gonna, oh, please, I'm close," you cry out, eyes squeezed shut yet again as Ghost's ministrations only double in enthusiasm.
"Yeah, sweetheart? Gonna cum all over his face? Go on, ride it, there we go," Price eggs you on, his hand patting down your hair, massaging at your scalp as you lose yourself to the pleasure of it all.
You cum with a desperate keen, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you ride out the high, embracing this moment for the beauty it is.
It doesn't hit you, not at first, the full extent of your actions.
Ghost pulls away after your whimpers turn into ones of overstimulation, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, your twitching pussy, and then your inner knee as he carefully sets your legs back down on the couch.
"Such a good girl, aye?" Soap asks, rubbing at your tense calves with expert strokes and pressure. "Did so well for us, darlin'."
Your head feels like it's been filled with cotton, and your mouth is in a similar state as you nod dazedly.
You're not sure when, but at some point, Price gently moves you to lay your back against the cushion of the couch. "Need you to drink something for us, sweetheart, okay?"
Gods, this part? Them treating you like a princess, like you're something worthy of taking care of, it's almost as good as the orgasm they'd given you.
Gaz comes into view with a glass of water, and when he gently moves your chin to open your mouth, you let him pour it down your throat.
It feels almost like you're entirely too weak to do anything by yourself, like your ability to function has been completely removed by these men. It's intoxicating, the kind of feeling that could be as addictive as the most threatening of drugs.
The water slides down your throat, and it's as if it cools you from the inside out, your heartbeat slowly coming down from the quickened pace it was previously at.
Price picks you up, cradling your head to his chest as he sits down, the other three settling down on the couch as well. Gaz, sitting beside Price, moves your legs to sit over his lap, your feet in Soap's. Ghost sits to Soap's left, his eyes focused on you as you get comfortable, burrowing your head closer to Price.
If you could stay in this moment forever, you think that you'll be a very happy woman.
Closing your eyes, you drift into a space between sleep and awareness, and when they flutter open again, you realise that your previously exposed pussy and legs are now hidden by your sweatpants that had been laid on your bed, ready to be put away.
Price's hand is in your hair, softly playing with the strands. His hand encompasses your entire scalp, almost, and if you weren't completely exhausted, that fact alone would have you ready to get on your knees.
"What're we gonna do?" Gaz whispers, and you realise with a start that they must all think you're still dozing. "I mean, we seriously fucked this up."
"Not yet we haven't," Ghost interrupts, voice still gravelly and low, but with a hint of warmth. "This doesn't change anything."
"This changes everything!" Soap hisses back, incredulous, his hands stilling from where they were rubbing into your feet with practiced movements. Were they all trained masseuses, or something?
No. Trained killers, your mind unhelpfully supplies, and a chill runs down your spine.
Oh god. Oh god. What had you done? Seriously, what the actual fuck had you done? You just.
You just lost your virginity to four of your father's very lethal, very dangerous friends. Friends who are nearly twice your age, at that.
Oh. God.
"Laswell will be expecting correspondence by three," Price mutters in a voice akin to a whisper. "You boys know what we have to do."
What? What were they talking about? Who was Laswell? What did they have to do by three?
Your mind whirrs, like a hamster in a wheel, before the sound of keys jingling on the other side of your front door has your entire body freezing.
Oh god.
Oh. God.
"Shit," Gaz grumbles, and between one thought and the next, you've been bundled up into a warm chest, the movement fluid and shockingly quick. A hand at the base of skull softly pushes your head against a warm neck, and your legs hang over a muscled arm. "I'll take her upstairs. Be quiet and quick."
There's murmurs too quiet between the other three as you're taken up the stairs, two steps at a time, by the man whose fingers had been on your pussy, at most, only an hour ago.
You're aware that you've been taken to your room when the door clicks behind you, the familiar path to it engrained in your memory, even with your eyes closed and in someone else's arms.
The smell of vanilla and caramel is a comforting and familiar one, and you realise that you'd left your candle burning all night.
It's really the least of your worries, but that thought manages to snag at your conscious like an annoying fly.
"I'm so sorry, kid," Gaz whispers, gently laying you down underneath your bedsheets, before pulling them up and over your lazed form. "I'll try my best to talk some sense into 'em."
