The holy disclaimer : GW is not mine (sob) Trowa is not mine (Which is worse) Shaolin is mine, but I highly doubt anybody is gonna steal her!

This part is my wink to Midii Une, whom I made wait way too long for this! I apologize!

Trick riding

Chapter IV : Life is unfair, he?

Trowa stared blankly at the two figures he could only guess, in the penumbra of his trailer. He fumbled in the dark to find the light switch and, when a soft light lit up the room, he saw exactly what he expected. Midii was standing at the right of his bed, with a concerned, and almost sad look he hadn't seen before, except the day he had left her in that plain. Her irritating associate was playing with his clown mask, paying absolutly no attention to him, until she placed it back in its drawer and shamelessly plopped herself on his bed, grinning at him slyly.

"Hey bangboy! Do you have anything to eat in here?" Shaolin said, and, not bothering to wait for an answer, opened the drawer of his nightstand to find some mint pastilles. "It will have to do..." She sighed before raising her hand to eat some.

Trowa's hand stopped her. He had a firm grip on her arm and gave her a glare that he thought would fix her lack of politeness. It failed.

She gazed at him sensuously, her eyes averting him of his current state of undress, before purring in his ear. "Woaw bangboy... I thought you kept that kind of treatment in store for Midii..."

Trowa's glare faltered and a noticeable blush covered his cheeks. He prayed that the feeble light and his bangs would save him, but, judging by Midii's surprise, and the fact that the demon seemed ready to burst out laughing, he knew that it hadn't.

"Okay..." Shaolin sighed, "I'll go in the car while you two decide what we do next..." With that, she left the trailer, but didn't forget Trowa's pastilles box.

"Fine. Is it too much to ask for an explanation?" Trowa glowered.

Midii shifted uncomfortably, then balled her fists, trying to be brave. "Basically, the people who asked us to steal in your friend's bank want to kill the pilots too, him first."

"You expect me to believe it? Tell me, Midii..." He hissed, reaching for a 9mm precautiously hidden under his pillow, "What kind of surprise is waiting for me out there?"

She tried to remain as calm as possible, and opted for boldness. "You can kill me, but it's the truth! And we know something about Quatre Winner that you certainly don't!"

"What are you talking about? And who hired you, anyway?" He snapped, feeling suddenly very uneasy. What if she wasn't lying?

"I... I don't know." She admitted, bowing her head.

"You don't know?" He snarled, sure to sense a lie.

"It's usual for the sleeping partner to keep his identity a secret." Midii stated defiantly. She was exhausted, she had been risking too much only to warn him and now, he didn't even believe her. That was enough.

"Let's imagine that you tell the truth, why have you come here? You should already be in a shuttle..." He said, and his tone softened a bit.

"We planned to. But..."

"But?"

"A man tried to kill us, that's how we discovered the whole thing..." She explained blankly.

"And...?"

"That's all." She breathed, feeling more than uncomfortable.

"That's all? You came here for no reason at all except a holy concern for my life? I don't think so..."

"Well you should! Now dress up! You better go and warn your friend. I'll leave now!" She snapped, vexed and angry. She felt so stupid, it was obvious he didn't believe her. It was sweetly ironic, actually. If the Winner brat was killed, they would probably be the suspects...

"Turn."

She jumped at the cold order and stared at him, still sitting in his bed.

"I'm going to find some clothes. Now, will you turn?" He asked politely, a twinge of exasperation in his voice.

She blinked a few times, then turn around gingerly, so she was facing the wall. She couldn't repress an appreciative smile, as she spotted a well placed mirror.
When she heard him fumble with his keys, she spun around, to find what she had already seen, a decently dressed Trowa. "Well... I guess we say goodbye, now..." She murmured sadly.

"Don't even dream of it." He stated, grabbing her arm firmly. "If what you said was true, then you come with me. And you'll explain it to Quatre yourself."

She was actually too bewildered to answer, so she just let him drag her out of the trailer, towards the car, where Shaolin seemed in the middle of a heated conversation, ready to shoot the offending phone.

"SHUT UP!! I don't care about your business, I call for some information, and I want it now!!!" She bawled, her cheeks red with barely restrained rage.

"Who are you talking to?!" Trowa hissed lunging at the phone.

He was greeted by a fist, served with a rude gesture, which seemed to encourage him to keep silent.

