“T-Tom?"

As he stared at the grey wolf, Red Wolf, in
front of him, Octo could only freeze in shock. Tom looked like he just fought
an army; there were several slashes on his clothes and body, his muzzle looked
bloody, and most disturbing of all, he did not seem to notice all of those. The
wolf was also staring at him in shock, eyes wide.

He couldn't believe his eyes. Seeing that Red
Wolf was Tom on paper was disturbing enough; seeing him right in front of him
with weapons and blood was another
thing entirely. What cruel joke was this? This must not be real! This must be a
dream! Tom wouldn't even dare hurt a fly!

Yet, the snow slowly piling on his body said
that this was real.

“Tom…" he trailed off as his chest tightened.
“L-let's… let's get to safety…"

That seemed to bring the wolf back to his
senses. Tom took a step back. “Octo… are you… a part of this?"

The wolf's voice sounded broken, and not just
from the injuries he suffered. Those words pierced his heart like daggers,
making him take a step back. He had blood in his hands, he knew, yet now, he
realised he was also holding a leash to Tom, binding him.

The silence sounded too loud, so he answered
simply. “Yes…"

Tom sobbed, but only for a moment. He then
growled, gripping his head with ragged breath as if trying to get himself under
control. He staggered backwards, and Octo wanted to get there and help him when
he noticed the eyes. The wolf was staring at him, eyes filled with malice.

Then, he howled.

Octo could only stare in horror, wondering
what was happening. The howl sounded chillingly familiar with what he heard six
seasons ago, further confirming that Tom was indeed Red Wolf. But this time, it
sounded fiercer with a touch of growling.

“T-Tom? L-let's… get to safety." He offered.

Tom, instead, growled at him. “Fate brought
us here. Who are we to question fate?" He said roughly between growls.

Octo closed his eyes and gritted his teeth,
taken aback. He crossed his necklace tightly as tears began to fall. The wolf's
trust in him was crumbling. His aggressiveness increased as he held his metal
staff fast with fur bristled and tail waving high, and the display made the
wolf's words more pronounced.

Fate brought him here. Who was he to question
fate? To question fate meant to question God. This was meant to happen, just
like Giovanni's own to go before him and his own to inherit such a detestable
endeavour.

“You will die
for this, panther!" Tom's breathing became even more ragged. This time, his eyes were wide,
filled with pure hate, and he pronounced, “You
will… fuckin' die…!"

Letting go of his cross necklace, the panther
unsheathed the dagger on his belt and then took his stance. After seeing what
Tom could do, he was sure none of them could really take the other down, and
that was exactly what he wished. They watched each other as they took their
stances, his disturbed brown gaze meeting the wolf's fierce red gaze. No one
wanted to be the first one to betray their own words.

The snow around them felt a lot colder than
it actually was.

Tom charged first, and that took him by
surprise. Octo blocked the wolf's attack and lunged his dagger forward, but Tom
quickly blocked it using his staff. Tom replied by smacking the panther's
shoulder, but Octo managed to dodge it before it hit him. Octo jumped back a
bit, then quickly charged at him again. To his surprise, the wolf took his hand
and redirected him away. He then punched his back as he followed the panther's
movement. Octo groaned in pain as his chest tightened.

Taking his feet, the panther managed to find
his balance before he could fall into the snow. He looked up to find Tom
charging at him. Copying the wolf's defence, Octo took hold of the staff and
used his momentum to throw Tom into the wall. The wolf's back met the wall, and
he roared as pain shot up his body.

Before Octo could attack him again, Tom did
that first. The wolf ran to his staff, then twisted it, using its momentum to
sweep the panther's feet. Octo managed to jump before it hit him. He landed on
his hands and threw some snow at the wolf before jumping again and landing on
his feet.

That put the wolf off-guard, but even with
his face full of snow, Tom still charged at him. Deflecting the staff with his
dagger, Tom stumbled into him. Octo wanted to land the dagger on the wolf, but
instead he redirected his attack and threw the metal staff away. The wolf
kicked his chest away and leapt away but lost his balance and stumbled instead.

The staff planted itself into the snow a bit
far from them as they stood back up, breathing heavily, daggers ready at each
other.

Tom ran towards him but aimed for his left
side. Surprised by that, Octo gritted his teeth when the wolf's dagger grazed
his shoulder. Octo turned around and lunged at the wolf, but the wolf blocked
that. They snarled as they kept blocking the other's attack, then Tom let go of
his right hand, sending the panther stumbling forward. Octo quickly recovered
and almost landed his dagger on Tom's back only for the wolf to take his hand
and use his momentum to punch his side.

Taking the moment to take a breath, Octo
stared at the wolf. He was a lot stronger, but Tom was fast and kept aiming for
his weak spots. What he lacked in strength he made up in agility and accuracy.
Tom didn't hit him with brute force, but with small, quick jabs which actually
hurt. Heck, Tom hurt him more by redirecting his attacks to himself rather than
attacking him outright.

Octo snarled in a newfound admiration for the
wolf. He always considered himself to be skilful in close combat like this, but
even with his current condition, Tom still managed to get him heaving just a
few minutes after they started. He was definitely experienced in this sort of
thing.

Yet that didn't relieve him from the fact
that they were still fighting each other. Why must it be him? Why must they do
this? Must they do this in the first place?

The snowfall was getting heavier, and so was
his heart as he mirrored the stance the wolf took before him.

“I notice you don't talk much, Tom. Even Max
told me that even when you're very interested in a topic, you can just shut
down and fade into the background as quickly as you appear."

Tom sipped his tea, letting out a sigh.
Looking out the window, his mouth turned into a soft yet bitter smile. “When
you're turned down so often, you'll come to realise that the effort isn't worth
it. I can't talk to someone who doesn't want to listen, can I?" He paused.
“Everyone has a story to tell, an opinion to share, so what am I but one
amongst many? Who would want to listen?" He bitterly chuckled.

“But that's not true. Sure, you're just one
amongst many, but your story is as interesting as, if not more than theirs."
The stoat replied, noticing the relaxed stance the wolf was in whilst
answering. He noted the observation into the tablet in front of him, keeping
his attention to the wolf.

“Maybe, but can an explosion really happen
when no one is there to listen? What use are words when no one listens? I…
prefer keeping things to myself and only share them when I think the time is
right, but the right time always comes and goes, and the right person might not
be there at the right time."

The stoat just nodded and wrote it down. “You
know," he said after he wrote. “I'm here. I'll listen."

Tom turned his head to him and smiled. “I
know, and thanks for that. But I also know that this is a job, a formal
exchange. The moment I come in here, I already know you'll listen. Sadly, the
world outside is not like that." He gave a sigh, then turned to the window
again. “Not like that."

Reaching down to take his own glass of water,
the stoat took a sip. “Max does."

“Yeah, yeah he does."

The stoat put the glass down. “What do you
think of Max?" He changed the topic. “As a person, not as your partner."

Tom hummed. “As a person… he's kind and
caring, rough yet gentle, big yet small, wild yet tame." He let out a fond
chuckle. “Frankly, he's too… good for
me. I mean, look at me. I… I'm broken. I killed people. I have two, even three,
minds. I barely function as a normal person."

“But a person is still a person, no matter
how broken."

Unexpectedly, the wolf laughed gently, though
it lacked joy. “Yeah, I suppose so. Although, I'm not sure people would… well,
tolerate someone who killed others."

The stoat wrote that down. “Why did you do
it, then, knowing the results?"

“The world is cruel to everyone, and mine
taught me that it was either kill or be killed." Tom answered, his tone still
relaxed despite the topic. The stoat found it disturbingly fascinating. “I just
went with it, waiting for the moment where life can teach me another lesson. It
did, actually, and I'm very glad I moved past it."

The stoat nodded again. “Morally speaking,
it's still wrong, though."

“I know."

“How did you move past it?"

Tom smiled. “Max."

They went quiet.

The wolf continued. “Max is… the light at the
end of the tunnel, the star I've reached. He listened, he didn't judge. He…
gave me an ear to listen, a shoulder to lean on. I mean, well, I'm broken. I
trust very few people. So many people have left me when I asked them to stay.
Yet Max…"

The stoat wrote that down.

“…he stayed."

A thousand thoughts ran in his head, yet he
could only focus on one.

As he dodged the punches and stabs and
delivered some of his own, he focused only on one. Octo, the panther in front
of him, seemed less and less like someone he knew and trusted and more and more
like an enemy. Lain was fighting with all he could do while the third voice was
screaming inside his head, wanting to take over. They finally found someone
they could blame for ruining their lives.

Yet, Tom, he did not believe it.

Lain wanted revenge, the third voice wanted
blood, yet Tom… for the first time in a long time, he did not know what he
wanted. Punches he dodged, jabs he delivered, against the panther's shoulder
his dagger scraped, yet inside he was debating why.

Why, of all he knew, was Octo the one to
betray him?!

He turned around to see the panther lunging
at him, but he was quick to block the attack. Teeth gritted, they looked into
each other's eyes, both filled with hate and the desire to hurt, yet there was
also… something else in the panther's eyes, something akin to horror, maybe, or
shock.

He couldn't tell what it was, so he let go of
the panther's right hand, making him stumble forward. Octo was quick to
recover, though, and redirected his dagger into his back. Tom reacted quickly
and took his arm, using the momentum to land a punch on the panther's side,
sending him a few steps backwards.

“Fucking let me
take over already?! What else do you want to know?! That fucking panther
stabbed us on the back!"

He was heaving his breath as he stared at
Octo in front of him. The snow around them was starting to paint red. It was
almost beautiful, really. The snow fell so gently, landing on his fluff and
giving him coldness.

Maybe it really was meant to happen. This
really was his reckoning. He met someone to blame for almost all that went
wrong in his life and he was meant to seize the chance. Octo might have been
someone important in his life, yet as he watched the panther slowly stand up,
he began to think that all of it had been an act.

The panther retook his stance.

One step, only one step the panther took
would be the moment for him to finally admit defeat and let Lain take over. He
was proven wrong, and all this time, Lain demanded justice. He—they were betrayed, and hate was
creeping into them. Life was indeed a cruel master, and truth was an
extravagant way to give someone a slap on the face.

Yet… the panther dropped the dagger and held
his arms up.

Like watching a dam breaking, tears began to
flow from the panther's eyes. “Tom!" he almost shouted, “It's me, Tom! I-I
didn't w-want this!"

Tom tilted his head.

“Y-yes, I'm a part of t-this, but I
didn't-didn't want this! Let's just stop!"

His tail began to relax.

“I'm s-sorry, Tom! S-stop!" The panther began
to cry.

Overwhelmed by emotions, Tom could only look
down, falling into the depths of his mind as he was powerless to prevent Lain
from taking over.

“Fucking hell I would! A thousand years have
I waited for this!"

Who was speaking? He wasn't sure. Whether it
was Lain or the third voice, their voices sounded the same. Octo's face fell
into horror as he heard that, even more so when he heard laughter.

“You will rot like I did, you back-stabbing
panther! Hell's gonna be so glad when I deliver you!"

Tom wanted to reach out, to tell whoever was
in charge of the body to stop, to let words be spoken first before they killed
yet one more person again…

A finger to unconsciousness, he managed to
stop.

Yet he was powerless to stop Lain from taking
a stance and running towards their metal staff, taking it away and rushing
towards the panther. The sound of metal clanking against metal was deafening as
he looked for any reason, anything he
could offer Lain to stop.

Max… yes, Max…

“Stop!"

“You're not
fucking stopping me now!" They almost landed a dagger on the panther's shoulder. “Stay there like a good doggy and let third
voice speak or try to stop him, fuck-all I care!"

“We can't do
this! Max will…"

“He's your reason to live, not mine!"

“But this isn't
what we promised…"

“Will you just shut up already?!"

Lain screamed that part, jumping away from
Octo yet still staring at him. The panther stared at him, chest heaving, face
pained and confused because he didn't say anything.

“Will you just let me fucking take everything
over for once?! Ten years I spent being a voice in your mind and you're not
gonna let me take everything over even for once?! This is our body! Don't make me make it mine!"

Octo… somehow took his stance again.

“And now that fucking panther needs to die!"

“I notice you sometimes talk a lot, Max. Tom
told me that even when you don't know much about a topic, you're still able to
follow the flow of the conversation."

Max gave a small, shy smile, leaning forward
on the sofa. “I guess so, yeah. I may be confident on the outside, but
sometimes I have doubts on the inside. It's kinda like… it comes with the
package, I guess. I've been a leader since middle school… yeah, middle school.
So, I learned to get along with everyone, to keep talking with everyone to keep
the peace." He paused.

“Even though sometimes no one listens to
you?"

Max's smile turned bitter. “Yeah. It's just
social interaction, you know. Besides, I don't mind listening. Maybe that's why
I get along with so many people. They say I'm a great listener, though I don't
know if that's true or not."

The stoat smiled and wrote it down. “Why do
you think so? I mean, more like, is there a reason why you don't mind
listening?"

“Like I said before, everyone has a story to
tell, an opinion to share, so the least I can do is listen to them. If they ask
for help, I'll help. Give an advice or something as long as I can do it." The
German Shepherd took the glass of water on the table and drank from it, then
stared at it with his tail waving slowly.

The stoat noticed that he was deep in
thought, so he stayed silent to let him continue.

Max then gave a sigh. “…even though it gets
tiring sometimes. Few returned the favour."

The stoat waited for elaboration, but the dog
didn't continue. So, he changed the topic. “What do you think of Tom? As a
person, not as your partner." He asked the dog, smiling softly.

“Well, uh…" Max scratched his nape
sheepishly. The stoat noticed the nervousness at the sudden change of topic.
“He's… polite. Smart. Gentle."

He nodded to let him continue. Max's speech
style changed. He sounded like he was unsure.

“A bit closed off, but everyone also is.
Although, Tom was… um, how can I say it, he knows what he wants, from what I
can tell. Many people don't even know what they want… including me sometimes."
The dog gave a shy chuckle, then his voice sounded more confident. “Tom though,
he says what he means, and he means what he says."

The stoat nodded, writing it down. He paused
to take a sip from his water, glancing at Max in the meantime. The dog returned
to his previous mood, still rather nervous, but he was relaxed again. As much
as he disliked putting his patients in discomfort, he still had to ask this.
“Even though he killed people?"

As expected, Max went rigid, but he quickly
covered it with an awkward smile. “I mean… uh… he was hurting. He has reasons.
I knew he was hurting. I don't approve of what he does, but… he has reasons…"

“How about the people he killed?"

“They hurt him before." The dog's tone
strengthened, but it softened again. “I'm not one to believe in revenge, but…
actually, I don't know. Tom told me he doesn't believe in revenge either, so I
think he was… he was just protecting himself. In that operation, they want to…
to kill him…"

The stoat nodded.

“…so, it was either kill or be killed… he
chose the first."

The stoat nodded again. “Morally speaking,
it's still wrong, though."

“…I know, and it still brings me nightmares
even now, but I… uh… I know Tom would never do that to just anyone."

“Why is that?"

“He was hurting, and he didn't tell anyone.
Then one day, he chose to open up to me, even though I was the one to kinda
urge him to. I mean, I came to his dorm room and refused to leave." The dog
laughed nervously. “But I didn't force him. He helped me before, so I kinda
just returned the favor. I know he's hurting, so I asked him what I can do to
help. He asked me to stay…"

The stoat wrote that down.

“…so, I stayed."

This wasn't what he expected. Through the
small window in the storage room, Felipe could barely see what was happening.
The snow was falling more heavily now, obstructing the view. Gunshots fired,
alarms sounded, people screamed. He thought it would be just a quick operation,
not this.

Yet, for someone like Red Wolf, this would be
fitting; dying in a grand spectacle of last standing.

Still, he couldn't fight back the guilt
inside him. Red Wolf allowed him to live, but this was how he replied to him?
At first, he despised him for throwing him back into reality where he would be
again enslaved, but after he realised that he was starting over with his life…
this was actually what he had wanted all along. Red Wolf gave him a second
chance and he used it to start over.

“Wonder what's happening out there. The rest
of the crew are upstairs and already called the police."

The bison gulped his drink and put the glass
back on the small table, wiping his mouth. This really wasn't supposed to
happen; heck, he should've fucking learned some chivalry and do Red Wolf some
favours instead. He could have just moved to another city, but instead, he
stayed and reinvolved himself in the business by giving Richard the file.

“Just stay here for now, Felipe. I don't even
dare go back to the main room. Thankfully the windows are bulletproof, but I
ain't taking any chances."

“Yeah, think that's for the best." He gripped
his head. “Don't worry, Lex, shit happens sometimes."

“I'd say that's the case but this never
happened in Barrowisle, amigo.
Barrowisle is like the most peaceful city I've been in." Lex replied, the worry
apparent in his voice. “Not that I've been to many cities, though."

Heh, you don't
even know,
he wanted to retort. Instead, he just said, “Mhm, gimme 'nother glass."

The bull just gave a huge sigh and poured his
glass again. “C'mon, bisonte, you're
still gonna drink in this situation?"

Felipe gave a grunt. “Joder, toro."

Lex shook his head, but he also smiled
gently. “A veces olvido que también eres
español."

Felipe rolled his eyes, then downed the beer
and wiped his mouth again. Red Wolf gave him a second chance and he used it to
start over, so this was how he repaid him? He might not be a mafia group member
anymore, but he should not forget their code of conduct.

Taking his phone out, he called the emergency
number. It might not do much since he was sure people were already calling the
police anyway, but that was the least he could do.

“Barrowisle
emergency service. How can we help you?"

The bison sighed. It was time he did
something good. “I wanna report an incident in Áktelds Street in Walkirie
district. Seems dangerous there. Gunshots everywhere."

“Thank you,
sir. The police and ambulance are already on the route. Rest assured that we
will handle this. If you're at home, don't go outside and stay away from
windows. It's recommended to hide in your closet if you can." The woman over the
line replied calmingly. “Is there
anything else we can help you with?"

“No, that's all. Thank you."

“You're
welcome, sir. Stay safe."

With that, he ended the call and took the
bottle in front of him. Lex protested, but he still chugged it down. Whether he
liked it or not, he owed that bastard one.

“How do you see yourself?"

The stoat noticed the way the panther,
Octaviano, gave a heavy sigh. “I-it's complicated, I'd say." His tail waved.
“There… there's a lot… people expect a lot from me, and I must deliver."

The stoat nodded.

“I've been delivering, yet… the feedback
isn't… what I expected." Another heavy sigh. “I'm a perfectionist, I know, yet
each time people expect me to be perfect in what I do for them, I cannot help
but also expect them to be perfect in what they do for me in return. I don't
know if that's to be expected, or if that's healthy, or what."

“So, in other words, you want equal
feedback?"

“Yes, yes, that." The panther reached out for
his glass of water and drank. “Sometimes, I just wish that… people didn't
expect perfection from me all the time. It's tiring."

The stoat smiled. “Why is it tiring? From
your perspective, I mean. Perfection is good."

“Perfection is good, yes, but it's also
expensive. As in, the effort put in it. It feels like I'm not myself sometimes,
that I deliver perfection not from my own self, but rather a curated, perfected version of myself. That's why
when people expect me to be perfect, I also expect them to be perfect. But no
one is, not even me." Octaviano looked down.

The stoat nodded and wrote it down. The
panther reached for the glass of water and drank again. After a bit, he asked
the panther again. “Have you done anything to remedy that for yourself?"

“Yeah, I'm trying to go easier on myself.
Being the golden child of the family is exhausting. There are so many
responsibilities, so many people to satisfy. So many demands, yet so little
room. Even more so for pantherines. Often I just wish to go away, but I know
that would mean disappointing so many people, and not just my family members."

The panther looked at him and continued. “So,
I, uh, aim to be more open and transparent with people I trust. No more façade,
I want to present my own self. It's difficult, especially with how many things
that I really should keep to myself, but I'm trying. I can start with a small
group, then I hope to do it more."

Giving a smile, the stoat wrote it down. He
waited for more explanation, but Octaviano didn't continue. He looked like he
wanted to say more, but he held himself back. “You mentioned the people you
trust and a small group. How many people do you trust?"

“…few."

“Yes?"

“…only few." Octo took another deep breath.
“It's… I have my own circles for different types of trust. But the circle with
the… uh… that kind of trust, like I fully trust them to not use me and that our
relationship is mutual, there are only few in there… maybe seven or so people."

“Does that circle include your own self?"

The panther didn't answer. He looked down,
gave a sigh, then his tail curled on his lap. “…no." He answered, voice
breaking.

The stoat smiled sympathetically and wrote it
down. “It's okay, you can say more. You can be bare here."

Octo gave a deep breath and took a pillow,
hugging it. “I-it's like… very few people trust, and trusted me, so I trust very few people because of that. I… get few
chances to actually bond with people. It's the nature of having a rich family,
I guess. But I also don't trust myself. I… I failed to protect my brother." His
voice began breaking again. “He… he passed away at such a young age. I know
it's not my fault, but… but…"

The stoat put the notepad down.