You're not sure what he could possible mean -- what the fuck was even happening, what your life was even becoming, but his words are nothing if not sincere.
His tone is almost... apologetic, in a way, and you reserve that thought for later. When you're not pretending to be awake, when you're still not slightly out of it from your first orgasm caused by someone else, when you're not in the middle of the worst moral conflict of your life.
Your window's slightly open, allowing a soft breeze to brush over your still slightly heated skin as Gaz presses a soft kiss to your forehead, brushing your hair back.
"Get off me!"
Your father. That's your father's voice, and it sounds panicked, angry -- not unusual, but still, the cause of it was nearly always you.
And those specific words, what --
"Y'know, Laswell found out somethin' pretty interestin' the other day," a voice that you recognise as Ghost's says, tone mocking interest.
Gaz moves away from you, before going to the window and looking out at whatever scene is happening down there. Somehow, he hasn't realised you're not asleep -- you'd kept your breathing pattern the same as it usually was when you're asleep, some youtube video you'd watched months ago finally coming in handy.
You can hear them all clear as day through the small opening of the window, and Gaz can too.
"Aye. Somethin' 'bout some info bein' leaked," Soap continues Ghost's train of thought, and you're so lost it's almost pathetic.
But, you continue to listen, desperate for any source of understanding for whatever the fuck was happening down there.
"You can't possibly think it was me!" Your father yells, his voice full of venom and rage. To have it not be directed at you is a rare moment, and you allow yourself a small breath of reprieve.
"We know it was you," Price says, before sighing loud enough for it to be heard from your room. "The way you spoke about that kid of yours was enough to cement the idea."
"She's a fuckin' waste of space, and where do you get off on caring how I treat my kid? Has nothin' to do with the job!"
Those words hurt. Like an actual, physical wound, almost.
Gaz swears under his breath, and you can feel the tension ooze out of him like a wave. It's... oddly comforting.
There's the sound of a fist hitting a jaw, and it takes everything in you not to race to the window and look at what's going on yourself.
"Jesus fucking christ!" Your father hisses, and you put two and two together. One of the three men down there had punched him -- if you had to take a guess, it was Ghost.
"You've never been one of us, and you'll never be one of us. You sellin' us out was the last straw, mate," Soap snarls. You can hear him spit on the ground, before another sound of fists flying makes your heart race.
There's a moment of silence, until two things happen in the span of five seconds.
First, your father screams, "Please! Don't --"
And then...
A bullet.
The sound of a trigger being pulled.
The sound of a bullet ringing through the air.
The sound of a final breath.
Your eyes fly wide, and you immediately stumble out of bed.
Gaz's gaze meets yours, and there's nothing but apology in them. No guilt, just apology.
He doesn't stop you from looking out the window, where your father's body lays in the grass, blood leaking from the wound now sitting between his eyes.
And when you turn to him, he doesn't stop you as you land a punch to his jaw.
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a/n. CROSS-POSTED TO AO3 ummm so did i PLAN for this to become an actual fic? no. not in the slightest. but i was writing the fingering bit and was like. what if her dad died? and there's an actual plot? so uhhh here we are! anyways hope yall enjoyedddd if u guys know me u know polyamory is my SHIT so there will very likely be more poly!tf141 x reader to come. ty for reading mwah mwah mwah
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luvit · 4 months
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Price with a big ol’ breeding kink. Just this man desperately fucking and trying to knock up his younger girlfriend/wife because he wants to see her happy because she wants to have a baby with him. Who knows, he’s probably addicted to rawdawging her pussy in the end.
(fem!reader, mdni 18+)
*correct ding sound* this is like the only price i'll take. why is it always the leaders of groups in a fandom who have a breeding/daddy kink lmfao? i want to study why that is. but they're the experts here. firm believer that price has his degree in pussy
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i think that price doesn't really know he has a breeding kink until the moment of. always too busy to properly think and plan for a family. he's always wanted one, don't get me wrong. but he's just so unaware of how it affects him right until he has you sprawled out for him and he's balls deep in your pussy.
been telling him about how you saw a cute baby the other day, showed him pictures of you holding it. and when he asked you if you wanted kids, you said yes. and when he looks at your eyes he knows it's over for him. because you wanted one so bad, and he promised his girl he'll give her anything no matter what he wants. you want a baby? you're getting one.
