Nervous and excited didn’t begin to describe the emotions Peter was dealing with right now. He was pretty sure that by virtue of planning this out so detailed it was going to all go terribly wrong.

And he was going forward with his plans anyway.

Plans that involved a suite at The Plaza.

He’d taken pictures at exactly 5 weddings to pay for tonight. He’d spent the entire afternoon littering rose petals across the bed, ordering a playlist on his phone, grouping candles together and basically making everything as movie perfect as he could manage. There were strawberries, both chocolate dipped and plain, champagne in a bucket and four different kinds of dessert, because who needed to behave like an adult when it came to dinner? Certainly not the two of them.

He’d first had the idea when he and Bethel had discussed his virginity. Setting didn’t matter much to him. The who of that was more important, but Bethel’s first time had been rubbish. She deserved better than that and she wanted him to have better than that. He’d suggested that when the time came, they could pretend it was her first time too. That was what this night was about. They’d already pushed their boundaries so far that it was nigh ridiculous. Peter had found self control that he didn’t know he had during marathon make-out sessions with Bethel. It had never been a question of if she’d been the one, but more a question of if the timing was right.

Or maybe it had just come down to the fact that he was tired of having self control. Regardless of how things worked out for them in the future (and he thought that was hopeful) Bethel would always be important to him. He was head over heels for the girl and he couldn’t see regretting losing his virginity to her.

He might regret the cheesiness of this night, but he didn’t think so. He was pretty sure Bethel would understand what he was going for and why he’d gone to all of this trouble. That was one of the best things about her; she seemed to understand him right from the beginning. She got him in a way that he hadn’t thought anyone ever would.

As far as Peter could tell, everything was ready. All he needed was the girl.

Their townhouse was quiet, an abnormality for the Parkers. It seemed there was always a television going or a stereo or the sound of Peter and Bethel talking, laughing and teasing each other, but today it was quiet. Bethel had had another miscarriage the week before. She was fine; she hadn’t even gone to the hospital this time, but it had left a heavy coat of sadness over the townhouse and the occupants inside.

They’d been trying to get pregnant for what seemed like forever now. Bethel took fertility drugs; Peter wore boxer shorts and it seemed like they were constantly monitoring when she was ovulating and when she wasn’t. At least once a month sex turned into work and became a lot less fun than it used to be. Their next option was in vitiro and it was step they were both hesitant to take. A few days ago, Peter had done some of his own research using her blood and his. The results weren’t promising and he was dreading telling her, waiting until she was in a better mindset to mention it.

As it was, he could hardly stand watching her around the house. Her mourning permeated every inch of space. Her sadness overpowered the guilt Peter felt for his part in the whole thing. She was currently bundled up on the couch, reading a book, but he’d been covertly watching her for fifteen minutes and she hadn’t turned the page. Something had to change. He’d promised to make her happy and right now she was anything but. Peter vaulted silently over the rail of the stairs and landed on his feet, just as silently. He padded into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of bananas and padded over to the couch.

Peter straddled Bethel, a knee on each side of her hips. He kept one banana and handed the other to her, which she took with a look of puzzlement on her face.

“I’m not actually low on potassium, you know and we don’t have rum to make banana daiquiris so….” She pursed her lips, waiting for him to explain.

Peter, by way of explanation, put the tip of the banana to his ear so that it curved and the other tip came to his mouth. “Banana phone and yours is ringing.” Yes, he did proceed to make ringing noises.

Bethel snorted a little, rolled her eyes and mimicked Peter’s banana phone etiquette. “Hullo. Bethel Parker speaking.”

Her usual phone greeting got a grin out of Peter. “Mrs. Parker, this is Mr. Parker. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Her brows drew together the slightest bit but smoothed out quickly as her lips curved up in a sort of flirty kind of grin. “Mr. Parker, I believe I’ve already been thoroughly propositioned by you.”

He laughed briefly and shook his head, lowering his ‘banana phone’ to lean over and press a kiss to her lips. It was a brief, light kiss that he didn’t draw away from. He rest his forehead against hers, his body curved over hers. “Go away with me. Somewhere. Anywhere you want. We’ll pack, go to the airport and pick a place off the departing board. We can stay for a couple of weeks, just you and me. No fertility drugs. No thermometers. No pregnancy tests. No Spiderman. Just Peter Parker and Bethel Parker.”

