Webster tried not to chafe under Leckie's grin; it was not an easy task. Leckie grinned wider at the action, no doubt already having texted everyone the news. God, he did not want to face Muck later. Muck was fine enough depending on your mood, but a smug Muck, knowing his scheme actually WORKED…. There was not enough liquor. And God, Chuckler and Runner would just add to it all.
"Please tell me that wasn't your example of mixing business with pleasure," Leckie asked, smile not budging an inch. "Because I gots to say Web: that was fucking enough to give me a heart attack."
"I really don't have the patience for this right now, Leckie." Webster reached weakly for the ibuprofen on the counter, taking a long sip of black coffee. "I still have to stop by work."
"In that condition? You look like hell and you're not exactly walking straight," Leckie stated, doubt dripping from his tone. "I hate to break it to you but you'd just be tossed out. Porn or not, they have some standards."
"I'm putting in my two weeks," Webster said, rubbing his temples and trying to will the medicine to work faster. "I've had it; I've got enough money, I'm getting out of this business and going back to school."
Leckie paused in his taunting and actually stared, jaw dropping down slightly.
"I'm sorry, did I just hear that David Kenyon Webster, Mr. ‘I'm-Only-Sticking-With-This-Job-for-a-L
"He doesn't have anything to do with it--" Webster began, gritting his teeth. "I was--"
"Bullshit," Leckie snorted, more pleased than annoyed. "Just admit it, cabbie rocked your world."
"Hardly. You don't even know the half of it." And then Webster gave him that look and damn it Leckie had to say something because fuck it was no use guilting him like that when he simply wanted to know what was going on. "Which is a coincidence, not knowing each other."
“I thought we were over the whole Basilone thing.” Leckie threw his hands up in the air and backed away from the counter, retreating to the couch and TV. “Can’t we just drop it all? Why does it bug you that much? “
“What's Basilone's first name?" Webster, of course, followed him to the couch, grabbed the remote from his hand, and stared him down. “So I can’t keep things from you but you can from me? That’s hardly fair. We’re friends, Leckie. ”
“Yes, but not girlfriends,” Leckie half muttered, reaching for the remote. “We don’t have to share everything, Webster dearest. I know, we’re both esteemed men of intelligence, comfortable enough with ourselves to talk about our dislike and disdain for the world, but that’s just a little…too effeminate for me.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Webster frowned not relinquishing his hold. “You’re obviously keeping something big from me.”
“I could say the same thing,” Leckie muttered, feeling all of the sudden like he was the one with the hangover. "All I wanted to know was if you had fun with Liebgott last night and you turned it into a guilt trip."
Webster crossed his arms, eyebrow raised.
"For someone who could barely stand light a few minutes ago, you've recovered spectacularly," he commented and at Webster's ensuing glare, he simply shrugged, grabbing the remote, and turned it onto Shark Week. "If I tell you, you have to tell me what happened last night and why suddenly you and Liebgott cost me thirty bucks, which Skinny will probably thank you for later, just letting you know."
"I can't believe you actually tried to make a profit off of me." Webster looked more surprised than offended. "And I can't believe they named us 'Operation Jaws'."
"I can," Leckie added quickly before the ominous approaching shark attack tune emitted itself from the TV. H sighed deeply. "You have to keep the judgmental looks and scathing comments to a minimum. Don't even start."
Webster opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. He instead just motioned with his hand. "Fine."
Leckie gave him a skeptical look but reclined back into the couch, avoiding his gaze: "I was his closet boyfriend. Back when I was in college and before he transferred to the marines from the army. He was my first boyfriend, and I'm sure I was his. We went out for about two years before I called it off."
"And?" Webster pressed eagerly, as if expecting some great and horrible revelation. "What happened?"
"He transferred to the marines and I got tired of being his dirty little secret," Leckie replied with a slight frown. "No one knew we were even seeing each other besides our friends. He was a good guy but hell I wasn't going to be his booty call. We had a fight and he went overseas, ended up almost killing himself, and got some fancy award. We cut off all ties and just let it go. It's still pretty fucking embarrassing, thinking about it."
"...So you're not mad?" Webster prompted, leaning back and thinking. "You just decided to ignore each other?"
"I'm more mad at the principle of the thing than I am at him," Leckie admitted with a shrug. "We didn't have much in common but I was stubborn and liked him too much to notice it at the time. Even now, I just want a damn apology."
