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delightfully-daisy · 7 years

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What Lilian Canard Will Tell You

AN: I don’t think there’s any trigger warnings with this, but if someone spots something, please let me know. I had a lot more fun with this than I thought I would--I wanted to do Jane’s dad or Roger’s mum, who are both more likeable to me, but this needed to be done for ~plot~ reasons and Daisy’s mom just vividly came to life to me. I hope you enjoy~

Also, just pretend all the dialogue is in French I’m too lazy.

Lillian Dominique Harcourt Canard started her Sunday mornings the same way each week. The work week was always rough on Lillian, what with being one of the head lawyers at a high profile corporate law firm. Saturdays were for lingering remnants of the work week, for socializing, for society events. But Sundays—Sundays were a day just for herself.

She woke up early and she went for a jog around the city, came back into the house at approximately 8:00 each Sunday morning, made a protein shake, and then showered. She read for an hour—sometimes literature, most often self-help books (ironically, of course, as Lilian needed no help). She took no calls on Sunday mornings—nothing till noon. Those mornings were for herself.

She walked Fifi and Gigi. She ordered a new pair of shoes every Sunday, two if the week had been good.

The housestaff knew not to bother Lilian on Sunday mornings, lest the unleash the wrath of their boss. They knew her patterns and crossed the townhouse where she did not, not till noon at least, when she came downstairs dressed up smartly, and greeted Cece, the housekeeper at the foot of the stairs, and made her way to her office on the ground floor.

Lilian will tell you that her proudest accomplishment was becoming French. You see, her father iss English and she is born in a little town in sleepy England called Swynlake. It is a charming town, yes, and she spent the first five years of her life not knowing anything else. She will tell you that the first time she was aware of the acute difference between her French background and her English one was when she traveled to Paris at the age of five with her mother and as she stepped out onto the streets, she realized that there was glamour and poise and music just wafting out—a certain elegance that London and England never had.

London is burly and grey and scrappy. London is the type of city Lilian believed you would settle for. But Paris—ah, Paris—Paris, she is a jewel. She is the one you want to marry.

She made up her mind at age five that she was going to make Paris fall in love with her. She told her mother she wanted to come to school in France, and her mother doted on her, really, so off Lilian was to private academies, raised more in France than in England, despite what her birth certificate said.

On those Sundays right after noon, Lilian would answer her emails. She hated marring her day of rest with emails, but she simply got so many that it was impossible to ignore. She answered the work ones first—work before play, even on her day of rest. Then she moved onto the emails from her social circle, starting from the outside, working her way in. And then it was emails from her family.

Today, this Sunday, her husband sent her a few pictures from Tokyo, where he currently was. There were some awkward selfies, Jacques holding the camera up at an odd angle, his face looking perpetually confused. Lilian shook her head, but saved them to her computer, a little smile on her lips. She’d reply later.

Nicolas sent his usually weekly update. She was fond of her eldest son. He was the most accomplished, the smartest. He would have little trouble in life. Now that he’d gotten rid of that American girl, his path was clear. It was not that Lilian had not liked Annie—she just knew she would’ve held Nicolas back. And she could not have that for her son. Her children deserved high society marriages and status boosts and a comfortable life for the rest of their days. For her sons, it was less about finding a partner with a high income, and more about finding one with a touch of high breeding and sophistication. Annie was from Ohio. She was nice. She wanted to be a doctor. Lilian saw the way she dressed and laughed and all she saw was someone to distract Nic, someone who would use his money to further her own ambitions.

Thankfully, that was done with.

Nic’s email was brief, but still offered a lot. He called his mother every Tuesday and Thursday, when their schedules lined up. He was a good son. He listened.

The next email was from Daisy, a link to an article she had written. Lilian clicked the link. She read it through. She smiled.

Nic would have no trouble in life; Daisy would. Lilian worried about Daisy. Because her daughter was smart, yes, but not in the way her brothers were, not in the way her mother was. Daisy’s smarts lay in a world that was cutthroat and brutal and would not do kindly on her poor, sweet little heart. She’d done her best to drill some mettle into her daughter, some of that iron resilience and ambition that she herself possessed. But Daisy was soft, easily crushed like the flower she was named for. A pity.

Andre sent no emails. Lilian did not care much.

She refreshed her inbox, satisfied to see that there were no unread messages.

