zandroid | The Hedge Witch and the Magician

The Hedge Witch and the Magician

Julia would remember his birthday after mysteriously disappearing for months into a world where magic was real and Quentin was not invited. But the people at that school had underestimated how much he wanted - needed - magic in his life. He'd sliced the inside of his arm, a long enough and deep enough mark that he'd realize that something was wrong. He didn't really like pain and trying to cut his wrists had not been one of the methods he'd tried before. Besides, he knew the right way to cut. And so he remembered.

Since then, with no checks or balances to stop him, he'd dived head first into the world of hedge magic. And it had been something of a revelation in a handful of different ways. Magic, and the high he got from casting a spell correctly, was better than the best high and when he'd needed someone to work off that adrenaline with... Well, Julia had made her choice and it wasn't him, but Pete had been more than happy to work off a little steam.

But now it was his birthday and Marina had a mission for him. Find a way into Brakebills. He'd expected it to be just the two of them, but she'd brought two of her friends along with her and, for some reason, had invited James. Apparently she thought that he and James would stay in touch when they didn't have her in common. It didn't take him ten minutes of alone time with her to guilt her into seeing if there was a way to get him and maybe a friend onto the campus. Marina had tried to convince him to take revenge on Julia for shutting him out but had eventually seen the benefits of having two inside men, especially when they didn't know about each other.

The woman that Julia had brought seemed to be trying to devour James with her eyes and with the slightly dazed expression, he wasn't entirely sure that her eyes were the only body part involved. The man was nowhere to be seen until Quentin turned to the bar to get a drink and there he was. Thirsty or put off by whatever Julia's friend was doing?

Quentin slid next to him and passed the bartender a $100. "My treat for him and that booth back there," he said and turned to... He inhaled sharply. He'd had such a laser focus on Julia that he'd only registered that she'd brought people. He hadn't actually noticed who they were. The woman, once he'd gotten a better look, was not someone he knew, but the man.

"Eliot. I never did get a last name." Quentin wasn't supposed to remember. And maybe he'd tell. But maybe he wouldn't. And the memory of that assessing look that actually made him realize he was being checked out was why he'd made a move on Pete in the first place. Months later and he was a different man, but he still wanted to see that look again.

He used mundane magic to pull a cigarette and then actual magic to light it. "Want one?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Eliot hadn't really wanted to tag along on this little venture. He'd remembered who Quentin Coldwater was, of course he had. He'd been adorable and Eliot had been pulling for him to make it past the tests and into Brakebill's. But no such luck. Instead it was just Julia who made it through. And Eliot liked Julia just fine, and Margo liked her better than that, but if he'd had his choice Julia wouldn't have been number one.

Neither would spending the night lying to Quentin about not knowing him, or where he went to school, or any of the other little inane things you had to make up with someone when you socialized with people without magic - or who didn't train in it, in Quentin's case.

He'd left Margo hitting on the bland Ivy League guy that Eliot was fairly sure she'd use and discard instantly, and gone to get another drink.

Naturally Quentin followed him over. Eliot gave him a wry smile. "Waugh," he said. "Quentin Coldwater," he said, since Julia had nominally introduced them. He started to say more and then Quentin lit his cigarette with a spell he shouldn't be able to do. Eliot's eyes widened, and he took a minute to answer. "Neat trick. Sure. I'll quit next month." Or not.

"If you're talking about the cigarette, thanks," Quentin said and made it appear again. It was still just sleight of hand, a fun little trick that made some of the unusual finger positions easier to learn than Marina had expected. "If you're talking about the light?" He cast the spell again and lit Eliot's cigarette. "Don't. Just don't. Unless you're going to try to convince me I've been hallucinating for the last few months. And you saying I am isn't going to make any more difference than if you'd said I was."

"You're a Magician, I'm a Magician, we're all Magicians." He glanced over his shoulder. "Except James. He's just a moron." He knew the word, though he usually didn't call himself that. Hedge, he was, and he had a line of stars running down his spine to prove it. But the only difference between him and Julia was the books, he was sure of that.

"So let's just get that bullshit out of the way and you can pretend you knew I remembered the entire time."