"W... What! If you know who does the job, you better tell me! 3000! And it's my last offer! ... Okay. Louie? You see the little bear on your desk? The one I offered you? Why do you think I gave it to you? Because you're cute? or because I can make it explode whenever I want? ... Bluff? Why would I? ... Thanks!! I knew I could trust you! Wuv'ya! Bye!"

"You were threatening Louie... I deduce that you have some information for us." Midii smiled.

"As a matter of fact, I do!" She retorted proudly. "Our man is known as 'Lorentz', but it's probably a false identity, and the agreement weights 500000$!"

"Agreement?" Trowa cocked a suspicious eyebrow.

"I called a friend to ask him if there had been any big stuff recently. He said somebody made a juicy offer, they were looking for a professional..."

"And?" Trowa was starting to get the point, but it was the last thing he wanted to hear.

"For 500000$, I can easily guess who is the target..." Midii sighed.

"Case in point! Platinum boy is probably already dead!" She yelled, clapping her hands.

"Does it make you happy? Aren't you disappointed you won't get to kill him yourself?!" Trowa almost shouted, worry painted on his face.

"Actually, I don't care." Shaolin said, in a much more calm voice.

Trowa didn't reply, feeling that he might become rude, and simply grabbed Midii's arm, almost throwing her in the backseat.

"Hey! Where are you going, bangboy??" Shaolin squeaked, disapproving slightly the invasion of her car by a Preventer officer.

"The question is, where are WE going. We're going at the headquarters, where you two will be kind enough to repeat all this to Sally, then we go and warn Quatre." He stated cooly.

"You dreamed it!" Shaolin spat, "I'm not saving anybody! And I'm not meeting any preventer either!!"

"You know," Midii said, thinking, "I guess Shao was right... By the time we arrive, your friend will be pretty dead. We better split. I'll go with you, if it's what you wish, and Shao will ensure that your friend will be able to celebrate his next birthday."

"Hey..." Shaolin squealed.

"She comes with us. I'm not trusting her to 'save' Quatre." Trowa hissed, eyeing the red-haired girl warily.

"My, my, my... You don't believe I'm up to face a professional killer? I can't help but be surprised, Mr Barton. As far as I'm concerned, You were the ones who weren't up to the mark..." She replied, her tone icy.

Trowa was about to take drastic mesures, but the calm voice of Midii stopped him. "Trowa... We don't want to negociate with the preventers or end up in jail. We just came here to warn you, she doesn't have to help, and she'll work for free, which is kinda rare... So if you refuse, we'll just leave, and if you accept, then I can vouch for her talents."

Never releasing Midii's arm, he walked silently towards his own car, and only turned to cast a warning glare at Shaolin. "If anything happens to Quatre. I'll kill you myself."

The car stopped in front of the huge building that house the Preventers Headquarters and Midii felt a twinge of anguish as she watched the deserted hall. she wanted to trust Trowa, but she had a feeling she could very well just be flirting with jail...

She followed him obediently through the corridors he seemed to know perfectly and, eventually, they arrived to the only office still enlighten in the building. A man was leaning against the wall, his arms folded, his head bowed and his eyes closed, but not sleeping. She could tell it. He seemed chinese or oriental, at least. There was a woman, sitting in an armchair, really asleep, this time. She stirred at the sound of footsteps and the man didn't move, he simply spoke. "Just tell me you got good news, Maxwell." He sighed angrily.

"Indeed, I have news." Trowa replied flatly, which cause the two preventers to turn their heads simultaneously.

"Barton?" Wufei cocked an eyebrow.

"You..." Sally gaped when she caught sight of a blonde girl timidly hiding behind Trowa. "Are you... Midii Une?" She asked.

Midii didn't answer, but Trowa pushed her in the middle of the office roughly. "Tell them what you told me, and if Quatre is OK, I'll let you go."

She felt something ache in her chest at his harshness, but she had to focus on the fact that staying free came first. Four mugs of black coffee, twenty thousands blinks and a long story later, she sat on a chair and observed her audience carefully, waiting for a reaction. It was Sally who talked first, "Okay... So if we believe you, Wufei, Trowa and the others are targets too?"

"Yes." Midii said.

"You realize that we have every reason to place you under arrest." Sally stated.

"We have a deal..." Midii retorted with a lopsided smile.