The difference between real life and the movies was that bad guys didn’t always look like bad guys. In this case, the ‘bad guy’ was an unassuming man in a lab coat with thick glasses. He had a comb over and he was short. He wasn’t particularly ugly, nor was he particularly handsome. His name was Ethan Thomas and he was incredibly smart, one of the brightest minds in NYU’s doctorate program. Peter knew of him in a very remote sort of way. He was getting to know him much more personally at the moment.

Ethan wanted to talk to Spiderman and he’d kidnapped a young, blonde woman in order to get Spiderman’s attention. The blonde woman and Ethan were now standing on the Brooklyn Bridge. The bridge had been closed by the police and news stations were capturing every moment. Ethan was threatening to recreate Gwen Stacey’s infamous plunge off that very bridge.

“Will you fail to save her again, Spiderman?” Ethan had yelled through a loud speaker, the words coming in clear over Peter and Bethel’s TV. He’d kissed Bethel, told her not to worry and he’d be home soon. He knew she’d worry. He also knew that the cameras wouldn’t stop rolling when he showed up on the bridge. She would get to see every moment. He wasn’t positive that was a good thing.

He’d swung onto the scene with a witty greeting. “You could have sent a message. I’ve got voicemail, email, twitter and a facebook page dedicated to my butt. Let her go. We’ll talk. I’ll even buy you a coffee.”

He landed in front of Ethan and the girl, poised on the balls of his feet. If Ethan really were going to recreate this scene, he was going to have to throw the blonde off the bridge. Peter was quickly formulating a plan that wouldn’t break the woman’s neck.

“Spiderman.” An oily grin spread across the man’s face and for the first time, Ethan appeared to be the bad guy that he was. “Now that you’re here, three seems a crowd, doesn’t it?” He shoved the woman off the bridge and Peter became a flurry of action. He threw a web up and plunged off the side of the bridge after the blonde. His free arm closed around her as he swung across the water toward the end of the bridge. He was just snapping the web off to sling another one when the sound hit him. It was high pitched, burrowed in his brain and it sent him into a convulsion. His web flew off uselessly and he started falling with the girl. The sound got louder, higher pitched and he ceased to be able to control his limbs. He let go of the girl, hands and arms twitching uselessly as he screamed. He could feel blood start coming out of his nose and ears, the blood soaking through the mask.

Peter hit the water with a splash and sank fast. He knew he needed to swim or he’d drown. He couldn’t make his body do anything. The high pitched noise was diminished in the water, but still there. His brain felt like it was going to explode. Tiny explosions sent twitches and spasms down the length of his arms and legs. His chest felt like it was going to join in on the fireworks show and then he could breathe, but the sound was louder. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, trying to keep everything from dribbling out his ears and nose.

The news would later report that the girl Spiderman had been trying to save was in critical condition, but stable. There had been no sign of Spiderman or his body since he hit the water. It would be reported that Spiderman was dead.

Peter was determined to educate Bethel in all things Christmas since she’d had a very British view of it thus far. This education had started with Black Friday, a tradition he was, by and large, entirely unimpressed with, but it was very American so they’d woken up at the crack of dawn, fought crowds, shopped and then gone back home to sleep the largest part of the day. After that had been the tree lighting at Rockerfeller Center. Today, that education was going to continue with ice skating at Rockerfeller Center.

At this precise moment, Peter was waiting for Bethel. He was on Christmas break and doing a number of freelance photography jobs, but he was still working a great deal less than Bethel who was trying to prepare the flower shop to function without her when she went to work for her father after Christmas. It was a spot he still felt somewhat guilty about, because he was fairly certain if they hadn’t gotten engaged she would still be working for the shop rather than planning to finally take up the family business. However, he couldn’t bring himself to feel too guilty as they were engaged.

Anyway, Peter was waiting for Bethel on one of the benches outside the skating rink. He had two pairs of skates with him and several text messages from her that assured him she was on her way. She’d be there any minute. Really. He wasn’t that fussed about it. He had no where to go and Rockerfeller Center was a good place to watch people. It was beautiful and the cold was quite manageable at the moment. He had a hat pulled down around his ears, a pea coat and a Gryffendor scarf wrapped around his neck that Bethel had given him because, of course, he would be a Gryffendor. Duh. He also had on fingerless gloves. He grinned and chuckled a little at her latest text message:

Is Christmas always this bloody murderous? Be there in a mo’

A little boy in tears waylaid the message he was poised to send back to her. Peter stood up, walked over and crouched down in front of the boy.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” the little boy sniffled.