He glanced at the bartender. "Negroni." He was going to need something really strong in order to deal with the repercussions of seeing Julia again. Not getting revenge was the right call but it still fucking hurt that she didn't have to steal whatever scraps of information she could get her hands on.

Eliot just stared at him for a minute. Finally he just took a puff from the cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly and tapping the ash into the tray on the bar. "Well, fuck pretending you're hallucinating. It's not my job derail the lie train, but I'm not going to pull it into the station for them. How'd you manage to remember?"

He looked over toward Margo and James. "Pretty, dull, not too complicated, not too big a moron. Just the type Margo likes for exactly one night and no longer," Eliot said dryly.

His eyebrows lifted at the drink order. "Bold choice for a bar. Most bartenders can't mix them for shit," he said. Eliot ordered a scotch and soda, since he'll apparently need it tonight, pointing to exactly the bottle he wants and specifying how much soda before turning against the bar to face Quentin. "So, you remember, but you're not at Brakebill's, and you know some magic. Let me guess - hooked up with a Hedge coven?"

"Maybe, but this was our bar back in the day. And I can't seem to quit it. So I know the quality of bartender they hire." He turned the inside of his wrist to Eliot. The scar was still there, light but visible. It hadn't been deep, so it would fade to almost nothing in another few months. "Turns out the spell has one fatal flaw. If you question the reality of what happened hard enough, you start to remember things. Running after a piece of paper and traveling instantaneously from the City to upstate New York. Taking a test that kept changing on me. Meeting a man who kept checking me out."

He shrugged and used the hand he'd been showing Eliot to lift his drink when it arrived, taking a deep sip. "I knew something was wrong when I saw the mark. I'd never try to slit my wrist the wrong way."

Maybe back when he'd been a teenager, but he'd learned better in the intervening years.

"Well, if Brakebills wasn't going to teach me, I had to learn somewhere. You can't just uncork the genie and then pretend it doesn't exist."

Eliot catches Quentin's hand, looking at his wrist and laying two fingers over the scar for a second before letting go. "I thought you hadn't noticed that last bit at all."

This Quentin Coldwater seems ... different from the one Eliot had met, who had been all wide eyes and fumbling. This one is harder and more jaded. But then, that's to be expected. Hedge life isn't exactly carefree.

"The whims of Brakebills are strange and inexplicable, unless you're Fogg. I was hoping you'd stick around, but the whims said otherwise." Eliot studies him and then asks quietly after the bartender sets down his own drink. "Hedges aren't always the safest place to nest. Are you all right, Quentin Coldwater?"

Heat had rushed through him when Eliot took his hand, but it was a bit of bemused fondness that had him smiling when he expressed worry about whether he was all right, followed by that ragged wound that always seemed a little too close to the surface.

"It's not the Hedge that's the problem. You're just being an elitist snob." The words were harsh, but there was no bite in his tone. It might have even been teasing except that he immediately got serious. He put his drink down, took a long drag from his cigarette, and leaned forward intently.

"You ever find the one thing in your life that's been missing. The one thing that makes every dark thought make sense because yes, you really weren't whole and this thing that you've been craving your entire life but wasn't actually real, well, you suddenly find out that yes, it is real and maybe you can have it. But then you're told that no, no it may be real, but it's not for you and not only is it not for you, but it's going to take your best friend away and on top of that, we're going to make you think it never happened in the first place."

He took another drag and then had another sip of his drink. "All my life, I wished that magic were real. And then I find out it is. And instead of getting to learn it, they're going to use it to take away my memories. And maybe if I couldn't actually do magic, I'd have understood. Knowing what's out there and never being able to do it? That would have killed me." Or at least he would have killed himself. "But I can do it. So they tried to destroy me. For nothing."

"Well no denying that," Eliot said slowly, listening. "But I'd say it depends on the Hedge whether or not it's a problem." Elitist snob is, after all, what Eliot goes to some trouble to project, along with shallow slut, so he's not likely to argue with it.

Quentin's description is grim, and bitter. Eliot can't blame him. "It wasn't my experience, he said. "But I can see why it would be a shit situation. If not for your friend though, none of us would even know where you were to have seen you again, so there's that. Brakebill's drags us in from all corners. So she's not that far away. She's better than the rest of us - most of us haven't talked to anyone from the beforetimes since we got in to Brakebill's."