Lilian will always tell you that family life is important to her. She prides herself on managing her jetting career, her husband’s jetting career, and the promising aspects of all three of her children. If you ask her in public about her children, she will gloat equally about all three of them, Nic and Daisy and Andre, though perhaps if you get a drink or two in her, get her alone, she might admit that she has more worries for Daisy than the other two. It’s a hard world to be a woman, she will tell you. Daisy has too much softness in her. For a woman to make it, even in a typically feminized industry, she needs to be made of steel, her edges sharp, willing to cut through to get to the top.

Even though Daisy is smarter than Andre, Andre will not need to try nearly as hard in his life. He will get a good engineering job because he is the son of a respectable name and he knows how to follow directions. Nic is brilliant—Nic will do fine professionally, but Lilian worries that flouncy, poor American girls will take advantage of his good nature. Nic has a hard time saying no. Nic has a sharp mind, though, and that will pull him through. For her sons, life will be easy. They can be dumb, but hard and driven. They can be soft, but still sharp and astute. Daisy does not have it easy; Daisy cannot afford softness or anything less than a sparking wit.

Lilian loves all her children. She wants them all to succeed. But she worries about Daisy the most.

After her emails, Lilian made her phone calls. She started with her parents in Swynlake. That conversation always lasts about twenty minutes. Today, she listened to the hum drum lives of retired old money—hunting trips her father took, the elegant balls her mother was invited to. Apparently an old estate in the town is being renovated. The owner is a refined and poised young woman, oh Lilian you’d love her, she lives there with her partner and they throw the most delightful parties. Lilian laughed along. She offered comments. She made plans to visit (she rarely follows through). She offeerd little to no insight on her personal life. She said she misses her parents and then made an excuse.

She called her husband next. It went to voicemail. A quick text followed. Sorry, mon cher. At dinner. Will call back.

Lilian knew that when he did call back, she would be out and about. They would play phone tag with one another, never quite catching the other. It happened all the time. She expected nothing else, just tightened her lips and sent back a no worries.

She called Nic. Nic rises early. Right now, it was around nine in the morning for him. Nic always talks for a long time and today was no different. He told his mama about the emergency room cases he had to witness this week and how the doctor he was shadowing got pulled in for an emergency operation at the last minute and how he got to watch the whole thing. Lilian asked about girls. Yes, she worries about Nic’s love life. He’s at the age where he should be looking out for a respectable wife right now. Nic replied that he’d been too busy to even think about dating. Lilian laughed. Nic made an excuse, the same way Lilian had made an excuse earlier. She did not blame him, did not feel hurt. She understands.

Next, Daisy. Daisy usually answers on the first ring, but this time, it went to three before she picked up.

“Sorry,” said Daisy, her voice sounded flushed. “I was working out.”

“I thought you didn’t on Sundays,” said Lilian.

“My pilates instructor quit, so I’ve been going to this new class with Clarke on Sundays,” replied Daisy.

Lilian nodded. She likes Clarke. Clarke is from a good name and has that steely grit that Daisy needs.

They talked a little more, Daisy detailing events she had with friends over the week, the latest update on her senior project, internships she’s applying to for the summer. She mentioned going to visit Nic for her spring break in Boston.

Lilian is wary of Nic and Daisy hanging out too much. The both of them are too soft. Out of her children, only Andre inherited the resilience and clear cut ambition that Lilian has. It is why he is her least favorite, but it is also why she does not worry about him. Nic, her darling, beautiful Nic, needs some of that. He is her weakness, soft and gentle, who wants to save the world, who cares more about his patients than his status. She’ll allow that for her Nic. But that’s a dangerous idea for Daisy, who will drown if she had all of Nic’s softness.

But Lilian told Daisy that would be a wonderful idea. Nic could use some company. He is so busy.

They bid each other farewell.

Lilian called Andre next. Andre answered after four rings. They talked for a bit, Lilian asking the routine questions about classes, Andre giving his usual short answers. The conversation ebbed. Lilian did not want to hang up just yet.

“Daisy’s thinking about visiting Nic for spring break,” said Lilian.

Andre perked up a bit.

“Oh really? Is she bringing her boyfriend?”

Lilian, who had been lounging on the sofa in her office room, suddenly sits up straight. She felt a chill drip down her spine, easing its way into the pit of her stomach. She pressed the phone closer to her ear.