Peter glanced around the area, unbuttoned his coat and tugged the coat and shirt underneath down enough that the little boy could see the Spiderman suit he always wore underneath his clothes. He then held a finger up to his lips in the universal shh sign. The little boy’s eyes went impossibly wide and his tears dried up immediately in the wake of his awe.

“Spiderman goes ice skatin’?”

Peter laughed and nodded. “Sometimes.”

“I’m Noah. Why aren’t you wearin’ your mask?”

“Because then everyone would know who I am.”

“So you’re in secret disguise?”

Peter nodded. “That’s why you can’t tell anyone. Because then everyone would know my disguise.” The mask was shoved into Peter’s inside coat pocket just in case he needed it.

Noah considered this for a moment then nodded. “’Kay. My Mom got lost.”

“Sometimes moms do that, but I bet she’s looking for you.”

“Prolly. I’m pretty ‘portant to her.”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, I think that’s a mom thing too. Wanna sit down and wait for her to find you?” He gestured toward the bench he’d been sitting on. The little boy nodded and climbed up to sit down.

“So what if you need to save somebody?”

“That’s why I have the suit on under my clothes.”

The little boy nodded as if that made all the sense in the world. “Can I have some hot chocolate?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Peter said. “Stay here.” He got up, went to buy two cups of hot chocolate and brought them back, sitting down on the bench with Noah. He’d had the attendant put a couple of ice cubes in one of the cups of hot chocolate so it’d be cool enough to drink. He passed that cup off to Noah. “Careful. It might be kind of warm.”

“’Cause it’s hot chocolate.” It was said in that ‘duh’ tone of voice that only a four year old could adopt.

They were sitting side by side talking about what Noah wanted for Christmas when a slightly hysterical woman showed up, gratitude sweeping over her features when she saw Noah, quickly followed by fear.

“Noah! You shouldn’t talk to strangers!”

“It’s okay, Mom. He’s Spiderman.”

So much for not blowing his disguise.

The mother sighed. “Noah…” She looked apologetically to Peter. “He’s a bit obsessed with Spiderman right now. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Peter grinned and shook his head. “It’s fine. I was the same way at his age. It was Captain America for me.”

“Thank you. Come on. Your father is waiting for us at the restaurant,” the mother said as she turned her attention to Noah, scooped him up in her arms and started off out of the skating area. Noah waved at him behind his mom’s back and Peter winked at him, secret identity safe for the moment. No one would ever believe a four year old.

[First Date]

Peter was ridiculously nervous. He was beyond nervous. Really. He was half afraid he was going to throw up before the date ever started. They’d only seen each other the once for possibly three minutes while they waited in line for coffee. He’d written his number on her coffee cup and she’d scribbled hers on his arm. She’d texted first and it had kicked off a month long texting spree in which he kept promising her they’d eventually see each other, but their lives kept getting in the way. Most of the time it’d been the Spiderman thing, but there was also her trip to England, a cold that she refused to give to him, finals week for him and a chance to photograph a last minute wedding that he couldn’t afford to turn down.

Tonight posed the greatest chance to actually see each other that they’d had in that month of near constant texting. (He’d already had nightmares about his phone bill because there was a week of constant international texting on it). Peter wasn’t used to dating. His first girlfriend had been Gwen and after she’d died, he’d sort of given up on the idea of dating. Guilt had pushed him into a kind of solitude. He’d gotten used to it a long time ago, but returning to it after Gwen had taken him a while to adapt. Meeting Bethel hadn’t been planned and if she hadn’t texted him first, he would have never pursued it. It wasn’t safe for anyone to be in a relationship with him, which was why he was currently pacing in front of the Lego store, talking himself either out of leaving or into leaving before Bethel arrived. He flip-flopped from one to the other every few seconds. He probably looked a little like a crazy person, scrubbing at his head and then running his hands down his face, leg bouncing every time he stood in one place for long, fingers moving in time to the music piped into his ears by his earbuds.

He couldn’t leave. Not now, not even knowing that Bethel would be safer without him in her life. He’d fallen in love with her early on in their text relationship. She’d defended Spiderman and she’d passionately advocated that the man in the suit was the hero. Even if she hadn’t been funny, smart, geeky and beautiful, he would have fallen a little bit in love with her for that alone. With that decided, he could relax and just wait until she got there.

He’d shown up ridiculously early.

Of course, there was always the question of whether they’d get along as well in person as they did in text messages. Maybe, in person, she’d find him entirely too awkward. Although, he’d spent a good deal of their text messages warning her that he was incredibly awkward in person. It was possible in person that he would find she was an entirely different kind of person than the one represented in the texts. He didn’t really believe that one though. She’d been too honest and he’d seen her in too many moods to think that she wasn’t who he believed she was.

There was also the possibility that she’d figured out early on about his alter ego. He’d been fairly arrogant at first and if she paid any attention to the news, there were probably some things that lined up with some of the excuses for not being able to meet up with her again. She could have figured out that he was Spiderman and she could be in this just to be famous. There had been a girl last month that’d claimed to be his girlfriend in an exclusive interview to a tabloid rag. He’d never seen the girl in his entire life.

On the flip side, if things worked out between them, the Spiderman thing could be a deal breaker. He’d have to leave in the middle of dates, even the middle of the night. He would miss holidays, anniversaries, and birthdays because of Spiderman. That was the easy part of having him for a boyfriend. The hard part was much more dangerous and led to a much shorter life span.

Crap.

He really should have ignored that text message she’d sent him. The first one. He should have deleted it. He should have never sent anything back. He should have and yet part of him was ridiculously glad he hadn’t: the part of him that managed to forget for five seconds that she could end up dead.

Next time (when exactly had he decided there would be a next time?) he would make certain he didn’t arrive early so that he wouldn’t have time to psych himself out. Next time, he would make a return to perpetual tardiness and he would try to explain to Bethel that really was the better option.

[Great heroes need great sorrows and burden or half their greatness goes unnoticed. It’s all part of the fairy tale—Peter S. Beagle]


Too Late
Too Late
Too Late

The words thundered in his head. They set the tempo for a heart that was racing too quickly and overrode the need to breath.

She was so still, so cold, his lips pressed against hers, fingers searching for a pulse that wasn’t there. “Please,” he murmured against her skin over and over again. God wouldn’t be so cruel. This couldn’t happen again, wouldn’t happen again.

“You’re too late, Peter. Again. Or maybe, you killed her. She’s not as strong as you. She’s just. Like. Me. “

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. “Go away. Go away. Go away.”

“Is that any way to treat a girl you broke promises for?” There was a maliciousness in her voice that had never been there in life. “And to think, if you hadn’t broke that promise, I’d still be alive today.” There was a pause and Peter thought for a moment, she’d gone away. “But she wouldn’t.”

He opened his eyes, flinching at the words. He could see the blonde out of the corner of her eye, neck twisted at an unnatural angle.

“What sort of promises did you break for her, Peter? Maybe it was the one where you promised yourself you’d never fall in love again, the one you made the day of my funeral. Tsk, tsk, you knew she’d end up this way, Bug Boy. You knew and you did it anyway.” She drew a broken heart in the frost on the glass before continuing. “Don’t sweat it. One dead girl,” a shrug, “two. You might have a whole harem of us before you graduate from college.”

Her body burned cold against him as he hunched over it, protective against the blonde’s accusations. He knew they were justified. He’d killed her and now he’d killed Bethel.

The body in his arms pulled away to take her place next to Gwen, arms crossed over a chest that no longer fell and rose with breath. “I trusted you.”

“Your first mistake.”

“I thought you could keep me safe.”

“Me too.”

“Peter…Peter…Peter!”

It wasn’t her screaming that woke him up or the way she shook him. It was her hands, warm against his skin. His eyes flew open and for a moment, he scrambled backwards, the words of the dead girls still ringing in his head. Once the sleep cleared from his mind, he noticed her cheeks flushed with color, her eyes bright with life and he reached up to place his hand at the curve of her neck, her pulse jumping wilding against his fingertips.

[damage]


Agony didn’t begin to describe how Peter was feeling right now. It hurt to breathe; it hurt to think about breathing, but it was almost over. He only had to remain conscious and moving a little while longer. Dr. Frost was immobilized, unconscious and wrapped up in enough web to stop a train, literally. The police were on their way; he could hear sirens wailing from a distance and the window in which he could get out of here was growing shorter by the second. His left shoulder was dislocated. He had known that from the moment it’d happened. With the assistance of his web and a still-standing-pillar, he pulled it back into place, biting off a scream as it popped back.

That taken care of, Peter dragged himself across the now empty space to where Bethel was just coming around. He’d been making an annoyance of himself in Dr. Frost’s eyes for two weeks. In an effort to shut him down, he’d found out about Bethel, kidnapped her and used her as bait. It had worked exactly as Dr. Frost had planned with one exception: Dr. Frost had seriously underestimated how dangerous it had been to motivate Peter. Once he’d crossed the space, he fell to his knees next to Bethel, pain radiating through his body, pain that he scarcely felt at the moment. He brushed a hand across Bethel’s forehead, smoothing her bangs back and smiled gratefully, genuinely. He was beat all to hell, Bethel was a little worse for the wear. She’d been drugged, tied up, threatened and kept in a room that was practically a walk-in freezer. Her lips were a little blue and he swore he could still see crystals of ice mixed in with her lashes, but they were both alive and she was responsive. She’d warm up and she’d be okay.

“Hey, Pretty Girl.” His voice grated painfully in his throat, funny how being throttled would do that to a person. “We’ve gotta get out of here. Police are on their way.” Bethel knew enough to know that if the police caught either of them here, there would be questions they couldn’t answer. “Think you can stand up?”

Bethel nodded, mumbling something that Peter didn’t catch. He slid an arm under her shoulders, grabbed her wrist and gingerly helped her to her feet. Once she was on her feet, they both hobbled in the direction of a plate glass window that’d been broken.

“I know you’re gonna hate this, but it’s the only way to get home.”

“Shut it. I just want to be home.”

It actually bolstered his spirits and gave him hope. If she was feeling well enough to tell him to shut it then she’d be okay. The pain was practically blinding when he picked her up. He literally saw black dots swimming in his vision. Bethel sort of clung bonelessly to him. He swayed on his feet, taking a moment to wrap some web around both of them, effectively papoosing her to his chest. It took strength he didn’t have to keep from dropping her, but with the web all he had to worry about was standing upright and she was still out of it enough that he hoped she didn’t realize just how badly he’d been beaten. The dark light in the partially destroyed twentieth floor of the OsCorp building aided him there. She couldn’t see his face well enough to tell it was a mass of purple bruising and caked with blood, a good deal of it his.

The only reason they made it back to the flat was because he could swing without effort all the way to their fire escape. Once there, he climbed through the window, severed the webbing holding them together and collapsed on the bed, laying Bethel down as carefully as possible then crumpling next to her. With one hand, he stroked her hair, murmuring over and over in quiet, rough whispers like a balm that could ease all of their pain.

“S’okay now. You’re okay.”

She had to be okay, because he couldn’t stand it if something happened to her. He was already struggling with guilt that weighed on him heavier than any physical damage. His promise to Chief Stacey rang in his ears. Arthur Tobias should have extracted the same sort of promise out of him and Peter should have honored it. Bethel would be safe and unharmed right now if he had. Chief Stacey had tried to tell him that he would hurt everything and everyone he touched, but he’d been young and optimistic. He hadn’t wanted to believe the man, but his words came back to him from the grave. He’d been right. Spiderman couldn’t have anyone in his life because it made the people he loved targets. It’d been proven to him time and again. This was just a repeat lesson that he hadn’t yet learned and it’d come at the price of Bethel’s safety, but he couldn’t bring himself to take any of it back.

He desperately hoped they could both live with the damage.

It was Halloween. Of course there was going to be a frat party and Bethel had promised she'd go to the next one with Peter to prove to his friends that she was real and not just a figment of Peter's imagination, fueled by photoshopped pictures. It didn't help that he was a photographer and actually knew how to use photoshop for things like that.

In any case, they were heading to the frat party dressed appropriately as the Tenth Doctor and the Unicorn from the Agatha Christie episode. Peter really was perfect for the Tenth Doctor, he even had the glasses tonight and Bethel was a dead ringer for the Unicorn. Peter was extra twitch and nervous tonight. He couldn't leave his hair alone and he kept unbuttoning his jacket and buttoning it back up. He knew they'd love Bethel. It was impossible not to love Bethel, but he also knew they were going to wonder how the hell he'd ended up with a girl like her.

"You look really hot. I mean I said that, didn't I?" He was rambling as they walked up the sidewalk toward the frat house where the party was being held. They could already hear the music and the sound of the party erupting from the building. There were all sorts of costumes already scattered across the lawn in front of the house. It was a science frat so there were a lot of Einsteins some Marie Curries, several Sheldons and a Sherlock or two, but so far, Peter was pretty sure he was the only Doctor.

[I love sleep. My life tends to fall apart when I’m awake, you know?—Ernest Hemingway]


Peter had a girlfriend. Because he had girlfriend, he should take her out on dates. That was what a boyfriend did. Dates were how a couple defined themselves as a couple. He knew this because he heard other people talk about dating. It was practically a synonym for committed relationship.

The thing was, Peter and Bethel tended to stay at home a lot. They watched movies and marathoned entire seasons of television on DVD. They played video games and ordered take out. A lot. What they didn’t do a lot was go out on dates. Peter was pretty sure that wasn’t normal. Dinner and a movie was normal, so that’s what they were doing tonight. Dinner had been a success; they’d eaten at their favorite Chinese restaurant, the place they got take out from nearly every night.

Now they were walking along the sidewalk toward the movie theater to see the premiere of Skyfall. Bethel was so excited, she was bouncing on her toes as they walked. She’d been talking about James Bond for weeks now and Peter was pretty sure that if Bond showed up looking for a new Bond girl, he’d be minus a girlfriend. He didn’t mind much because one: fictional character, and two: if Bond were taking applications for a sidekick in a nonsexual sense, Peter would put in his application. He thought he had a pretty good chance with the whole spidey powers gig he had going on.

They were about halfway to the theater when they heard a scream. Peter already had an apology in his eyes and he started to shrug out of his jacket and had it to her.

“Just go.” She rolled her eyes as she shoved him in the general direction of the scream. He didn’t need anymore urging. He ran into an alley and if anyone had been watching up, they would’ve seen Spiderman shoot a web at one of the higher buildings and swing across before dropping off the side of the building.

Muggings were always touch and go. The one Peter dropped into involved a knife and a girl who wouldn’t give up her designer bag. The rescue took longer than Peter expected because the mugger had friends. By the time Peter had wrapped the muggers up, saved the damsel and her purse, ducked out of the way, changed and caught up with Bethel, the line for Skyfall was ridiculous.

In fact, it wasn’t looking hopeful that they were going to get into the theater. The movie started in twenty minutes and the line wrapped around the building. This wasn’t how he saw the date working out.

“I’m sorry.” He was prepared to go home, dejected and Bond-less. Maybe they’d put the old movies on at home and collapse on the couch. Their ‘dates’ seemed to work out better when they stayed at home anyway.

“Pardon? No. We’re not leaving without seeing this movie.” Bethel was giving him a look that practically broadcast ‘I’m with a crazy guy’.

“Bee…we can come back and see the late show.”

“Nope. You saved someone tonight, which is why we’re late. That earns you the right to see this showing of the film.”

That got a crooked grin out of him. “Spiderman saved someone tonight. Peter Parker just forgot his phone at the restaurant restroom and had to go back to get it.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “So Spiderman can get us to the front of the line.”

Now she was getting his bwah look. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m seeing this movie. Now use your spidey-ness to get us in.”

“Bethel…I can’t—“ Well, he could. It was possible. There was a whole discussion of the morality of it paired with abuse of power. In the end, he decided it was minor enough that it didn’t really matter, and they were late because he’d saved a girl tonight and caught two muggers that probably weren’t going to stop with the one girl.

Two minutes later, Spiderman escorted Bethel to the front of the line, spoke to the manager and was given free tickets, popcorn and sodas. Peter Parker took his place before the movie started and watched the movie with his girlfriend.

Overall, it was a very small abuse of power and the movie, had been worth it.