"Destroying you wouldn't have been a goal. But it would have been a fucked up miscalculation on Fogg's part," Eliot said, picking up his drink and taking a swig. "It has its downsides you know, magic, if you haven't already found them yourself."

"Not so far away, but she won't come to me and I can't get to her. Better is a matter of opinion." There was a look he gave her then. The look showed just how much he'd loved her for so long and just how much it'd hurt when she'd vanished. Sure, she'd come back for his birthday, but it wasn't like she'd sent him any texts, letters. Hell, he would've even accepted a fucking owl. But it was fine. She wanted to pretend it was fine and he'd oblige because he needed something from her.

"It's better than the alternative. Or are you saying that you're ready to go give up magic and..." He frowned and studied Eliot. And there was definitely that same once-over that Eliot had given him their first meeting.

"What would you do without magic?" It was a question that could be taken two ways and he meant them in both. Would Eliot do without magic? Would he even consider going without it? Because Quentin knew for him the answer was definitely not. But also Quentin was curious what he would have been doing if there weren't magic.

Yale and his master's loomed like the pages of a book he wanted to burn.

"It's my opinion. People who care and want to see you but fuck it up are still better than people you'd rather not see, but who'd definitely shoot you if they found out anything."

Eliot shakes his head. "I wouldn't give it up, but I sure as fuck didn't want it at first either. I was small and precocious and accidentally murderous when mine kicked in though, so I didn't get immediate fuzzy feelings about it being what I was meant for. Like I said - different experiences."

He half smiles. "Hell if I know. I was a theater major, which means I'd probably be waiting tables. If I was lucky, maybe a singing waiter." He looks at Quentin. "Does it matter? I am who I am now, and you obviously remember who you are, including magic. So I think the better question is - what are you going to do WITH magic, but no Brakebill's?"

"Learn, same as I would if I were in Brakebills," Quentin said, shaking his head. Would it have been nice to have some formal schooling? Sure. That's how he'd always done it in the past. But if they didn't want him, then fuck them. He'd figure it out on his own and he'd do what he had to. "Just think of me as an independent study." With a chip on his shoulder, but that wasn't Eliot's fault. Julia, he could blame, because they'd been friends, but Eliot didn't know him from Adam.

Except that apparently he'd been disappointed that Quentin hadn't stuck around. Which meant that it hadn't just been an idle checking out.

"So you were a kid with a bully-" Because that's what Quentin took from 'small and precocious'. He knew. He'd been there. "-and you didn't know you could...what? Accidentally push someone over the edge of a cliff or something? If everything we thought about doing actually happened to us, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

He brushed his wrist absently.

"So you've been in that school since then? It looks like some kind of college. Not the place for, what? Grade school? High school?"

Eliot's mouth twitched up a little. "I admire your dedication, young padawan," he said wryly. "All right. Independent study. Tell me what you're working on. Maybe I can slip you some sparknotes." It's likely a stupid thing to offer. Fuck knows Fogg would think so if he knew. But what the hell, Quentin already remembers. He's already out there working Hedge magic. A little help here and there can't hurt.

His head tilts at the question. "Something like that," Eliot says. "Less cliff and more in front of a bus." He huffed a laugh. "Oh no. I was fourteen then. I mostly tried to ignore it, convince myself I was crazy. Blend in to the general scenery. Graduated high school and ran off for the big city, never to see home again. Brakebill's didn't come knocking until a couple of years ago, while I was finishing up my useless theater education."

Quentin's eyebrows flew up. "You tried to blend?" he repeated doubtfully. "I can't imagine you blending anywhere." It wasn't the clothes and it wasn't the hair. It was the way he looked at you that most stood out. Like he was looking beneath Quentin's clothes, but further than that, even. He'd never felt this seen before. Which was crazy. It had to only be in his head. Nobody ever looked that way at him. Not for a long time.

And right here was an in. And in he both wanted to take and didn't. If Marina knew there was a third person offering a way into Brakebills, she'd be over the moon. But while he was fine with abusing Julia's trust since she'd shattered his, it was a different story for Eliot. He hadn't done anything. Yet. And there was no reason to give Quentin anything.

Which was a thought that made him paranoid as soon as he had it, so he said, "Maybe it should be the other way around. Maybe you should tell me what you're learning and I should tell you if it's something I know already." His eyes narrowed. "What would you want in exchange?"