“Pardon?”

“Haven’t you seen that dude she’s dating? Oh wait you don’t have her on Instagram, duh. Yeah. She’s dating someone. I don’t know who it is. Doesn’t look like someone we know.”

Andre sounded indifferent. Lilian could not blame him, after all she would hardly care whom her older brother dated in uni. But Lilian cares. She’d made a preapproved list of people that would be good matches for her daughter—smart, handsome boys from good families, who had money but also would support her little ambitions and humor her interests. She knew that she needed to play this cool in order to find out the most information.

“I’ll have to see it myself.” She gave a little airy laugh, as if this were not a big deal. As if she were not hurt that her daughter did not tell her that after four years she was dating again. “Goodbye, mon cher. I’m sure you have a lot of studying to do.”

“Yeah. Studying. Bye mama.”

Lilian will tell you that she knew Jacques was the one on their third date and he ordered her favorite wine at the dinner, even though she had not told him what it was. She liked his charm, liked his blue eyes, liked that he listened to her, but still had a drive (Lilian likes a drive, if you could not tell). It was also helpful that he came from a good name, had job prospects lined up, and the rest of her friends were clamoring for details and calling them the perfect couple.

If you get a drink or two or three---a lot, into Lilian, she will tell you that there was another man before Jacques, back in university. She won’t say much, no matter how much she’s had to drink. She will say that he was English, from the crust of London. She will say he was a musician.

She will say nothing more.

She did some snooping now. She knew how to dig when she needed to. Daisy kept her social media professional and neat (good on her), but Lilian tracked down that Instagram that Andre mentioned and she saw a young man with messy hair, in shabby clothes, and she furrowed her brow, because this was Daisy and one of the things Lilian was sure of was that Daisy had high standards.

But this was a young man from New York City—not even Manhattan, but from what it looked like, the Bronx (Lilian was good at scouting the Internet; she usually respected her daughter’s privacy enough not to do so, but this was a desperate time). Not a high society man, not even an artist or a musician or someone with charm. Someone scrappy and not someone she expected from Daisy.

Lilian felt cold. That chill she had felt when she first spoke to Andre settled in her chest, spreading out, making her chest numb.

This was not going to be good for Daisy.

God, she and Nic. Beautiful, little soft things.

At her desk, Lilian tapped her long, manicured fingernails.

Part of her wanted to snatch up her phone, call Daisy and demand to know why she had not told her mother about this boy. Part of her knew that the reason Daisy had not done so was—well, because of Annie and Nic.

The tapping grew faster. This was a problem that needed to be ironed out.

Lilian could take this weakness and turn it into a strength. Daisy’s softness, Daisy’s girlishness, Daisy’s weakness for love stories…they would work with this.

Daisy had had a scandal. Daisy had let her softness turn into a weakness, but now they could spin into a strength. Daisy found love while away. She found love in an unlikely place—this was good. Lilian could work with this. Everyone loved a rags to riches story. Everyone loved a poor little rich girl finding a handsome poor boy.

Lilian tapped her fingers again, this time slowly, each finger at one time.

She could spin this for their circle in a good light—look at how philanthropic my daughter is. Look at us as a family. And this wasn’t Annie, who was solidly middle class with her own life prospects. This was some scrappy kid from the Bronx, with no future. Oh, this would be good. Lilian would get to know him throughout all of this, figure out what he wanted, give him that opportunity. She’d be smart about it, of course, a little nudge and push not a silver platter.

Give him an opportunity far from Daisy. Force them to split. Daisy could marry someone respectable, but the story would work in her favor in the end. She’d seem sympathetic, but strong enough to make a decision that would benefit her former lover and herself.

Lilian curled her fingers into her palm, then rapped her knuckles against the table.

Yes. That would do. In two weeks, she will call Daisy and ask—lightly, casually, making no hints of what was in her mind. She will pretend to be mad and upset, but then (and Lilian knew that Daisy would bring up Nic and Annie), she would soften and perhaps admit her wrongs and invite the both of them for summer. And everything would fall into place.

Lilian will tell you that there is no such thing as a weakness. There are only weak points that you use as weapons. You are only truly weak if you let them show.