so he's got you all sprawled out beneath him and pounding so deep into your pussy. he's grunting with effort as he makes sure to go as far as he can, hips slamming against yours and basically pushing you higher on the bed. it's brutal. the way he just fucks into you as he can feel you squirming underneath him and crying out from the way his cock messily grinds into you? he's so obsessed with the sight. loves the way you try to grab onto anything as he fucks you raw.
whispers things into you like "oh my girl, you want my babies that badly, hm? how many y'gonna give me? two? three? a whole squad, eh?" doesn't even realize stuff like that's slipping out of his mouth. all he can think about is knocking you up. so that way the world can see that he's fully claimed you. that it's him who gets to fuck you so nicely.
and when he finally cums inside? that's it, game over for him. because once he feels the way his own cum drools into your pussy and around his thick cock, he knows he can't get enough of that feeling. when he draws back and sees the creamy essence around his shaft since he came so much, and the way his cum dribbles out from your thighs? he just has to push it back in. collects the cum onto his tip and mixes it around your pussy. loves the way you shiver from the sensitivity when he drags it over your clit.
whispers things like "my sweet wife. mm, gonna turn you into the mother of my kids. gonna take it, gonna take it all." before he slowly inserts his cock back into you. makes sure to try to push his seed even further into you. it's slow, like he doesn't mean to start fucking you again. just needs to make sure it all stays inside. but he can't get enough of the feeling and starts moving his hips faster, gripping onto you tighter and groaning out.
and it's not that long before he starts going at it again.
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It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader
[Chapter 19] || [Chapter 21]
Rating: E Pairing: Gaz x Reader x Ghost x Soap || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 2.1K~ cw: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, protected sex, ejaculation, voyeurism (in person and digital). Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: he's their (under)boss for a reason.
My dumbass was in such a hurry I forgot to tag my lovely @mothymunson who encouraged me to write this when I was lost where to fit it + gave me extra ideas for the dynamic! 🫶
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Chapter 20: Control
It’s been two weeks since that lazy Sunday you spent with Johnny. He had to leave in a hurry, departing on a mission, unable to tell you where he’d be going or when he’d be back…
Simon and Kyle were already on a mission of their own by Sunday so… You’ve spent these last two weeks alone.
It’s been quiet without them… And frankly… a bit lonely.
You used to like having time to yourself after the break-up… But now?
You’ve been with Leah and Mia for dinner a couple times… And although you love your girlfriends, and enjoyed yourself greatly while gossiping with them (and my, my, did you gossip) you find yourself missing Simon, Kyle and Johnny.
It’s 5:30 P.M. on Wednesday and you’re in your kitchen, making something quick for dinner, when there’s a knock on your door.
Eyes squinting in surprise at the lack of expected guests, you immediately think the worst. It’s Ethan. It’s Ethan and he’s pissed that Johnny and Simon fucked him up and he’s here for revenge and you’re alone and-
“Sweetheart, it’s me.” Simon’s voice from the other side of the door relaxes you and you rush across the sitting room and pull open the door.
“Bloody hell, you spooked me!” You say softly as you look up at him. He’s still in full gear and slightly out of breath, as if he ran over to your house the moment he landed on base.
“Hi!” You greet as he pulls off his mask and wraps his arms around you. He steps inside, making you step back with him as he spins you and kisses you, closing the door behind him.
You feel him guide you over to the living room couch and lower you onto it, making you squeal and giggle in surprise. “Simon!” You’re able to murmur as he lowers himself atop of you.
“Missed you… missed you…” He grumbles as he kisses you again, one of his hands on your hip, the other supporting his weight on the throw pillows by your head.
“Missed you too…” You admit, causing him to groan under his breath. His fingers find the straps that hold his vest in place and he quickly undoes them and takes it off, dropping it haphazardly on the floor next to you.
“Simon…” You whisper before he captures your mouth with his again, his tongue finding yours and making you moan. Oh, how you’ve missed him… Your hands trail down his chest and arms, unzipping his fleece jacket and he allows you to take it off him, leaving him in a black t-shirt underneath.
Your hands trail down lower, finding the utility belt at his waist. Your fingers just barely graze the thick, hard bulge in his cargo pants as you try to undo his belt, but one of his hand sharply stops you by gripping your wrist with three fingers.