"An attempt was made," Eliot said wryly. "It was not the most successful. The little people in the little towns with the small, small dicks and smaller minds, they can smell queer a mile away," he said. "I imagine magic smells the same to them, just another flavor of not-like-them."

Eliot laughed. "I'd be ahead of you even if you were at Brakebills. Confident, aren't you?" he asked. "Lets see, yesterday, I was learning that alchemists are lying bastards who claim they can turn about fifty different things into gold and they never, ever can. But I did learn how Jesus probably pulled off water to wine - which is the only thing I've ever wanted to tell my dad just for the sake of rubbing in how very much it's not a miracle. We just started our unit on crafting personal spells, and I'm being told not to focus on purely sex and booze related curriculum, which is discrimination against people with no wider interests in life."

He smirked and tilted his head. "I'd say a date, but I'd rather it not be coerced. How about if the hedges figure out something cool, you tell me about it?" Brakebills didn't like to admit it, but it did happen.

"It's not a date," Quentin agreed. "Because I haven't asked you out yet. Sex and magic might come together in my book, but not one in trade for the other. More like one informs the other because doing the right kind of magic with the right person?" He thought about that last spell he'd done with Pete. And the fun they'd had after. And a certain hint of heat entered his face as his thoughts turned from memory to what was right in front of him.

Sex with Pete was fine. Good, even. But sometimes he reminded Quentin of James over there. Stuffed up. Boring except for the magic. Neither were terms that could said to apply to Eliot, even if they did have a tendency towards suits. Eliot's looked better on him.

And then, because he couldn't help it, he added a bit smugly, "Is water to wine all you've learned how to do? I learned that my first week."

And that was the difference between Hedges and book Magicians. Priorities. Hedges dealt in practical knowledge. Book Magicians dealt in... Well, he wasn't sure what. And that was the point.

"Haven't asked yet, huh? So should I pencil in you asking?" Eliot asked, mouth quirking up at one corner. He took in that little flash of heat on Quentin's face with interest. "Experience with that, I take it?" Eliot had experience with sex magic, of course he did. He had no idea about the "right person" aspect. In general, right person was just a person who was there and hot, to him.

He laughed. "Negging doesn't really work on me, no matter how cute you are," Eliot told him. "And no, smartass. It's not all I can do. I can also make a mean souffle to go with it."

Quentin chuckled. "Negging implies there's at least a part of a compliment in there, even if it's a backhanded one. I'm pretty sure there wasn't a compliment attached. Just disbelief in your cockiness about your magical abilities." Instead, it seemed that Quentin might have been the one getting the backhanded compliments. Cute was all well and good, but he was hoping to do better than that.

"No, I don't think you'll pencil in me asking you out. I'd rather ask you in. With Julia gone, I have the entire place to myself."

He nodded his head at Margo and James. "And since you said your friend could take care of herself, all I need is about five minutes to settle something with Jules." Maybe ten. It depended on how easily she could be guilted.

"Margo always and forever takes care of herself, and anyone in her way." And she took care of the people she cared about too, but she didn't like that to be common knowledge. It was bad for her badass bitch reputation.

"So go talk to Julia, Quentin Coldwater. After you get around to asking me out, since you're implying you have a lot of game here," Eliot said. "I'm even making it easy for you by letting you know I'm both easy and a sure thing."

Margo would likely NOT be happy Eliot was going anywhere with a Brakebill's washout, since she would worry Eliot would get himself a pass straight out too. And Julia would like it less, but Eliot wasn't known for making good decisions around cute boys. And Quentin was both cute, and surprising him enough to be more intriguing than he'd been at the start - and Eliot had liked him even when he was all wide-eyed fumbling.

Quentin snubbed out his cigarette and vanished the butt before finishing the last of his drink. He looked at Eliot for a minute and then wrapped a hand in his tie, using the grip to pull him in for a kiss. It was hot and hungry and all too brief before he managed to wrench himself away. "Just giving you a convincing argument to make sure you don't decide to skip while I'm gone." And to let Eliot know that he wasn't all talk. Because when they'd first met, he wouldn't have even gotten up the guts to talk about kissing him, let alone doing it.