#bdrptask #bdrptasks #whee

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ruffsficstuffplace · 7 years

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The Keeper of the Grove (Part 55)

Weiss was in her dream world, sitting in the living room of Keeper's Hollow. She had a piece of paper in front of her, upon which she'd written the three big questions on her mind:

Who was the secret Fae in my family, and who knew?

Why are Keepers so important to the Valley?

What else does the Council know, and why am I so important to them?

It didn't take long for both her grandparents to come up and sit down on either side of her, Weiss and Freya sliding into Nick from how deeply the cushions sank from his weight.

“Do any of you happen to have any revelations from my subconscious to share with me?” Weiss asked. “Things I've been ignoring, or dots that I haven't connected yet? Wisdom from beyond the grave, should you two actually happen to be the spirits of my dead grandparents, and not signs of this Valley driving me insane?”

“Sorry, sweetheart, got nothing,” Nick replied.

“A multidisciplinary scientist I may be, but neither a miracle worker nor a seer of the past,” Freya said sadly.

“Anything I can do to help?” Summer said as she walked over to the side of the couch.

“You can spill all the secrets of the Eldan Council to me,” Weiss replied. “You Keepers seem to have a direct line to them and a lot of sway, seeing as Ilaya managed to convince them to keep Abner alive even before they knew how good of a scientist he was.”

“Oooh, yeah, sorry, can't really do that...” Summer replied. “You know how Ruby's days are mostly just going out killing animals and trying to keep humans out the Valley? Those were pretty much mine, too. Never was interested in all the nitty gritty of politics.”

Weiss sighed. “Figured.”

“Maybe you could try touching my echo back at the training grounds with your gauntlet? Maybe you'll get a flash of memories like you did with the fox lady. If nothing else, you'll get to see that kickass fight from my eyes!

“Man, did you see me versus Raven?! I was like--” she started making fighting noises and waving her arms, up until she noticed all three Schnees giving her withering looks.

Summer slowly, sheepishly put her arms down. “… Can you dream up a kitchen for me to hang out in? Just the cookie jar will do.”

Weiss did.

“Thanks~!” Summer said as she skipped off.

Grandparents and granddaughter returned to the list. “Let's go over what we do know...” Freya said as pens for all of them and more paper magically appeared.

“One, you are a Weaver, and an exceptionally powerful one if the way you decimated all of those golems earlier is anything to go by,” Freya said.

“Two, the Fae don't seem to mind keeping us humans around if it's a good deal for them, like with Abner,” Nick continued

“And three, everyone seems to think me and Ruby are...” Weiss trailed off.

Summer poked her head out of the kitchen and made a sexy animal noise, with a “?” at the end you could hear.

Weiss blushed. “… Yes, that. Seriously, what is up with that?!”

“You being sarcastic right now, sweetheart?” Nick asked.

“What do you mean, am I being sarcastic? Why the hell would I be sarcastic?” Weiss asked.

“Well, for one thing, all the evidence overwhelmingly supports such a hypothesis, even if there's no outright confirmation...” Freya replied.

Weiss blushed harder. “Like what?”

“From the top of my head: Ruby spaing you and leaving you unharmed, and going to incredible lengths to convince Jacques to stop; her visiting you every day in jail and doing her level best to give you small creature comforts to make your imprisonment more comfortable; and then there's her passion and drive to help you find your place in Fae society, alongside all her efforts to comfort and care for you in your times of need, such as your first night in the Valley...” Freya muttered.

“And there's also the fact that pretty much everyone here except the dog has walked in on you two in some pretty damn incriminating scenes,” Nick finished.

“What they assumed from those perfectly innocent situations are their fault!” Weiss said, face now burning red.

“True, but I really can't blame them for thinking that,” Freya countered. “Spooning in the Ruby's nest, the same except one of you is clearly naked under a blanket that seemed to have been thrown over you for decency's sake, and then there was earlier when you were...”

“Exploring a valley of a different kind?” Nick offered.

Freya groaned. “Really, Nicholas?!”

Weiss squeezed her eyes shut. “I hate you so much right now, grandpa.”

“ANYWAY!” Freya cried. “Regardless of the truth behind those events, the heart of the matter is that the facts seem so much like fiction, and whatever your attempts to convince them otherwise will likely only lead to them being more convinced it is true.”

Summer poked her head out of the kitchen. “Hey, you mind if I ask if you actually do like Ruby?” she said through a mouthful of cookies.

Freya nodded. “I have been wondering that myself, yes; all these assumptions that you and her are...”

Summer attempted to make a sexy animal noise through a mouthful of cookies, and ended up choking.

“Sweet Shepherd! Why can't you ladies just say that everyone thinks Weiss and Rubes are fucking?!” Nick said as he walked over to Summer and thumped her on the back. “It's not like Nivian doesn't have a shit-ton of ways to talk about doing the diddly!”

Summer snorted and choked some more. Nick ushered her into the kitchen where she cleared her throat out of sight. After they returned, she sputtered, “You humans seriously call”--she made a sexy animal noise--”that...?!” she said, before she doubled over in laughter.

“Among other weird-ass alternatives,” Nick said as he walked back to the couch. “It's one of the great mysteries of Nivian. And speaking of mysteries: how do you feel about Rubes?” he said as he sat back down.

Weiss looked down. “I… I really don't know. How can I tell?”

“Well, shit, sweetheart, you couldn't have picked worse people to ask...” Nick mumbled.

“I concur...” Freya said. “As you are well aware, it was a miracle to everyone that Nicholas and I did not eventually end up killing each other, given our constant, public, and very violent disagreements.”

“Though if you saw me every morning after we did the deed, you'd wonder if Frosty here was just using kinky sex as a cover to murder me,” Nick said.

Weiss shuddered. “I am so happy that most of the parts where you and grandma got intimate were lost or corrupted...”

Freya sighed. “Damned shame, that...” she said wistfully.

“Grandma!”

Summer waltzed over. “How about I ask it like this: do you want to be in love with Ruby?”

Freya hummed. “Sometimes the problem is not the lack of an answer, it's asking the wrong question.”

“True that,” Nick asked, looping his arm past Weiss and around Freya's shoulders. “You can't choose who you fall in love with—see me and your grandma—but you can have a pretty good idea about who you won't mind ending up with.

“So how about Rubes?”

Weiss looked down, frowning; the way everyone was looking at her and waiting for an answer didn't help. “I still don't know...” she muttered.

“Take your time, sweetheart,” Nick said, affectionately ruffling her hair. “It's not like me and your grandma didn't take little over a year to either fall for each other, or realize all those sparks was passion and hatred.”

“And even then, before we found Candela's wellspring we always wondered if it was real, or just convenience and circumstance...” Freya added.

“At least we know you really like having your face in her boobs!” Summer chirped.

All three Schnees glared at her.

“What? It's true, isn't it...?”

Weiss woke up the next morning feeling miserable.

Maybe it was the exhaustion from having learned of her magic and driven her reserves into the negative on the same day, and seriously fucking up her sleep schedule as a result. Maybe it was the newest mystery with Gabjia's possible mate and her connection to her. Maybe it was the dream that had her wondering if she should start looking for a therapy mender, and ask Penny if she had protocols for that.

Possibly all three.

She looked at Ruby's plushie of her mother. In the daylight, Summer looked friendly as ever, her silver buttons sparkling and her smile radiant like the suns. It made her wonder if she should just learn how to sleep without a toy companion, from all the things that were coming out of her mouth in her dreams.

Ruby yawned and stretched as she got up. “Morning Weiss! You feeling okay?”

“Never better...” Weiss grumbled as she continued to look at the plushie.

“You don't sound… oh! This is that 'sarcasm' thing when you mean the opposite of what you just said, right?”

“Yes,” Weiss said as she climbed out of her hammock, leaving the Summer plushie in it. “Hey, Ruby, has anything weird ever happened while you were sleeping with the plushie? Like, your mom appearing in your dreams?”

“Oh, yeah, she always does when I sleep with it, it's why I like to hold it when I'm sad!” Ruby's ears drooped. “It's like she's not dead, even just for a little while.”

Weiss nodded. “Uh, this is going to sound really weird and insensitive, but… has she ever, you know…?”

“Stared at you the whole time, trying not to judge but totally doing it anyway?” Ruby offered. “Because that's what happened the night after I tried to uh… do something really awful because I was just hitting puberty, and MAN, hormones suck!”

“… I was actually going to ask if she's ever asked you if you liked someone. As in, wanted to be their lover.”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah she does that too.”

Beat.

“… I'll go check on my crops now.” Weiss said as she grabbed her work dress from a corner.

“Don't forget your gauntlet!” Ruby said.

Thanks to recent improvements, all Weiss really needed to do was monitor her crops' growth, harvest and replant as necessary, then water the few sections that weren't covered as the vines grew and expanded the sprinkler system all by themselves, little intervention needed.

She was wondering what she should do with all the free time she now had, when Penny came walking up.

“Good morning Weiss! I see you've already retrieved and are wearing your gauntlet, so I hope you're ready to start creating your first elemental mediums! Elder Goodwitch has already provided you a sizable amount of ingredients and catalysts to begin.”

“Already?” Weiss asked. “Isn't this kind of a really bad idea considering my moonshine spontaneously explodes, and my fermented products turn into elementals?”

“That was before we confirmed the existence of your powers, and also before you received your gauntlet and proper equipment for weavers,” Penny explained. “Now, it'd be best if you begin to make a habit of releasing your excess energy in productive ways, before we risk it overwhelming you again like yesterday.”

Weiss had a flash of Abner showing her footage of her first receiving Myrtenaster, and cringed. “Right...” they began to head into the barn. “So how exactly do I make mediums?”

“Almost entirely like cooking: you take ingredients, combine them, and put them through a specific series of processes to produce a product worth more than the sum of its parts,” Penny said as they climbed up the stairs. “Though it has advanced greatly from the cauldrons over fire pits of the Ekindling Era, the basic principles of elemental medium creation remain basically the same.”

“So I can just make more moonshine, and I'd have fuel for fire magic?”

“Yes, though it may not be as potent if you choose not to use more reactive ingredients like sulfur, saltpeter, and charcoal.”

“Gunpowder?” Weiss asked as she picked up her apron, now beside a new full face-mask with air filters, and a single safety glove for her other arm.

Penny nodded. “You could also extract the capsaicin from peppers, if you wish to cast fire spells meant to non-lethally subdue targets or just distract them,” she explained. “Alternatively, you can make an extremely spicy hot sauce.

“Qrow likes his to taste like regret.”

“Just what are the limits for elemental mediums and the spells I can cast from them?” Weiss asked as she opened up a new box of ingredients on the counter.

Penny smiled. “Your creativity, what ingredients you have available, and your mastery over your powers. I suggest we start with something simple and effective for you: making purified water.”

Weiss nodded as she shut the box, and looked at the vastly improved and expanded equipment. She hadn't been paying much attention last night aside from looking at the graphics in the instruction manuals, and now that she was seeing in daylight with a refreshed mind, she was starting to realize just how complex everything was.

“If you have any questions, I'd be happy to answer them!” Penny chirped.

Weiss turned around to do so, before she stopped.

“Is something the matter, Weiss?” Penny asked.

“Is it okay if my question isn't about alchemy?” Weiss asked.

“Of course! I'm here to help you however I can, after all.”

Weiss blushed, thankful that her mask hid it. “… How do you Fae see interspecies relationships with humans?”

“It's one of the biggest taboos, with only very few exceptions.” Penny replied. “You have to understand: for most of the Fae, humans only represent one of the many dangers they have to contend with on a daily basis, and it's difficult to find someone who's life has not been personally affected by the actions of humans and your society in general, positively, or more often than not, negatively.

“There's also the fact that relationships themselves have a very low success rate, given the fact that a number of them are made hastily, are based largely off the exotic quality of the romance than any real compatibility, and are prone to being started and sustained by exceptional and oftentimes temporary circumstances, not to mention cultural differences between both humans and Fae.

“It does not help that that these relationships are often with Fae posing as human in your settlements, oftentimes secretively, and never revealing it to their lover until the relationship has already long been made 'official.'”

Weiss paused. “So why is everyone so okay with me and Ruby being…?”

Penny made a sexy animal noise, with a little “?” at the end that you could hear.

Weiss blushed even more. “… Together, yes,” she said, making a note to begin using that instead of trailing off.

Penny smiled. “Keepers are one of the above-mentioned exceptions.”

“Because...?”

Penny frowned. “I'm afraid I'm not allowed to answer that.”

Weiss sighed. “Figured… so how exactly do I go about purifying water for magic?”

“There are many ways, but we'll start with the most basic of methods: charcoal filtering!”

Weiss pulled out the equipment and ingredients, and got to work.

Note: Hot sauce that tastes like regret is hot sauce that you taste, and shortly after go, “Oh no...” or something to that effect.

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