“…it still hurts even now. We trusted each
other with our lives. I know that he's passed away already. I know it's useless
to wish for the dead to come back…" The panther began sobbing. “…so why does it
still… hurt?"

“It's normal to grieve." The stoat started
after a few moments of silence that was occasionally interrupted by the
panther's sobs. “It's normal to miss the dead, even more so when it's your
brother."

“But it's not normal to grieve for 12 years!"

“And therein lies the issue." The stoat
smiled sadly. “Why cannot you stop grieving after 12 years? I'm very sure that
your brother was an amazing brother for you to miss him until now, but I'm also
very sure that he would want for you to move on."

“I… I don't know! I don't… know…" Octo
reached for the tissue and wiped his tears. “I don't know. It feels like… after
his death, I can't find anybody else to trust the way I trusted him. Which is
fucking idiotic since we were 12 and 9 years old. But it… it just is."

“You don't have to replace him. You can save
your full trust only for him, and still leave a room for another person or
other people in your heart."

“I… know, and I…" He slumped, defeated. “I
think that's what I haven't been doing. I couldn't trust anyone." He then
smiled sadly. “Seems like I actually have trust issues. It feels like I can't
trust people because I can't trust myself to stay for them. But, I'm tired of
that. I want to trust people…"

The stoat wrote it down.

“…and I want to stay."

Was this… was this the real Tom?

The wolf in front of him was wholly different
from the gentle wolf he knew. He was grinning widely as if he enjoyed all of
this. The way he fought was unpredictable, like a wild animal. The… craziness
was nauseating, and he began to doubt that the Tom he knew was not the true
Tom.

Especially when the wolf said something about
taking over and that it was their body. Was… there someone else inside?

…what was Tom?

…or maybe more accurately, how long and how
much did his family mafia operation break him to become like this?

They stared at each other, exhaustion visible
by their open muzzles even though they had only been fighting for maybe fifteen
minutes, maybe less. As the snow fell more heavily, the voices around them
became more muddled and clearer at the same time. Blood scattered around them,
and Octo was sure most of them belonged to the wolf.

The wolf himself was in a bad condition.
Despite the wide maniacal grin, his stance was weak, and Octo could see his
foot trembling.

He finally realised it. His family had broken
the wolf so much that he was willing to take revenge even if it killed him.

…so, Octo would give him that.

For the last time, Octo took a stance,
prompting the wolf to do so, and lunged at the wolf. Only, he didn't fight as
he came close. Giving up, he allowed the wolf to hurt him, to land his dagger
in him. Blood came out of his mouth, but he could only hug the wolf close,
crying with him in his hold.

“I'm… sorry…" The panther said, blood flowing
out from his mouth.

Tom didn't answer right away, but then he
rasped softly. “Octo…" Then, he softly let go of the dagger and hugged him
back.

They stood like that under the snow for some
time, feeling the cold seep in. It made his fingers go numb as well as his
emotions. Weakly, Octo caressed Tom's fluff. He wanted to tell the wolf that he
was here, that he would protect him from everything, as he did to Giovanni all
those years ago before he failed. He wanted to tell him that he was sorry. He
wanted to tell him that he didn't want to lose him. He wanted to tell him that
he was sorry for failing.

Such was his battle symphony.

Sirens began to make themselves known a few
distances away, the sound so faint he almost missed them. He wanted to pull
away, but then he noticed that Tom was limp in his arms. A bit panicking, he
checked the wolf's heartbeat, then he felt relieved that the wolf had just
passed out. He gritted his teeth as he put the wolf down and took his bloody
uniform off, revealing his plain t-shirt. He didn't pull Tom's dagger out from
his stomach, only putting the wolf on his back and walking away towards help.

Everything is
going to be okay,
he said to himself as tears washed his cheeks and blood his chin, carrying the
wolf away with all the strength left in his body, everything is going to be okay.

“O-officer, h-here!"

He only saw brown figures against a white
background as he collapsed into the cold embrace of snow, white becoming black.

Notes:

“Bisonte." =
“Bison."

“Joder, toro."
= “Fuck off, bull."

“A veces olvido
que también eres español." = “Sometimes I forgot that you're also Spanish."