It was only through sheer force of will - and the potential wrath of Marina if she found out he'd been this close and hadn't even taken the time to talk to Julia - that he walked away from the bar and made his way over to Julia.

"I need five minutes," he said to her and nodded at the back. It was more like ten by the time they came back and she looked obviously upset. Quentin, on the other hand, was pleased with himself. For all his talk about being angry at Julia, there was every chance that once they were face to face, he could have folded in the face of her Julia-ness. They'd been best friends for most of his life, but she'd also taken advantage of that. And now he could return the favor. Maybe they'd end up even after all of this was done.

He glanced around for Eliot and headed for him. "Ready to get out of here?"

The kiss itself didn't startle Eliot as much as the heat in it. He gave back as good as he got, licking his lips when Quentin pulled away, smoothing down his tie and giving Quentin a slow smile. "Well if I'd been thinking of it, my mind would be changed." Not that he had been.

He finished his drink and then sidled his way to Margo while Quentin was with Julia, pulling her aside for a quick conversation that involved a lot of Margo's eyebrows being expressive and her mouth being MORE expressive, and neither of them that happy. She ended with warning him to be careful and not a fucking idiot, but stretched up to kiss him before she went back to her bland boy meal of the moment.

He waited for Quentin and then nodded when he emerged. "I'd say your place or mine, but mine has locks," he said wryly. Eliot shot Julia a look as he fell in beside Quentin, seeing her unhappy face and giving her a little wave of farewell. He'd smooth it over later.

For now was Quentin's thought to himself. There were definite plans in motion, but that wasn't something he was really worried about getting into for the moment. Tonight was all about seizing an opportunity he'd missed out on. Sort of missed out on. He was pretty sure he wouldn't have known what to do with Eliot if he had made it into Brakebills all those months ago.

"I figured. There should be a ride pulling up any minute." Which could have seemed like magic, he supposed, but really just meant he'd spent the last four years in the city and knew how to book an Uber. Taxis were probably cheaper, but he was much more interested in getting back to his place faster.

He leaned against the wall to wait when they got outside and looked at Eliot. Or, more specifically, looked up at Eliot. And up. "I don't remember you being this tall," he said. Though to be fair, he hadn't been comparing heights when they'd first met.

Eliot's mouth twitched into a half-smile. "I wasn't standing next to you for long. And you had a lot to take in at the time." Eliot liked to think he was the most standout point of any experience. But the first time at magic school and realizing magic was real did slightly eclipse meeting him, he'd allow. Even if he had been putting it on pretty heavily for Quentin at the time.

He leaned up next to Quentin, deliberately in his space, slouching down enough to be almost shoulder to shoulder. "Better?" he asked. He reached over to give a lock of Quentin's hair a little tug. "I think your hair is longer than when I met you."

"Maybe. You were still noticeable." His eyes traveled down Eliot's body and then jerked back up at the tug on his hair. "I didn't realize I was." He almost rolled to his right, nudging Eliot's legs apart just enough that Quentin could straddle one of them, leaning in closely enough that they were well within kissing distance. The pause then wasn't hesitation. More a chance to savor the moment, because he was the first to close the distance between them and press his lips to Eliot's.

He'd been thinking about this since he'd first noticed Eliot in the bar. He could have waited for the car to come and some measure of privacy. Could have, but Eliot was right there within easy touch and he would have to be a more controlled man - or a more repressed - to do anything more than give in to this urge to touch and taste.

Besides, the man he'd been would have been the type to wait for someone else to kiss him and he wanted to show that he wasn't that man anymore. He knew what he wanted and was willing to take it.

"Thank god or whatever deity for that. Fading into a crowd IS my own personal nightmare," Eliot said, smirking a little, watching the way Quentin eyed him up. It was obvious, and Quentin wanted it to be. The plainly sexual boldness was still unexpected when coupled with cute Quentin Coldwater, who'd been wide-eyed and wondering in the brief time Eliot saw him. And Eliot had liked that version, but he liked the unexpected too, and his answering gaze and smile was a touch predatory.