"So, you were so enamored with this guy that you didn't mind that he was ashamed of you?" Leckie winced at his word choice and made sure to give Webster a scathing glare. "Sorry, I mean, you both were so enamored with each other but he didn't like dating men?"
"Not much better," Leckie commented with an eye roll, "But that's pretty much what happened. I just noticed it one day when I realized I knew only the names of his brothers and not the faces and I probably never was going to know."
There was a moment of silence. Leckie braced himself for the inevitable commentary he was going to give on the matter.
"I'm sorry." Leckie raised a brow--that was not what he was expecting.
"Come again?" He was still half-expecting something condescending to be muttered.
"That you went through that. It's not a great experience, is it?" Webster said sympathetically before looking at him somewhat bemused. "We've all been through something like that, I don't know why you had to hide it from me if it was something like that."
"Can you blame me? I know you. You're a bit on the judgmental side," Leckie answered back, still dubious at the reaction. "I was expecting you to be chastising me on my childhood naiveté."
"You just said you were in college, that's hardly childhood," Webster smirked slightly. "I may be judgmental but you are my friend and I am a fellow male who has dated men before. It's not a long shot to say that the same thing's happened to me."
Leckie tried to shove him off the couch. Who knew Webster was actually going to be understanding about the whole thing? Surely not him.
"Well now you know," Leckie interrupted, throwing his hands in the air before moving them to clasp onto Webster's shoulders. "And, dear Kenyon, you must enlighten me the mystery of last night's events."
Webster actually looked embarrassed, as if he had been the one with the secret relationship.
"It's not what you're thinking," Webster mused, ears slightly pink. "I know what this looks like and it isn't that."
"If you know how it looks then why not just tell me what happened because I'm still convinced this is one of my more lucid nightmares," Leckie remarked, elbowing him. "It's up to you to prove me wrong."
Webster rubbed his chin, fingers twitching for something to occupy them--a well-known tic that meant he was trying to sort out what he wanted to say.
"Well, Liebg--Joe, he's a friend of Skinny's." Leckie had the decency to keep his face inquisitive and not comment on the name change. "And apparently Skinny'd told him about me. Well about us, actually. He'd read some of your articles and seen some of my work." Leckie's mouth twitched upward. Webster soldiered on. "We were all supposed to meet under better circumstances. Skinny was supposed to introduce us sometime but before that happened, we had the accident."
That made sense. No wonder Skinny had resorted to choking when he'd heard Leckie say Liebgott's name. He must've called it off when the car accident happened, not realizing till then that they were on opposing sides of it. He had probably just chucked it up to crazy coincidence that all of them had gotten into accidents. It was a big enough city. It could've happened.
"Liebgott apparently figured it out when we exchanged insurances that I was whom Skinny had mentioned earlier." Webster paused ruefully. "But we'd already almost gotten into a fist fight while you were getting the high score on Doodle jump on your phone." If there was an accusing glance sent his way, Leckie gracefully ignored it. "Things just snowballed to a point where fighting just kind of became how we communicate."
"And apparently one night without me, and a bar, was enough to undo all that?" Webster most certainly gave his best "we are not amused" face. Lips pursed, Leckie just blinked at him, blankly.
"One night of knowing my friends had set me up with someone I was convinced was a psychopath and having my best friend hiding things from me impaired my judgment, but it isn't the reason he was here this morning," Webster stated flatly, clucking his tongue in disapproval. "You know how I get around too much liquor--"
"--Idiotic. I half expected him to just leave me at the mercy of the payphone and, no doubt, either yours or Skinny's amusement," Webster deadpanned, eyes narrowing. "Yet he had the decency to stay with me and sober me up. We stayed at a diner until I was able enough to walk and function on my own; we got to talking and it made sense. A lot of things were just bad judgments on both our parts."
Leckie couldn't have snorted louder if he tried. "Imagine that."
"He's only doing the taxi-cab job because it's what he's used to. I'm only doing porn because it puts a roof over my head. None of us care about this lawsuit. I know they reached a settlement anyways. And what am I waiting for? I've been penning things for years but none of it I'm particularly proud of. I might as well cut my losses and just quit."
It was a noble statement; Leckie half wondered if Liebgott had some kind of miraculous properties he had no idea of.
"So you got life advice from someone you're currently in a law suit with and then you slept with him?" Leckie finished, confusion and amusement both equally present. "Forgive me if I'm lost."
"He kissed me--I was complaining in the car about something and he just reached over and kissed me," Webster admitted, sounding more awed at the recollection. "He told me, he'd been wanting to for a while. Then we got here and--"
"--Please don't tell me anymore," Leckie insisted. He wasn't sure he wanted the image just yet, "just assure me that there was no hot loving on the couch. I eat off this couch. Our friends eat off this couch. This has been emasculating enough already. Let's not add disgust here."
"Your couch's chastity is safe," Webster retorted, going pink again. "I don't need a reason for this, do I? I think I'm allowed to be spontaneous once in a while. I have hooked up before. I'm not some kind of frigid idealist just because I have standards."
"Fine, fine, you're an adult, you wear big boy pants," Leckie agreed, rolling back his shoulders and getting up from the couch to turn off the TV out of habit. He glanced back at him. "The question is, Web: are you alright with all of this? It's a big step you've decided to take in a very, very short amount of time."
"I think I can handle it," Webster answered, rising up and taking Leckie’s offered hand. There was distinct determination in his voice that Leckie hadn't heard in a long while. "If I can handle all of this, taking a few courses at the local university shouldn't be so hard."
"Whoa there, wouldn't the local university be a down grade?" Leckie ribbed walking past to grab his phone off the kitchen counter. "However will it compare to Harvard's ivied walls?"
"Education's an education; isn't that what you taught me?" Webster replied, not missing a beat. "Besides, if it turns out people like you, I have my work cut out for me. You coming?"
"You mean, am I driving? Sure, why not?" Leckie grabbed his phone off the counter while Webster got the keys. He scrolled through his messages idly while Webster rummaged for some decent clothes.
Leckie had a harboring suspicion he was never going to win the bet in the first place and that all Skinny would be needing was confirmation from his end.
He heard more than saw Webster answering his own phone, the tone in his voice rising sharply. "You usually ask someone's permission for dinner. You don't just force it on them."
Leckie paused and thought about it. Hoosier had been right. It was starting to be a common pattern, Hoosier being right. After all, he was the first one to figure out Leckie and Basilone were dating back then. Had frowned around his cigarette, patted him on the shoulder, and told him it was a bad idea. Hoosier had known Basilone longer than Leckie back then but after the whole messy break up he'd shown up at Leckie's doorstep with a pack of smokes in his pocket and a six pack in his hand. Never mentioned JP or Basilone since. Just handed him beer after beer, smoking quietly next to him.
"Are you even listening to me?" Webster's voice echoed from his room. Leckie dutifully texted Skinny that he'd lost and that 'Operation Jaws' had actually worked. He reclined against the counter and picked at a bowl of grapes near the sink. His screen blinked, and he opened it to find the message: "Take Hoosier out for drinks and we're even."
He didn't think to question why Skinny wasn't joining or why he was taking Hoosier out. He simply finished eating his grape, dusted his hands on his jeans, and texted back, "I'll be around at eight."
Leckie figured that he was getting off lightly. There were worse ways to spend an evening.
"FINE, BE HERE BY SEVEN!" he heard Webster roar.
At least he'd be out of the house.
Fate did indeed want to show him worse ways to spend the evening, apparently.
Leckie didn't mind that Liebgott and Webster had both shown up. In fact, he and Hoosier finally got to see the relationship up close. It was both amusing and slightly disturbing how they could go from slightly agreeable to arguing within the span of a few minutes. Hoosier made full use of Leckie's deal, knocking back beers easily, leaning against the counter to watch the other bar patrons. Webster's friends, Muck and Malark, had appeared, bringing Runner and Chuckler with them and all four were currently trying to out-cheat each other in pool. Leckie just watched with a raised brow. Skinny would've had them all under the table if he'd been around.
"So," Hoosier finished off his third bottle of whatever the bartender had given him and lit up a cigarette. "I take it you told Webster?"
"That obvious?" Leckie took a sip from his own tumbler, leaning next to him, their elbows brushing. "Besides him not sending an accusing look over here every five seconds."
"The fact he's not harassing you, yes." He gestured to where Liebgott and Webster were civilly discussing baseball. "The sudden space he's given you was what mostly clued me in."
"You were right, you know," Leckie admitted, placing his drink down and he resumed watching Skip trying to literally blow the eight ball closer to the nearest pocket without being obvious. "He took it a lot better than I thought he would. He even said the same thing happened to him. Can you believe that?"
"Easily. Web's pretty naive when you get past all his ranting," Hoosier observed, taking a long drag. "Shit like that happens, you get over it."
"I am over it." Leckie found his tone a little more insisting than it needed to be. "I just want a god damned apology."
"So you're telling me if John Basilone walked into this bar, all you'd ask for is an apology?" Hoosier quirked a brow but didn't comment. "Nothing else?"
"Nothing else. I've been done with him," Leckie assured, hands itching for a cigarette. "He could come in right now and--"
The supposedly-forgotten tone and register came back to Leckie full-force in a cruel fit of irony. Lady Luck was a bitch. Fuck…Leckie turned his head to the far left to peer over his shoulder and sure-as-shit, he could see Basilone a few feet back, hand raised as if about to order something. If Leckie looked hard enough behind him he could see JP and Perconte preoccupied by the big screen sports. Leckie felt his jaw tighten.
"Basilone," he returned cordially. He ignored the fact that his friends had ceased their game of pool and were watching, or that Webster had risen from his seat, unsure if he should make his way over or not. "No matching girlfriend today?"
Hoosier took another patient drag from his cigarette, not commenting on the scene unfolding before him. Even without it, Leckie knew he wasn’t exactly thrilled either.
“She’s my fiancée,” Basilone informed. Even under the poor lamp lighting, Leckie could see he was trying to be diplomatic. Leckie felt his teeth gnashing.
He was over Basilone. He was over what happened. He just wanted an apology for being treated like a dirty magazine in a teenager's room. What was it about seeing his ex face-to-face that just dispelled all that within seconds?
Basilone looked no better. His jaw was equally as tight and his body just as rigid, feeling the pressure and probably the guilt. Of course, even with all that he did he would feel bad about what happened.
Leckie was never much one for grudges but for some reason, presented with this, it gnawed at him. He couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't going to come out equally cynical or spiteful, no matter how he tried.
"Congrats," he remarked, trying to push some sincerity in the statement, however little. "Your parents must be ecstatic."
Hoosier coughed indiscriminately next to him. Muck let out a whistle and was about to add some commentary had Malarkey had not shushed him. Basilone didn't even seem to notice them.
"Thanks." He seemed apprehensive, as if he wasn't sure where the conversation was going, still on edge. With a quick glance around and a clearing of his throat Basilone requested, "Mind stepping outside, for a second? We need to talk."
Leckie ignored the sounds of protests behind him, and some internal ones. Instead, he put his drink down on the counter, made sure to at least give Webster and Hoosier looks of assurance, then he followed Basilone out the door to the parking lot.
"This feels like old times." Leckie didn't even realize the phrase came from him until it was too late. He swallowed dryly and sat on the plastic bench in front of the bar.
Basilone just crossed his arms and remained standing in his field of view. Leckie noticed he was tugging down his sleeve. Attention to detail was something Leckie had always liked about Basilone--neat and orderly.
He was in the rare civilian clothes. Leckie vaguely recognized the shirt from years ago, a nice navy polo. It looked snug, like Basilone had gained some muscle. Leckie found, oddly enough, that it wasn't as attractive as he used to believe. Basilone's face drew up in concentration. A car alarm went off behind them and Leckie noticed him jump. It clicked off just as suddenly. He watched as the other relaxed slightly. Must've been one hell of a time over seas.
"You know what I used to tell people?" Leckie started, not knowing where he was going. He was starting to pick up on Web's habits, thinking with his mouth. He just needed to say something that wasn't caustic. "That the whole sex, drugs, and rock n' roll of dating was our relationship. Just minus the music and the drugs."
Basilone regarded him, lips slanting up slightly.
"It did have its moments, didn't it?" he offered, hesitant and waiting. Leckie found himself going along with it. Why the fuck not?
His lips quirked. "You could call it that. I also remember the non-sexy, like meeting that damn Leyden kid. Brat always kicked me."
Basilone chuckled at that, grin making it to his face. "He's bigger now--still kicks and screams down the street, though."
"I'll have to take your word for it." He reclined against the bench, not minding that it was digging into Webster's pilfered sweater. He cocked his head, contemplative. Basilone gave him a sympathetic glance.
"I know this means shit to you now but I did feel bad for how it ended and I still do. I was a coward." And there, he’d almost said it; Leckie was so close to finally get over this one snag that had suddenly embedded itself into his life without warning. Basilone continued on. "When I was over there, it didn't matter what the brass sent me to do. I did it without complaining. I wasn't like the other guys, I wasn't afraid of the combat. I didn't have someone waiting for me. I finally I got shot during a recon mission but I kept going--all I remember thinking was that once I got out, I had to go back and apologize."
For some reason that made Leckie straighten. Ok, he had taken it badly, sure. But he hadn't expected Basilone to be that driven to make it up to him.
"Hoosier wrote me," Basilone said slowly, like he was admitting something he shouldn't. "He told me about you."
Leckie grimaced at that, "Great, so you got monthly report cards on me--"
"The letters stopped," Basilone interrupted, brow raised. "He stopped writing after I got shot. The last letter I got was that you were graduating and not to bother finding you anymore. I wanted to write back asking why but he was right. There was no need for it. After he stopped writing I eventually got better, transferred to another base, and met Lena."
There was something profound about the way he said her name that Leckie did feel some guilt for his earlier remarks. Leckie still made a mental note to confront Hoosier about the letters later.
"I'm sorry for what I've done and I'm sorry I didn't find you and apologize but…." His lips quirked upward. "Did you even notice until we ran into each other?"
Point. Basilone had been limited to his memories of college life and all that came with it. The only reminder had been when he'd been depressed or drunk enough to remember their break up.
"I did want to collect on the apology you offered up," Leckie replied, leaning forward on the bench. "But you're right," Leckie gestured to the bar behind him. "I have moved on, for the most part. The apology helps, though."
"It was worth it. Scorned doesn't suit you," Basilone commented with a laugh. "Being a smartass is another story."
"You mock out of envy," Leckie retorted but his tone was hardly offended. Basilone shook his head then paused when he saw the bar windows, he made a face.
"You know your friends are pressed up to the glass trying to listen in, right?"
Things were actually going well for Leyden.
Dating Jay wasn't nearly as awkward as he thought it was going to be. Jay was accommodating and didn't announce their love affair to the world or hell, show up at Leyden's doorstep with roses or some shit like that. Mostly their dating was just hanging out. Sometimes they'd go out to eat but it was never anything too embarrassing. Jay didn't push him into anything he wasn't ready for (he still only had the vaguest idea of how guys did stuff and only then it was mostly from insults and, well, Babe, who like hell he was ever going to give the smug satisfaction too) and the time he did kiss him, he didn't try to eat Leyden's lips off his face or jam his tongue in at weird angles like girlfriends past had. It was still a weird feeling but it hadn't been unpleasant. He wouldn't have minded if it happened again.
Which brought him to today. Jay was helping him with his calculus homework in exchange for lunch. He'd caught Jay smiling at him again and ok, fine, maybe he thought it was kind of cute but he elbowed him anyways, causing him to sway slightly.
"What? I was just looking at you," Jay laughed, righting himself and breezily walking past the other students into the cafeteria and making sure to hold the door open for him. "Is there something wrong with doing that?"
"Yeah," Leyden tried to protest, though he wasn't sure what to give as an excuse. He wasn't nearly as graceful as Jay and he may or may not have bumped into a few people going in. "You could walk into someone if you ain't payin' attention."
"This may be hard to believe, but I'm pretty sure I can handle walking and glancing at you at the same time," Jay smirked, eying up the different foods the cafeteria offered. "Want knock-off brand pizza?"
"High-school was four years ago, so no." Leyden stopped when he noticed Sledge and Snafu shuffle in, both lost in their own thoughts and distant. "Snafu! Sledge!"
The two halted, Sledge's arms weighed down by two textbooks that put together looked bigger than his head, and Snafu fiddling with his phone. Leyden ran up, pushing past the crowd knowing without even having to check that Jay was right behind him.
"Haven't seen you two in forever," Leyden observed in greeting. "It's not even fucking finals yet, either--where have you all been?"
"I've been busy with a few early mid-terms," Sledge grunted, shifting the weight in his arms and next to him Snafu remained still. "I had a few reports to write up for lab too."
"Some of us work and go to school," was all Snafu added, though it lacked any real bite. He just mumbled plainly, “Shit happens."
"Snafu, your boss closes the clinic when he's got a bad hangover," Jay reminded, settling next to Leyden. "That's not even an excuse."
Snafu just rolled his shoulder to adjust his messenger bag. He seemed more distracted than usual but didn't give a reply. Leyden actually considered that maybe Snafu was still feeling the need for some space because of the confession and yet Snafu hadn't been actively avoiding him. It dawned on him quickly that hey--Sledge and Snafu were awfully distant, weren't they.
"I'm going to grab some food real fast. I'll see you guys at the dorms." Jay must've noticed too. He gave Leyden a pat on the shoulder, but Leyden tugged at his arm before he could leave, "I'm getting us fake-Chinese, don't worry."
"I thought lunch was on me," Leyden disputed but Jay just waved him off. "Hey, listen, God damn it!"
"You get dinner!" Jay called out before disappearing into the mass of students in front of them. Leyden tried to ignore that Sledge and Snafu were now focusing on him.
"Are you and Jay...?" Sledge sounded a bit too curious for just the sake of knowing and Leyden had to pause at that. Snafu chose at that moment to make his leave, walking away without saying a single word to any of them. Sledge followed him with his gaze but didn't say anything. He just turned back to Leyden, expectant.
"Kinda," Leyden confessed, not focusing on how maybe he sounded affectionate. He hesitated, watching Sledge for a reaction. "Why? Is something wrong?"
Sledge moved his textbooks a little more to his left, shifting his feet slightly.
"I, uh, heard you and Snafu the other day," he conceded, and fuck, fuck, fuck--Leyden knew he was probably turning red. "I thought you and Snafu were--"
"--Like hell we are," Leyden finished quickly, eyes wide and mouth running. "Jesus, Eugene, it was a stupid idea. He wouldn't have been interested in the first place ‘cause he's too hung up over you to even not--"
It hit Leyden just then that maybe he'd said too much when Sledge gave him the weirdest look and he quickly shut his mouth.
"He's what?" Sledge demanded, stock-still. "Are you suggesting that Snafu likes me?"
In his defense, Leyden was valiantly trying to find another way to spin the phrase around so that it wasn't him finally opening Sledge's eyes to what everyone else but him could see.
"I meant, like, as in, you know, he uh…." He pulled a blank and concluded, slightly defeated, "Really likes you?"
"For how long?" Sledge pressed onward. Leyden could see in the florescent lighting that he was going to have to go back to the room and think it all over. Right now he needed the truth first. "Has he always felt that way? Why didn't he just tell me?"
It was probably a bad time to notice that when Sledge was upset, his accent tended to come out. Leyden would have to mention it to Jay later when he wasn't being interrogated. It would've been funny on any other occasion.
"Since you moved here." Snafu was going to kill him later. Was going to stab with the damn blackberry he was always playing with. "Why do you think he's so nice to you? You're the only one that puts up with all his shit."
Sledge backed away, considering, and grew silent. Leyden had a paranoid feeling that Snafu was sitting somewhere nearby and plotting his demise; that he'd turn to the left and find him glowering, ready to use his phone as a shank.
"Eugene, just forget it alright? He's not going to do anything." Leyden promptly attempted damage control. "You just mean a lot to him and he's a good guy for all his...being him. He doesn't--"
"—Thanks, Bill," Sledge settled his books once more, deep in thought and lost to the world. "I won't mention that it was you who told me."
"Wait, you're not really going to talk to him about it, are you?" Leyden did take a paranoid glance to the left, relieved to see no one there. "Eugene, let it—"
"—I can't ignore it and pretend I don't know. That's not fair to any of us, now is it?" Sledge was out of the cafeteria before Leyden could think of a response.
Leyden stood rooted to his spot with the horrifying realization that he may have just singlehandedly sent the one person Snafu actually gave a damn about against him.
"You ok?" Jay's timing was impeccable. He purposefully bumped his knee against his. Leyden could smell the food from the tray in his hands. "Leyden, you alright?"
Leyden didn't move. He only muttered, still staring at where Sledge had been standing, "I think I just fucked over Snafu and he's going to KILL me."