"I'll go and check that Quatre is safe." Trowa said grimly.

"I'm coming with you." Midii stated, turning to the door. Wufei's strong grip stopped her.

"You stay here with us, and we'll let you leave when we'll decide to." He snapped.

"I don't trust you. And I don't wanna have to remind you that, after all, Shaolin is a murderer. I am the only one she trusts." Midii purred with her business snarl.

Trowa's eyes narrowed. "You come. And Wufei will accompany us... Just in case."

Shaolin sighed in mild annoyance as she landed silently on the ground. That was so lame... Break in the Winner mansion... Things hadn't change since her first visit except that what she had previously imagined as an impregnable fortress was actually a standard manor : Gate control panel under a slab, in the green, two dogs (Which were now enjoying a well deserved, Valium-induced rest) and a few maguanacs here and there, not even armed. She smiled to herself at the thought that it was useless to make so much efforts to walk silently if she had to restrain herself from laughing her head off at those ridiculous red hats.

She crept silently along the luxuous corridors, bid goodnight to a few guards, stole a piece of rapsberry charlotte in the kitchen, before eventually pushing two heavy frenchdoors and finding herself in the middle of "master Quatre's" room.

She approached silently the huge bed, and stopped.

Tears were almost rolling down her cheeks, she was biting her lower lip as hard as she could, she knew she was scarlet from the effort of controlling herself. She musn't laugh.

He was sleeping in the ugliest of the ugliest polka dotted pajamas she had ever witnessed -Not that she had witnessed any ; She usually considered pajamas as a superfluous accessory-

She made a surhuman effort to stay serious and took a circular look at the room. If a killer was supposed to take care of snowball, he was late. She inspected carefully every recess of the room, from the curtain, to the lamp : Nothing. So, all she had to do was wait until the guy arrive. She snorted at her 'mission', and sat casually on the bed, certain that the sedatives his wound needed will be enough to keep him satisfyingly asleep. She casted a sceptical glance at the snoozing heir, and something caught her attention.

Rich and posh heirs don't usually sleep with big black collars around their neck? No?

She turned him carefully, and her heart raced in her chest as he groaned slightly, and realization dawned. Oh no. Her first reflex was to run as fast as her legs would allow and let his head explode but an unbidden and inexplicable sense of loyalty stopped her. Midii would have stayed, for sure.

Meanwhile, the dozing heir was starting to awake, so since, she was binding her fate to his by staying, she went at work.
Step number one : You can work on a moving subject, defusing needs calm and precision. So she simply sat on him, pinning him efficiently to the bed, which achieved to awake him. Quatre's eyes went like saucers when he understood the position he was in and who -exactly- was straddling him, but he was wise enough to silence himself when she gestured to him to be quiet and tugged lightly on the charming collar adorning his neck.

He gasped audibly, and whispered, "What the heck are you doing here? And where is Dorothy??"

"I'm here to save you, moron! And as for your girl, I guess she got sick of ur PJs..." She murmured.

He considered Dorothy's sudden disappearance for a few seconds, then opted for worrying about the present matter. "Can you defuse this thing?"

"I hope so... Because you're the last person I wanna die with!" She hissed, working on the first wires.

She obviously knew what she was doing, but it did little to ease his mind, since he was the one wearing the collar. "Do you have a computer or something?" she whispered, while cutting another wire with an almost trembling hand.

He gestured to the desk, and she finally left his stomach, where she had been so comfortably sitting. When quickly went back, with a frown on her face. "You do wanna die, eh? You could have told me there was a code!"

He cursed himself. "Crap! Give it to me, I'll type it!"

"No need to freak out, it's done." She said, sitting back at her place, mostly to his discomfort.

"Done?" Quatre sweatdropped.

"I'm just great."

"...?"

"Anyway, I need the computer to replace the codes that guy uses to control the triggering by my own cooking, so I can take this thing off, without risking to meet ya in hell..." She said, sticking out her tongue in concentration while she was carefully linking the wires to the unit.

He took a deep breath as she began typing feverishly, and suddenly, her features lit up. "Done!"

"I'm free?"

"No. It still can explode at any moment, but now, I am the one in control!" She giggled.

Quatre winced. Now, that was embarassing.

"Well... Do you have a checkbook or something?" She asked happily.

He didn't caught her meaning immediatly, but it he evenyually did, and his eyes went wide. "You... You're jocking!"

"Am I?"

Quatre sighed and decided that he would have plenty of time to take revenge. Later. "The grey jacket... Right pocket." He sighed.

She fumbled in the pocket and handed him the precious object gleefully, as well as a pen that she had fished in her own pockets.

"How much?"

"50000"

Quatre choked. "Pardon?"

"60000"

He realized that the more he waited the more she would ask, and he was starting to really dislike that collar, so he began to fill he check, before giving it to the red-haired vixen. She stuffed it in her pocket, before smiling brightly and tugging violently at the collar, tearing it off.

Quatre stared at her in shock and... Anger. "But.. You said..."

"I said I could control it. I never said it was activated." She replied, smirking.

The ride to the Winner mansion was deadly silent, since Wufei and Trowa both feared to discover in which state Quatre would be when they found him. They finally arrived to the impressive gates and the car made slowly its way through the park, until it arrived in front of the house. They were greeted by a very... Uncommon sight.

Quatre was alive. In his pajamas. And he was chasing Shaolin through the vast house passing a bewildered Rasheed and yelling rude words in arabian.

"Gimme my check back!! You swindled me!!"

"That was fair! Besides tell me how much you make with the group W, snowball!"

Quatre stopped and stared at Shaolin with a mixture of surprise and concern. "You know?"

"I told you I was great." The young girl huffed.

Wufei watched the scene and rubbed his temples slowly, trying to keep cool. "Could... Could somebody. Just. Explain?"

"..." Quatre didn't have the time to talk, as he was cut short by his torturer.

"It's all that bleached cheapskate's fault!" She bawled, clutching 'her' check.

Trowa stared at the pair in deep thinking. That's what marriage must look like. Midii looked at him sadly and made up her mind it was too dangerous, now was the time to say goodbye. She began to walk to the door, know ing that Trowa had seen her, but that he would keep silent. "Shao. We leave."

The young girl lunged at the stairs but a hand grabbed her arm firmly, letting her half-floating on the first step. She didn't need to turn to know who had done this. If the check chase had been sort of playful, she had never underestimated him and now, she wished she could leave before he regained his seriousness. Too late.

"Wait..." Quatre said. "I want to understand all this mess, and I have the feeling that you two are the key."

"We're just the handworkers! Now, lemme go!" Shaolin squeaked.

"I'll pay you, if it's the only thing you want. But I want you to stay."

Midii turned, curious, "How much?"

"Price doesn't matter to me. I always get what I want." He stated calmly, still not releasing Shaolin's arm.

"Why not..." Shaolin sighed, sensing trouble, and somehow liking it, "But not here, I don't wanna know what the plan B of our killer was."

"We know a place, a secure place." Midii suggested.

Trowa and Wufei listened blankly, feeling that they were going to walk into something cheesy.

"When do we go?" Quatre smiled, eventually releasing the devil's arm, which caused her to almost fall down the stairs.

"Now." Midii retorted, "But we'll need to stop for the night, it's quite far."

"It's fine by me!" He said, turning to the two silent preventers, "What about you?"

"Do we have a choice..." Wufei growled, while heading towards the car.

The three boys thought that the night was going to be long. But they didn't really understand the meaning of the sentence until Quatre had the bad idea to turn the radio on. Actually, you don't need much to make two professional thieves happy, Quatre thought as he tried to forget the disaster he had created and the glares Wufei and Trowa were sending him.

And Midii and Shaolin were happy.
"I looooooooove to love you baaaabyyyy... IIIIIIIIII looooove to love you baby..."

When the car finally stopped, Quatre had been forced to hide all the weapons that Wufei could have reach, since his death threats towards Shaolin and Midii had come from bad to... nauseous ["If you two don't stop singing, I'll tear you tongue off with my bare hands!!!!"] . Quatre had -somehow- fallen asleep, and he awoke with a start when a vicious kick landed in his ankle.

"Hey! Golden boy! We're home!"

Quatre didn't need to open his eyes to know who had hit him -not that he wanted either- and he was seriously starting to think that Allah had sent him that girl to help him atone for every single sin he had ever comitted since his birth.

"Miss Hao... I know you don't exactly care, but I do have a name." He yawned, rubbing his sore ankle.

"Yeah... Yeah, you better take your bag." She groaned.

Quatre understood too late that "take" actually meant : 'receive your bag in your face'.

They all stood in the middle of the gloomy parking, staring at the pink and yellow neon which said 'Happy heart motel', with a nagging feeling at the pit of their stomach. The next six hours were going to be so... Long.

"Fine," Trowa sighed, "Now we all choose our room, and we go to sleep. except..." And with that, he turned to Midii and Shaolin, "You two. When you're done with paying the room and setting, you give us your credit cards and the keys of your rooms."

While Midii simply cocked a suspicious eyebrow, her boiling partner decided to make herself hear, and started by throwing her bag, missing Trowa's face. Not Quatre's. "No."

"No?"

"No."

"Wufei. Tied her." Trowa said. He suddenly turned, only to realize that Wufei was smirking nervously in front of a locked door.

"Wufei... Are you OK?" Quatre asked, a bit concerned.

"Did you notice? The vacant rooms are indicated by a GREEN light. The other, by a RED light."

His statement was greeted by four puzzled stares.

"Did any of you pathetic weaklings even think to COUNT the GREEN lights???"

Silence. Big silence.

Eight eyes scanned the range of doors and widened at the same time. It couldn't be. It wasn't fair. There were two rooms.

"Uhm... Looks like we're going to have to share." Quatre dared.

"I won't!" Came Wufei and Shaolin's simultaneous reply.

"I have an idea." Midii suggested shyly.

"We're listening." Trowa said.

"Well... Here is the deal," She began, writing the number of the first room on three little pieces of paper, and the number of the second one on two little pieces. "Close your eyes and pick one!" she said, laying them on the cold floor.

Three minutes later.

"27..."

"26."

"26?!!!"

"27!"

"... ... 2... 7"

"Trowa... Sorry!" Wufei said, trying to hide his joy. He was stuck with an onna, well two if you count Winner, but Trowa was stuck with that... Thing. Cool!

Shaolin didn't need a second look to catch the twinge of sadness and childish disappointment in Midii's eyes, and her blue green orbs met the pale ones with a wink. "Midii girl...Life hasn't been fair to you... I'm giving you my place!" She giggled happily.

Time stopped. Wufei choked. Quatre, for the first time in his life, almost cursed his god. No!

Both Wufei and Quatre were expecting a strong gesture from the part-time clown, it never came. He simply shrugged and pushed Midii towards the door; leaving an irrate dragon and a terrified arabian, facing... It.

Room 26.

"I'll take the couch."

"Trowa..."

Room 27

"You two will take the couch!"

"Maybe this is not really democratic you know, and..." Quatre stuttered.

"Shut up!"

"You weak onna! How dare you dishonor us?!" Wufei shrieked.

"Besides... THE BATHROOM IS MINE!!" She had moved too fast for the two former pilots to dodge it and the bathroom's door slammed shut, with a sound that held the promise of hours of wait.

After two hours of water sounds, singing, bubbling and giggling, the door of the tiny bathroom opened to reveal a dripping Shaolin, hapazardly (and undecently) wrapped in a definitively too short towel. Wufei tried his best to suppress an unbidden blush, and let out an animalistic growl, as he lunged towards the shower, while Quatre simply gave up, and opted for bowing his head.

A few minutes later the truth dawned.

"Winner... Remember that mission in Siberia?" Wufei said, as calmly as possible, as he stepped out of the shower, where there was surprisingly no steam.

"Uh?" Quatre blinked. "Laptev?"

"Yeah... Laptev."

"??"

"You said... You said that if it wasn't for the mission you would never have stood such a temperature, and you had to let the Sandrock's heating systems on at night because you had turned kinda blue... Remember?" Wufei continued, drying himself and death-glaring at the evil creature sprawled on the bed, watching some moronic TV game.

"I... I'm not sure I understand." Quatre said, tilting his head.

"Quatre. Prove yourself that you are a man. Go and take a shower."

Quatre blinked once, blinked twice and gingerly made his way towards the lousy bathroom. He locked the door, undressed himself tiredly and stared at the taps, expecting a cockroach to pop out from nowhere, or the ceiling to fall on his head. Since nothing came, and having been raised in hammams, he instinctively turned the hot water generously.

"Ah... Aah... ALLAH! S***!!"

Wufei remained perfectly still as Quatre burst out from the bathroom and shouted his head off, clutching ackwardly his towel around his waist. "You... YOU!! You took all the hot water!!"

He was ready to face an insolent and guiltless reply, and was on the verge of murder, when he noticed that the 'Leviathan' was simply staring at him quietly.

"What?" Quatre said, irate.

"Sheesh... I would never have guessed... You know, with the three-piece suit, tie and all."

"... What??!!" He almost screamed.

"The six-pack." She said, awestruck, pointing to his chest.

Quatre almost dropped either his head or his towel. "Can't you be serious? JUST ONCE?!"

Trowa heard the yells coming from the next room and choosed to ignore them. Wufei and Quatre had fought a war, they would survive this. Maybe.

He turned his gaze towards the young girl sitting silently on the bed, not even facing him. He couldn't help but almost stare, even with the knowledge that she was dangerous, that she had killed a man, probably more, that she was the 'ennemy', he still found that strange and soothing innocence he had sensed the very first timr he had met her.
He couldn't just admit that she had done those things, and it was just over. He wanted, needed to believe that she had her reasons. No matter how angry he could be, he wanted to find an excuse, anything to reach that innocence again. The sensation that she was lost and did only what she could.
He felt himself progressively slip, as he observed her slender figure, the golden locks falling on her shoulder, almost white. What was she thinking? was she sorry, once again? Or was she just counting how much Quatre would pay for their help? No. He had seen them work, they were obviously 'working for free' by helping them, he was pretty sure that their talents earned them more than sixty thousand dollars... Much more...

Then why was she doing it, if it wasn't really for money? Maybe she had her own honesty, after all, her own vision of life. Was it written that they would always be so far from each other, being it physically or morally?

He could have ranted for hours on the strangeness of their relationship, but, right now, he needed answers. "This story, in the dossier, about that man you killed... Is it..."

"True? Yes." She replied, almost clinically.

"But... Midii... Why?" He asked, his voice quivering ever so slightly.

"He deserved it."

"And that's all? You decided, you killed, and that's all??" He couldn't hide the anger in his tone ; How could she?

She kept silent for a while, and, slowly, hesitantly, she whispered, "We had a rule... When I met Shao, at the orphanage, we were all alone, so we decided we would be our own family... We had to protect each other..."

He listened silently and sat on the bed, waiting for her to go on.

"He was so mean... But we didn't care, because we were always together, so we were strong... One day, a glass was broken, during the breakfast, and sister Vinciane said she had seen Shao, that it was her..." Her hands were trembling, now, and he wondered why she trusted him enough to tell him something obviously secret, but he urged her to go on.

"Was it really her?" He asked softly.

"No! It was Penny! It was Penny... But they didn't believe her, so we used our usual tactic, I came and told sister Vinciane that it was me too, so we would go to the headmaster together... we always stood together... But something messed up... And I wasn't there..."

Trowa felt a cold chill running down his spine, there was something fishy in this story... "What happened? Did he... Hit her or something? For a glass?"

"That's none of your problem!" She suddenly snapped, trying to push him away. "I skip, because I wanted to be sure it would be okay..." Her voice seemed to become childish, as she progressed in her explanation, "... And I saw him! I wanted to call, to help, but I could do nothing! He told me to hush up... With his finger... You see... And I was so angry. It's the only time I ever seen her cry... So we made our own trial, during the night, in my bed, and we judged him."

"What was the sentence?" Trowa murmured uneasily.

"Death."

Trowa sighed and observed her carefully. He had wished for an explanation, here it was, and now, he wished he had never heard it. He suddenly felt guilty for having left her in that field. She had been a spy... And so? She had lost the family she wanted to protect and this... This was simply nauseous. He couldn't erase their crime, but he could undestand it, in a way, and there was that little voice that kept reminding him that he didn't know how many men he had killed himself...

He had meant to pat her shoulder comfortingly, but before he could even understand, he found himself hugging her fiercely and tenderly, meeting no resistance else than a contented sigh. When he lied slowly on the bed, dozing and thinking with his sweet weakness still holding him for dear life, his last thought was that tomorrow, his life would be a little bit more complicated...

Meanwhile...

"I can't believe she made us sleep on th couch..."

"Kisama! Winner, stop squirming and give me the pillow back!"

"Shut up you two!! Some people are trying to sleep comfortably in here!"

Well, liked it? Hated it? Too dark? pleeez, R&R! I beg!!