The car, when it got there, could deal with their bullshit as far as Eliot was concerned. And if anyone else was around - he hoped they enjoyed the show. Eliot wasn't about to stop it. He curved his arm around Quentin when he leaned into him, fingers spread on the small of his back, kissing back as soon as Quentin's mouth was on his. If his hand slipped a little lower as he pressed the kiss deeper, and his thigh pressed just a little more between Quentin's legs, he didn't think he could be blamed.

Quentin made a soft noise into Eliot's mouth when Eliot's fingers brushed against his newest - and therefore sorest - tattoo. But even though it hurt a little, it wasn't a bad reminder. It spoke of how he got here, of the strength he had to keep going, and the choices he was going to have to make in the future. But that was for the future. In the present, he gave a pleased murmur for a whole other reason when Eliot's hands started to wander.

He pressed a little closer, one hand reaching up and sliding into Eliot's hair and the other curling in his shirt, and gave in to the kiss, losing himself in it. It wasn't that he hadn't had sex recently, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd had sex with someone when it wasn't the aftermath of too much adrenaline and magic. Still fine in its own way, but this was somehow better, even if they were only making out.

Eventually, his pants started buzzing and he pulled away both slowly and reluctantly, a hungry note to his eyes that said their driver was probably going to get an eyeful.

"Car's here."

Eliot drew back at the noise, checking for its cause, eyebrows lifting in question and hold on Quentin loosening for a moment.

But Quentin pressed in closer and whatever it'd been, it wasn't bad enough that he wanted to stop. His hand was warm against Eliot's skin and his fingers caught in the product stiff waves of Eliot's currently-tamed hair, tugging enough to make Eliot shiver.

He was dark eyed and flushed when Quentin finally pulled away to grab his phone, Eliot's smile flashing when he did. "Tip him well, remind me to kick in for it later," he told Quentin. Since they were about to be someone's least favorite drive of the night, probably.

He pushed himself up to stand upright, fingers trailing along Quentin's back as he did, brushing another kiss against his mouth before letting Quentin lead them to the car. "If you're secretly taking me somewhere to murder me, number one, I request you get naked first. Number two, please be aware that Margo has sworn to enact vengeance, despite my telling her not to because I'll inevitably die of alcohol poisoning anyway." He said it dryly and with a smile that said he was in no way actually concerned about the murder. Though the part about Margo was true.

Quentin shook his head and waited until they were both in the car to say, "If I wanted to murder you, the club had a dark and secluded alley." Though the idea of him killing anyone was crazy. Sure, he might have changed a little in the last couple of months. But he hadn't changed that much. He'd become a little more bitter at his lot in life, but he wasn't tempted to go out and hurt people because of it. Use them, though? That was good enough.

"But if you're worried about murder when we get there," he said as he slid a hand onto Eliot's thigh, "you'll just have to find some way to keep me busy."

He met Eliot's eyes and then deliberately dropped them to his lips. "I bet you have a few ideas on how."

The sex? That was also pretty new. But he was tired of wanting something he could never have.

"It's good to know ahead of time that you're a planner and have thought about these things," Eliot said dryly. "I'd put up a fight you know. Notorious hair puller that I am." He was also a good magician, but Eliot both didn't like to advertise that, and didn't like to set high expectations.

He huffed a quiet sort of laugh. "I might consider it worth it at this point, if you did. But I can think of a few distractions. Starting with other things to do with your hands."

Eliot climbed in with Quentin when the car pulled up, and refrained from leaning in to kiss him again after that deliberate invitation he got from Quentin's eyes on his lips. He cupped Quentin's cheek with a hand instead, body angled toward him on the car seat. He stroked his thumb over Quentin's lips instead, and then along his jaw.

Everything that Eliot could have done and that was what had Quentin briefly back in the wide-eyed puppy dog stage of his life. Or at least expression. He'd expected fondling. Kissing. Something that wasn't this gentle touch that caught him completely off guard. He closed his eyes briefly, turning his face into Eliot's hand, and let himself imagine what it would have been like to be at Brakebills. To have this man in his life on a permanent basis.

He met Eliot's eyes when he opened his own again and in his eyes was a naked hunger. Not for sex but for that kind of connection that he wasn't getting with the other hedges. He's lost his best friend and he wasn't sure he was ever getting her back.

And then, deliberately, he turned his face a little more and kissed the palm of Eliot's hand.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Hedge Witch and the Magician

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject