chapter 04

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A quick nap in Stiles' blue, rusty Jeep did nothing to alleviate Jean's exhaustion. After he dropped her off at home, Jean quickly got ready for school, throwing on a simple, tight-fitting graphic shirt and her second favorite pair of jeans, which are flared at the bottom.

Despite the revelation of werewolves, the world hadn't stopped. Jean found it truly disappointing that such a monumental discovery didn't excuse her from mundane school life. It's ridiculous that she has to pretend everything is normal to keep up an absurd charade. But even if she screamed "werewolves" through the school's halls, no one would believe her. She'd just end up in Eichen House—the notorious institution for the mentally unstable in Beacon Hills.

When Jean saw Scott being dragged out of the boys' locker room by none other than Stiles, looking so pale he might pass out, she rushed toward them. They stepped onto the lacrosse field, the freshly cut grass tickling their ankles under the dimming evening sky.

Seeing Scott so bugged and out of it, Jean grabbed Stiles' arm, dragging him away from Scott and the crowd on the field to question him.

For Christ's sake, she had just left Scott with Stiles for a few hours, and now Scott looked like he was dying. Jean glared at Stiles. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing!" Stiles exclaimed, shaking his head under Jean's narrowed eyes that pierced him like daggers.

"Then why does he look like that?" Jean wondered, feeling very confused by the sight of Scott standing in the middle of the field, looking blankly.

"Um... probably due to the fact that his current crush's father wants to kill him," Stiles mumbled quietly, avoiding eye contact with Jean, probably hoping to escape her shockingly furious eyes. Jean couldn't believe what she just heard.

How come this new girl's father suddenly wants to kill Scott? Jean decided to inquire further since that explanation alone wasn't enough for her. "What did Scott do?"

"Apparently, Allison's father is a hunter," Stiles reported casually. Jean was absolutely baffled. What does he mean by hunter? This is not Texas.

"And he hunts... Scott?" asked Jean with a perplexed look crossing her face.

"He hunts werewolves," whispered Stiles, his eyes darting around to make sure no one heard him say the 'w' word.

Does that mean the whole relationship was doomed before it even started? Poor Scott, Jean thought remorsefully. He had finally gathered the courage to pursue a relationship, only to have it threatened by Allison's father. No wonder he looked so out of place. Scott, cute and clueless, didn't deserve this.

That must've been why he looked so out of place today on the field. Jean felt completely bad for him. Scott is a nice guy, and he deserves to at least have a girlfriend once, but not with someone's father wanting to kill him just because he roared on full moons.

Okay, Jean admits she would probably go berserk too if she were a father with a daughter who's currently cozying up with a supernatural creature, let alone a man. But this is Scott. Cute, clueless, and asymmetric, Scott. He wouldn't do anything bad. Jean hoped.

Besides, Allison's father couldn't have known Scott existed in his daughter's life that fast, right? As a teenage girl, Jean could give a somewhat accurate guess that Allison probably wouldn't say anything about boys and all that jazz this fast.

"He shot Scott with an arrow," blurted Stiles out of nowhere. It was getting way freakier for Jean's liking.

Now, Jean could see that Allison's family, or more precisely, her father, is weird. She had an inkling in her bones, telling her that something was unusual. Even if Jean didn't feel that chill down her spine, she would still think it was odd. Beacon Hills is not exactly known as a hunting ground. For Allison's father to hunt here is bizarre. And who even hunts werewolves? Jean thought this whole supernatural stuff was a secret. Why would Allison's father know about this? Does Allison also know? Is she going to kill Scott too when she finds out?

So many questions rushed through her brain that it made her dizzy. Jean was snapped back to reality when she heard Coach Finstock yell at Greenberg, telling him to run faster. When it was Scott's turn to shoot with Jackson as a defenseman, she saw Scott run as fast as he could, and instead of doing any maneuver to avoid Jackson, he chose to run and collide with Jackson. It was as if he was trying to show everyone that he's stronger than Jackson.

It backfired completely. He was easily tackled by the larger young man and was tossed flat on his ass onto the grassy field. Jean probably would have laughed if not for Coach's unnecessary joke and mockery. Scott shouldn't have done that. Jean gets that he's all powerful now, but being egotistical is not going to get him any points.

Over at the line, Stiles winced sympathetically at Scott's bad play, especially once he saw Coach walking over to where Scott was still lying on the ground. They both could see how Jackson was also mocking Scott with his stupid smirk and satisfied look he wore proudly as he managed to tackle Scott. This was probably revenge for yesterday, when Scott managed to catch all the balls, including the one Jackson threw.

Scott swiftly stood up and fixed his glove and pads as Coach berated him, "My grandmother can move faster than that—and she's dead! You think you can move faster than the lifeless corpse of my dead grandmother?"

Is it really necessary to bully Scott? No, but it's Coach; everything he does screams harassment. It's a wonder no one ever filed a lawsuit against him; Jean probably would've if she were his pupil. Luckily, the swim team wasn't taught by Coach Finstock. She would've left the swim team so fast if it were under him; luckily, she got a strict but kind-hearted woman called Coach Sinclair. She's definitely an upgrade from the last swim team coach, from what she heard around.

Knowing Scott's unstable temperament right now, especially after the whole werewolf debacle, she's worried Scott's gonna scratch Coach's eyeballs out. She could see Scott fisting his hand tightly. If she intervened, the whole field would look at her and get suspicious, so all she could do was just mutter, "Don't get angry, Scott."

She let out a breath of relief when she saw Scott walk away and go try again without scratching Coach's brain off. It would've been a horrible incident if Scott actually 'wolfed' out on the field. Jean would probably freeze in place, not knowing what to do.

Jackson got back to his position in midfield as Scott returned to the front of the line-up for one-on-ones; he still looked very angry but also determined to beat Jackson. Jean couldn't blame Scott completely; she was also like him once when she was in competition with Jackson for the swim team captain title. Jackson was also an ass, so it's not really hard to get pissed at him.

After a moment, Coach blew his whistle to have them start. It was the only sign Scott needed before he ran at full speed towards Jackson. Jean could visibly see how hard he was gripping his lacrosse stick as Scott collided with Jackson yet again, but this time, he proved to be stronger than Jackson.

As people saw Jackson fall backward, landing flat on his back in the grass and clutching his right shoulder in pain, everyone sprinted toward him. Jean flinched again; this was the second time that Scott's newfound strength had scared her.

Scott needs to learn control because Jean fears that it will be his downfall if he doesn't learn it fast. He practically blasts his newfound strength into the world. Knowing that there are hunters, like Allison's father, here in Beacon Hills isn't comforting either. What if they all find out about Scott? His new relationship is not going to be the only thing that's doomed.

Jean was snapped back to reality when Stiles ran over to Scott carelessly to check on him while everyone else was distracted by Jackson. She quickly followed Stiles to see if Scott was hurt as well. When she saw that Scott's fangs had come out and his eyes were glowing bright gold as he desperately tried to keep himself from fully turning on the field, she was afraid yet again.

This time Scott could fully turn, and the whole supernatural community would be revealed—well, only the werewolf part, but still, it deeply scared Jean. Without any doubt or worry that Coach would scream at both Stiles and Jean, they threw their arms around Scott's shoulders to help him stand.

Jean's heart raced, her nerves tingling with fear. She felt lost, uncertain of her next move in the midst of the chaos.

The next scene was a blur for both Jean and Stiles, as they could only focus fully on Scott. Jean tuned out the crowd's loud voices that were worrying about Jackson's condition. She couldn't think of anything else but taking Scott far away from people.

Off to the side of the field, Scott, panting heavily, whispered to Stiles and Jean in a panicked tone, "Guys, I can't control it! It's happening!"

With her heart pounding against her ribcage and sweat beading on her forehead, Jean and Stiles struggled to carry Scott. Stiles had a sudden bright idea and led them to the boys' locker room, secluded and away from prying eyes.

Once inside, Jean hurried to the door, locking it to ensure no one could enter and witness the chaotic scene. Scott, no longer supported by Jean's arm, collapsed next to one of the sinks. Stiles, unable to support Scott's weight alone, let him down gently.

Seeing Scott shaking violently on the floor, Jean crouched in front of him, anxiety etched on her face. "Scott, are you okay?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Her concern was met with a terrifying roar from Scott, "GET AWAY FROM ME!" His eyes glowed a feral gold, and the ferocity in his tone shook Jean to her core. She backed away, her hands trembling uncontrollably.

His eyes are shining gold, and his tone shook Jean to her core. Her eyes widened, darting from Scott as her hands trembled uncontrollably. She quickly backs away to put a distance between her and Scott.

The shock of Scott's roar caused Stiles to stumble back onto his ass. He crawled backward, trying to put distance between himself and Scott. When Scott began advancing on them like a predator, Jean grabbed Stiles' shirt, hauling him to his feet.

They tried to hide behind a row of lockers, but Scott effortlessly leaped on top of them in a single bound, staring down at them. This sight freaked them out so much that they ran again. Jean was too scared to look back, afraid of encountering Scott's claws or teeth.

Scott tracked them as they turned another corner. Unlike Jean, Stiles couldn't tear his eyes away from Scott. Jean scoffed silently, suspecting that Stiles was too fascinated to grasp the imminent danger. When Scott crawled to the end of the row of lockers, they held their breath, praying not to attract his attention.

A loud bang echoed through the locker room as the heating vents opened. They instantly knew that Scott was up there, hunting them. It was terrifying that he could even fit in those vents. They kept circling the small room, trying to avoid Scott, and eventually made it back to the entrance.

Stiles saw a fire extinguisher next to the door and got an idea. He grabbed it, waiting until Scott jumped back down before spraying him. The surprise attack disoriented Scott, who covered his face to protect his eyes from the spray. Jean quickly unlocked the door, ensuring that they would have an escape should things turn worse.

Once Stiles stops, he takes Jean's hand and hauls her to take cover just outside the door of the locker room. He waits to see what happens next. They weren't sure if that fire extinguisher even managed to bring the real Scott back.

Stiles pulled Jean outside the locker room, and they both panted furiously. Stiles clutched the fire extinguisher, ready to defend them if necessary.

The moment they could hear Scott's quiet voice calling them out, they visibly relaxed a little bit. Not knowing if Scott was faking it or not, Stiles slowly peeks his head around the door frame to check. Jean was clutching on to his arm tightly, afraid that Scott would just scratch Stiles' ugly face the moment Scott saw him.

Feeling that Stiles was slowly pulling her to go back into the locker room, Jean relaxed a little bit more. It must mean that Scott is back to himself. When Jean's full body got back inside, she could see that Scott, covered in sweat, was sitting on the bench.

Scott asked with a hoarse voice, "What happened?"

Stiles and Jean both looked at each other, puzzled that Scott had no recollection of trying to kill them. Still panting for his breath, Stiles sighs deeply and gives Scott an exhausted look while dropping the fire extinguisher to the floor.

Jean was still too shocked and afraid of what had happened to tell Scott what he had done. Stiles took charge and spoke up, "You tried to kill us." His voice was grim.

A look full of guilt instantly colored Scott's face as Stiles walked over to him and crouched in front of him so he could look him in the eyes. Jean was too afraid to come near Scott. His roar full of anger echoed in her mind constantly, on a loop. She was traumatized.

Scott's shoulders slumped, his eyes clouded with devastation as he struggled to come to terms with his newfound abilities.

Stiles' expression is grim as he reminds Scott of what he had researched a few days ago about werewolves, "It's like I told you before—it's the anger, it's your pulse rising. It's a trigger."

Scott huffs a quiet, exhausted laugh. "But that's lacrosse. It's a pretty violent game, if you hadn't noticed...."

It saddened Jean that Scott's newfound ability was now a liability. Before, it was his health condition and lack of skill. Now, it was his uncontrollable emotions. He was finally doing well, only to face another setback.

"Well, it's gonna be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field," Stiles responds firmly to Scott.

Jean can understand why Scott was so hesitant to accept his new reality; he was over the moon just yesterday when he was able to catch every single ball in practice, and now he was told that he might not even be able to play lacrosse anymore.

Jean could tell that Scott hasn't accepted that fact yet, but Stiles beat her by proclaiming, "You can't play Saturday. You're gonna have to get out of the game."

A joke that the universe gave to Scott was met with an instant protest by him, "I'm first line–"

Sadly, Jean has to remind Scott of the reality at hand. Jean and Stiles can't risk another 'temper tantrum' Scott's gonna throw every time he gets pissed.

Jean had to remind him of the harsh reality. They couldn't risk another outburst. "Not anymore," she said somberly. The dejected look on Scott's face broke her heart. He loved lacrosse, but the consequences were too severe to risk.

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Jean always lost track of time during swim practice. The indoor pool at Beacon Hills High School effectively concealed the sunlight, and submerging herself in water tuned out the rest of the world.

After cooling down with 300 meters of easy swimming, Jean got out of the pool and searched for her favorite teacher and coach for feedback. "Hey, Coach!" Jean called out, signaling that she's ready for her feedback of the day.

Morgan Sinclair, a math teacher and swim team coach, moved to Beacon Hills the same year Jean started high school. Today, she sported her usual ponytail, the school's red BHS sport shirt, white nylon joggers, and her black watch.

Coach Sinclair looked to be around her early to mid-twenties; she was holding a notebook with a pen between her fingers. She seemed to be writing something, then looked up when she heard Jean calling her.

Jean grabs her towel and wraps it around her body before approaching her coach. "How did I do today?" wondered Jean casually.

She hopes today's practice is an improvement over last year's. Although she was on winter break, she kept practicing at the Beacon Hills public pool. As the weather was getting cold, it was the best time to practice there since barely anyone went to the pool around that time.

She started to feel her muscles aching from the intense session right when she stood still in front of Coach Sinclair for her assessment of the day. Two hours of practice will do that to anyone. Coach Sinclair didn't hesitate to push the team hard today, even though this is the first practice after winter break.

Coach Sinclair focused today's practice on endurance and technique. She's determined to get the team their first championship after a long history of losing.

"Your freestyle looked smoother and more efficient, you also managed to shave a few seconds off your best time, which is great!" Coach Sinclair elaborated on her evaluation of Jean.

This brought Jean tight-lipped to a smile; she improved! In swimming, a few seconds count for a lot, so her practice over the break was definitely worth it. Jean grinned proudly as Coach Sinclair continued her assessment, "However, I noticed your butterfly still seems a bit awkward. I want you to focus on practicing your butterfly tomorrow."

Jean nodded, making a mental note to do exactly that at tomorrow's practice. "I'll focus on that tomorrow, Coach."

"Good," said Coach Sinclair with a neutral expression. "We'll dedicate some time specifically to your butterfly in the next few practices. Overall, I'm impressed with your progress. Keep up the hard work."

After Coach Sinclair finished her assessment, she moved on to another student on the swim team. Taking that as a hint of dismissal, Jean grabbed her water bottle and walked towards the girls' locker room.

A feeling of exhaustion and exhilaration flowed through Jean's whole body as she changed out of her swimsuit into her casual clothes in the locker room. After practice, Jean never really showered in the school's locker room because she felt uncomfortable showering in public. Instead, she just changed back into her clothes and showered once she got home.

When she picked up her phone that was in the locker, she saw a message from Scott.

Skype @ 7 p.m.

Jean checked the time on her phone—it was almost five in the afternoon. She hurriedly gathered her stuff, shoved it into her tote bag, and jogged out of school. After practice, she loved taking a long, hot shower, and she needed more time to relax her muscles before the video call with Scott.

God knows how Scott has been brainwashed by Stiles for years; she wasn't ready for another adventure or crazy revelation to unfold. Jean needed to decompress after a long practice.

She did just that and then lay in bed like a starfish, closing her eyes while listening to songs on her playlist. Jean's whole body was too tired to do anything or even move. She decided to order in for dinner because she had no energy left to make something for her grumbling stomach.

A week out of practice had really shocked her body. Jean thought she would cherish her last day of winter break without swimming practice, thinking her body needed a break too. Clearly, after a week of no workouts or strenuous activity, her body was in shock after two hours of training.

It felt like she had just closed her eyes for a second when her phone chimed, showing a pop-up text from Scott telling her to join the video call. Sighing loudly, Jean got up from her bed and moved to her desk. This video call better be quick, she thought grumpily.

Of course, the first thing Jean saw once she joined the call was Stiles shooting at the monitor with a plastic toy gun that shot a red light. Jean scoffed loudly, thinking he was such a dork. Scott, on the other hand, just coughed lightly and moved on from the show Stiles presented.

"What'd you find out?" Scott asked curiously about Stiles, completely leaving Jean in the dark. She furrowed her brows in confusion.

How could they leave her in the dark? If Jean was just grumpy before, now she wanted to murder Stiles. No doubt, he was the reason she was left out. This always happened—Scott and Stiles had a circle where it was just them, and Jean was out of the loop again. She was Scott's first best friend, and now she was replaced by a dorky buzz-cut-haired boy. Unacceptable, to say the least.

"What was Stiles looking for?" Jean inquired further. She needed an explanation to be in the loop. Through the blurry screen of Jean's laptop, she could see Stiles rolling his eyes, clearly sensing Jean's jealousy.

"It's about Jackson."

If Jean knew it was about that, she wouldn't be that jealous. It wasn't like she wanted to know how he was doing. "Well, it's bad. Jackson's got a separated shoulder," Stiles casually reported.

Jean immediately knew Scott was feeling guilty. His guilt practically shone brightly in his eyes through the screen. Scott was trying to comprehend what his actions had resulted in when he retorted, "Because of me?"

Stiles loudly scoffed, as if what Scott asked was ridiculous. He replied with sarcasm and a hint of truth, "Because he's a tool."

Still worried, Scott asked anxiously, "But is he gonna play?"

Somehow, Jean already knew the answer. She could practically hear Jackson's bones cracking on the field today. There was no way his doctor would give him the go-ahead to play.

"Well, they don't know yet. Now, they're just counting on you for Saturday." When Scott heard what Stiles said, he sighed deeply, looking very conflicted about what to do.

Jean was sure she knew why. Scott must have wanted to be the star lacrosse player, and since Jackson probably couldn't play, it was his chance to make his dream come true. But at the same time, Scott was battling another thing inside him that wished to rip out and show itself to the world. Scott, being the nice guy, probably didn't want to risk hurting anyone.

On screen, Stiles leaned forward as though he were trying to get a closer look at something on Scott's screen, causing Scott to frown. It automatically caught Jean's attention. She, too, leaned forward and squinted her eyes, trying to make out the shadowy figure in the background of Scott.

Seeing how both Jean and Stiles looked like idiots up close on camera, Scott inquired slowly, "What?"

At first, the figure in the back looked like nothing to Jean. She simply thought it was the grainy screen of her laptop and bad lighting on Scott's part. But the moment she saw Stiles' eyes widen in fear and alertness, she panicked too.

However, the screen started to glitch as if the figure in the back were a ghost disrupting the internet. It was very freaky, to say the least. The glitch prevented Scott from hearing or seeing the warning signs Stiles and Jean showed toward the figure behind him. When the glitch was over, Stiles was busy typing in the chat room, sending a message saying it looked like–. Jean also rushed, not too slowly, behind Stiles to send a warning message to Scott.

It confused Scott even more when Stiles' text was cut off due to the glitch. Scott watched the screen of his laptop intensely, waiting for the rest of Stiles' message to come in. Suddenly, the video chat app froze on Stiles' horrified expression, and a small rainbow circle appeared spinning in the middle of the screen, indicating that the application was buffering.

A groan could be heard from Jean. The freaking internet and applications were probably broken. There was an intruder in Scott's room, and they couldn't do anything to warn him. What if it was a serial killer? Or maybe a ghost, since now they knew the supernatural world existed. Jean thought it would be worse if the figure was a ghost. How could she live normally knowing ghosts were everywhere?

Like every normal person, buffering drove Scott to become even more frustrated. He eventually sighed and started typing something on his keyboard in hopes of triggering it to start working, but when it did nothing, he groaned in frustration.

Finally, out of the two of them, Stiles' text was the one that came through, which read someone's behind you. Scott just stared at the screen with a frown, and when he saw who it was, the whole screen shut off.

Jean panickedly hit her keyboard a few times, trying to get back into the video call. "Stupid laptop!" cursed Jean angrily.

When it didn't seem to work, she decided to text Stiles, asking if he still had a visual of Scott and the intruder. Unfortunately, Stiles was also thrown off the app. All they could do now was wait for Scott to update them, and it was unnervingly annoying.

Ten minutes later, Scott's text came in, informing Jean that he was alright and the intruder was Derek Hale. He was warning Scott not to try to play in Saturday's game.

Now, Jean was all about doing the opposite of what people told her, but his threat had some good advice, like how Scott could turn and start killing people in front of everyone. It was a disaster she definitely wanted to avoid forever.

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Tomorrow came faster than Jean anticipated. She slept with a lot going through her mind, and she didn't even get to study for her practice today. She was supposed to be learning more about the butterfly technique, and while she definitely wanted to improve her technique, it was hard with the whole supernatural thing weighing on her mind like a plague.

Her whole day passed just like a blink. The only time Jean was back to reality and aware was in her math class. There was no way Coach Sinclair would let her doze off in her class. So, she focused on the board, and when Scott and Lydia were called upon to finish a problem on the board, she watched them intently.

Whatever Lydia was saying to Scott clearly affected him badly because he didn't even write a single thing on the board. His mind was clearly elsewhere. Jean wondered, why would Lydia talk to Scott?

As the queen bee of Beacon Hills High School, Lydia never talked to the 'low-lifes'. She never bothered with people that weren't popular or in her clique, so what prompted her to spark up a conversation with Scott? It definitely wearied and intrigued Jean at the same time.

The minute class was over, the unfortunate trio rushed out towards their own lockers. Jean's locker was stationed on Scott's left side. They were only a few lockers down, and compared to Stiles' locker that was on Scott's right side, there were more lockers in between them.

All of a sudden, Stiles appeared in front of them and instructed, "Hey, come here."

Stiles was manhandling Scott, while Jean just followed on their tail. There was no way Stiles would ever be able to manhandle Jean; she would never allow it to happen. Scott looked absentminded as Stiles dragged him urgently to who knows where.

Stiles stops dragging Scott until they're all over at the bottom of a short stairway before gesturing upwards to where his father, Sheriff Stilinski, is standing and speaking to the principal with one of his deputies near him.

"Tell me what they're saying," Stiles demanded abruptly of Scott.

Jean fought the urge to roll her eyes; Stiles could be so commanding. If she were Scott, she wouldn't have obeyed Stiles unless a gun was pointed at her. Scott focused his 'senses' in the direction Stiles indicated, his newfound abilities proving their worth.

True to form, Stiles couldn't wait for Scott to finish listening and badgered him immediately. Jean decided to friendly smack his arm to shut him up, which Scott definitely appreciated.

"Curfew because of the body," remarked Scott calmly. While Jean and Scott had no problem with that, Stiles seemed to be borderline bothered by it.

He scoffs in exasperation and grunts, "Unbelievable. My dad's out looking for a rabid animal, while the jerk-off who actually killed the girl is just hangin' out, doing whatever he wants."

Jean countered Stiles' assertion, "How do you know it's Derek?"

Stiles' assurance that it was Derek Hale is maddening. Is he a psychic or something? He can't know anything for sure; he just assumes, like always, that it was Derek Hale because he's the only other werewolf they all knew existed.

Scott seemed unfazed by the idea of Derek as the culprit, especially since he suspected Derek had turned him into a werewolf. Stiles' habit of jumping to conclusions clearly influenced Scott, to Jean's dismay.

"Well, you can't exactly tell your dad the truth about Derek...," Scott reasoned.

Glad Scott sided with him, Stiles smirked. "I can do something."

All Jean's senses were going wacky, sensing another foolish adventure Stiles is currently hatching up in his small pea brain. A skeptical look flashed through Scott's eyes. He queried, "Like what?"

With determination, Stiles suggested optimistically, "Like finding the other half of the body."

Jean might as well be the town's newest psychic; she saw this coming. Stiles turned and strode off without another word. When Scott grasped the gravity of Stiles' plan, he scoffed in disbelief and followed.

"Are you kidding???"

When Jean thought Scott was gonna give Stiles an earful of how ludicrous his plan was, he just walked away, leaving Stiles and Jean behind.

Jean wondered aloud, "Where is he going?"

Stiles points out to the new girl that was standing side by side Lydia and another lacrosse guy ahead of them; they all seemed to be chatting.

"Seriously?!" groaned Jean, loud enough to draw a few stares from other students in the hallway.

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⌦ .｡.:*♡ Side note!

Hiya!! New update is here hehe. Sorry if it took a little bit longer, I was procrastinating lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter (not much of an action), but it's a fun chapter to get to know more about the characters in this book. I also introduced a new character here, Coach Sinclair/Ms. Sinclair.

Ps, she might be an important character (I might be planning her fic already as we speak, no promises tho! ;))