You pull back from the kiss, the two of you out of breath. Your eyebrows are lowered in concern and your eyes softened. “What?” You asked him softly.
“I’m not-” He trailed off for a moment and huffed before burying his face in your neck. “Not ready for that.” He told you softly. “My body isn’t… I don’t want you to…”
“Oh…” You said, a bit surprised. You had noticed his reaction had been the same he used to have whenever you touched his mask in the past… And if back then you didn’t probe, you certainly wouldn’t now. “Okay.” You told him.
“Can we just…” He trailed off and slowly grabbed your waist with his hand, grinding his crotch lightly against yours. It jostled you a bit and you bit your lip. 
“Yeah… we can dry-hump, Simon…” You told him in a reassuring tone, which only made him groan again and hump against you once more. 
You wrapped your arms around his shoulder and neck as he fixed his grip on you and rubbed his bulge against your body in the thin lounge pants you had changed into after work.
Just as you’re just starting to kiss again, with Simon murmuring more sweet nothings of how much he missed you, there’s a new knocking on the door. Simon groaned in complaint and buried his face in your neck again.
“Bloody fuckin’ hell… He’s fast.” Simon grumbled and pushed up to his feet, sliding off you and helping you sit up.
“Who…?” You asked, a bit light-headed from the intense make-out session.
“Kyle.” He complained as he fixed his bulge in his pants with his hand, while waddling his way over to the door and throwing it open.
“You sneaky bastard.” Kyle said to Simon and pointed a finger at him while coming into the flat.
“Hi, Kyle…” You said softly, receiving a ‘Hi, lovie’ in response as he took off his shoes.
Kyle’s also out of breath but, unlike Simon, he’s changed clothes. “Guess what, Simon here waited until I got in the shower before he ran off to come see you. Left me stranded back at base!”
You can’t help but giggle as Simon’s scarred mouth morphs into a smug, proud-of-himself smirk. “Oops.” He said.
Kyle gave the two of a you a once over. “Ah… I see. Someone was… eager, huh?” He teases and uses his chin to point at the obvious bulge in Simon’s pants.
The younger man moves over to the couch and stands behind it before kissing you on the lips just as hard as Simon did, taking your breath away and making your shoulders sag as you sigh in delight at the feeling of his warm mouth on yours.
Pulling back, Kyle licks his lips and winks at you. “Good thing I got here when I did, hm?” He teases and looks at Simon before returning his gaze to you. “Now we can really get the party started…” He adds.
-
“Oh… Oh, fuck…” You whine at the top of your lungs, your eyes rolling back with each thrust inside of you.
Kyle’s lying on the bed under you, his thighs spread as he has you in a full nelson. His hands hold you behind your neck, fingers intertwined, your knees hooked up on his forearms to keep you spread open.
Kyle’s big. Really big. More than you expected. Considering the only points of comparison you’ve got are John and Ethan… It’s not like either of them was exactly small, but Kyle’s constantly bottoming out inside you without having to throw his whole weight into it. He’s also perfect shaved, not an inch of hair on him… anywhere. Other than his face, of course.
Your bodies are slick with sweat and your moans and his grunts and groans echo in the bedroom. You can barely keep your eyes open and if it weren’t the fact Simon in your field of view, you’d have given up altogether.
Simon’s sitting across from you and Kyle, having cleared your clothes’ chair and taken a seat in it, watching you and Kyle with keen eyes… His large, rough hand is wrapped around his own cock, a long one, the tip red and angry. He strokes it slowly, almost lazily, as he watches you get properly fucked by Kyle.
Unlike John (and Johnny, as you found out during your bath), Simon and Kyle are both cut… And Simon has something that you didn’t expect. Piercings. A Jacob’s ladder, you’re pretty sure it’s called. Four barbells stacked on the underside of his shaft, which he only leaves visible for a few seconds every time his fingers uncover it.
Considering Kyle’s stayed quiet about it, you’re pretty sure he hasn’t spotted them, either from having his own eyes closed, or because you’re in the way. Either way, you don’t mind it, at all, that you get the view all to yourself, even for just a second.
The sight of Simon sat there, legs spread, his cock on display, his big hands and strong arms moving slowly as he watches you and Kyle is an amazing one… And hearing Kyle losing his mind behind you, too into the moment to succeed at any amount of dirty talk or at saying anything coherent just makes it better.
“Fuck… Yeah… Fuck… You feel… Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell…” Kyle grunts behind you as he keeps rocking his hips against your ass, making sure to plunge hard and deep inside you, not giving you time to breath before he’s bottoming out again, the pace unforgivingly fast.
You watch closely as Simon stops for a moment and shifts around on the chair he’s sitting on before pulling out his phone. He lets out a chuckle as he looks at the screen, then, he fidgets around with it for a moment, texting someone.
It’s barely a minute later when you hear the signature sound of a FaceTime call blasting from the phone’s speakers. Simon accepts it and aims the back camera at you and Kyle.
“Say hi to Johnny, sweetheart.” Simon demands, his tone surprisingly bossy, as he goes back to stroking his large cock.
“H-Hi, Johnny…!” You whine aloud, just barely able to speak without melting, your mind slowly emptying of all thoughts beside the feeling of Kyle inside you and Simon masturbating across from you.
Your breath is ragged as Kyle speeds up his thrusts even more, his grip on the back of your neck tightening and tensing up, his hips moving so erratically that it makes you squeal louder. “Kyle! OH FUCK!” You whine, eyes rolling back and your face wincing lightly from desperation.
“Slow down, Kyle.” Simon demands. “Slow and deep.” He adds. You hear Kyle grunt and he murmurs something incomprehensible in response as he does what he’s told. His motions slow and become more paced and calm as Kyle himself tenses up underneath you.
You notice how Kyle’s thighs tense up, his veins bulging and throbbing as he controls himself not to squirm, clearly trying his best not to lose it and to obey what Simon says.
“Mmm… that’s it… That’s it…” Simon praises, his eyes going back and forth between the sight of you and Kyle, and Johnny on his phone. “Nice and slow, Kyle…” He continues saying.
Kyle quakes underneath you, his breath getting a bit more ragged and you swear you hear him gulp down as he tries to be good for Simon and for you.
“Johnny’s enjoying it, aren’t you, Johnny?” He speaks to the phone. You can’t hear the reply from the Scot, but considering how Simon’s chuckling, the answer seems to be a yes.
“Simon… Fuck…” Kyle grunts. “This is… t-torture!” He’s able to get out, his thighs twitching and his arms tightening their hold on the back of your legs. “I’m going to- Fuck!” He grunts.
“Go on, pretty boy.” Simon teases. Something about the look in his eye, the little mischievous smirk on his lips… God, for someone who’s afraid of being touched, he sure knows what the fuck he’s doing… It’s almost intoxicating, the way he’s exerting control on everyone in the room and even Johnny over the phone.
You can feel the knot in your stomach tightening more and more as you experience all these feelings at once, your mind steadily clearing of any thoughts other than the prickling of stars in the corner of your eyes and the heat increasing more and more.
“Aaah-” Kyle hisses as he keeps moving slowly and deeply, gritting his teeth behind your back and huffing through his nose with barely restricted euphoria. “Fuck… Fuck…” He grunts. 
“F-FUCK!”  His voice shouting as he loses his composure and buries himself to the hilt inside you with a sharp motion of his hips… and another… and another… Completely disregarding Simon’s commands to go slow… And it makes your eyes roll as your orgasm hits, causing you to shudder and twitch… 
But, instead of moaning his name, you find yourself moaning Simon’s, your head unable to dip back due to Kyle’s grip on it, and forcing you to stare right at Simon as you fall over the edge of your climax.
Behind you, Kyle is losing his own mind, spilling his come in the confines of the condom… And you watch through a lidded, barely-aware gaze, as after a few more strokes, Simon’s cock throbs and twitches… before a few ropes of cum shoot in quick succession all over his lower stomach, which he had the presence of mind to lift his t-shirt out of.
The bedroom falls into complete silence as Kyle pulls out and slowly lets go of you, carefully helping get you out of the strained position that’ll likely leave your legs and joints sore the next few days.
“Good job...” Simon breaks the silence as he tries to catch his breath, his head dipped back against the wall behind him, his eyes lazily trailing the sight of you and Kyle on the bed, and then back to Johnny on the phone.
“Bloody fuckin’ hell…” You can finally hear Johnny speak through the speakers now that the room is silent. “You lot better repeat that when I’m not overseas and can join in…!” He quips, drawing laughter out of all of you.
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