princekiller | it was going to be a beautiful day

Entry tags:

dutch,
matthias

it was going to be a beautiful day

Afterward, Damen found his way back to the tent, weaving and swaying with his pants held up with one hand. Laurent stirred from beneath his furs, laughing as the ground beneath Damen swayed and lurched. 'Stop,' he warned, walking on unsteady legs toward his own pile of furs. 'If you laugh, I'll follow over.'

And he did just that, collapsing into the pile with a grin and closing his eyes. His muscles were still thrumming pleasantly, mind fuzzy from the drink and activity. 'Halvik had a lot of girls,' he said, exhausted and utterly sated.

'Stop laughing,' he said when he heard another snicker, glancing over to see Laurent with his head propped one on hand.

'This is instructive. I've seen you put half a dozen men in the dirt without breaking a sweat.'

'Not right now, I couldn't,' Damen said. The low ceiling of the tent began to swim and Damen closed his eyes again.

'I can see that,' said Laurent. 'You're relieved of your regular duties in the morning.'

'That's nice of you. I can't get up. I'll just lie here. Or did you need something?'

'Oh, how did you know? Take me to bed.'

Despite himself, Damen laughed, a low thing halfway stuck behind a groan. Rolling onto his side, he pulled the furs up over his head and sleep swiftly dragged under.

If he dreamt, he did not remember it. He woke slowly. Peacefully. The furs beneath him were unbelievably comfortable and the drink he had been given the night before, he was pleased to note, had not left him with an throbbing head.

Taking a deep breath, Damen rolled to his side and stretched his legs as the morning sun peeked through the front fold of the tent.

Damen blinked his eyes open, but his mind could not making any sense of what he was seeing.

The body was not Laurent's. Nor was it Kashel's, nor any of the other women he could remember exhausting him. And there were no furs.

Fear gripped him and held tight and Damen scrambled from the bed, his feet landing on the soft fabric of a rug. Only when Damen looked down, he noted that the rug extended to every corner of the room and that these corners connected walls the likes of which he had ever seen before.

The body in the bed was a man, as broad and tall as Damen but blond like Laurent. He looked like a warrior. Like a soldier.

'Where have you taken him?' he demanded in Veretian, shoulders hunched, unlaced pants barely clinging to his hips. He had no weapon but his own brute strength, but he was prepared to fight.

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Matthias hadn't slept so well in years. He'd woken up once in the middle of the night, jolted from sleep by a nightmare, but the sight of Dutch sleeping beside him was enough to calm his nerves. He'd curled back up against her soft, warm body and slipped right back under.

But now he's awoken suddenly for a second time, not from a nightmare, but from a stranger. A year in Hellgate had made him a light sleeper, and it had taught him to be alert, not bleary-eyed or sleep-muddled, and so he sat up, jaw clenched and body tense, ready to fight.

The man in Dutch's bedroom is as much a giant as he is, looming and muscled. He's half-dressed like he's spent the night here with the two of them, but that's impossible. Matthias is confused, but despite the man's stature, he is unafraid.

"I don't speak that. Who are you?" he growls, standing at full height, hands curled into fists.

The man stood, clearly defined muscles shifting and tensing, as ready to fight as Damen himself.

When he spoke, it was neither Veretian nor Akielon. Not even Patran. Yet it was a langauge Damen found himself understanding nonetheless though did not know how or why. He frowned, growing further unsettled with each passing breath.

'You are not Veretian,' he said this time in the strange new language, letting the words fall from his tongue. Despite Damen's tone, it was less statement than question.

"I have never heard of that. Veretian," Matthias says, trying the word out. He stares at the man, watching his every move. He realizes, also, that Dutch is no longer in bed, and his jaw clenches.

"Have you done something to Dutch?" he asks in a hard voice, stepping forward. They are alike in height and build, so for once Matthias can't use his size to intimidate and must instead use his cold eyes and the rough bite of his guttural, learned Kerch.

If not for the strange language and the lack of a Veretian accent on the man's tongue, Damen would be inclined to think him lying. And he may yet be. Damen had learned well already not to underestimate the depth of Veretian deception.

However, there was something deeply sincere in the question that followed, the man stepping forward, his tone sharp.

Damen stepped back, though his body remained poised, ready for the attack. 'Is a Dutch a person?' he asked, a shot in the dark. Then posed one of his own, the first in an ever-growing list. 'How have you not heard of Vere?'

"No. Is Vere a person?" Matthias asks in response, though he doesn't care. He's never met this person, or been to whatever place the man speaks of. He starts to feel untethered, wondering where the hell Dutch is.

"Dutch is a woman. She was in this bed with me, and now she's gone. What did you do with her?" he asks, the question more a demand than anything else. Dutch is strong, a warrior in her own right, but she would have been vulnerable if she was sleeping. How could he have slept through an abduction? He's getting too soft in this place.

Though he moved no closer, the man remained a threat, his tone harsh and aggressive. But the more he spoke, the more Damen could understand him even if he could not understand or explain his presence here.

He raised a single hand then, palm out, placation and surrender both.

'I'm sorry, I do not know this Dutch,' he explained. 'I was in a Vaskian village last night. I went to sleep in a tent with--' Here he cut himself off, not wishing to reveal too much. 'I will not ask you to believe me as I'm having some difficulty believing any of this myself. Can you tell me where I am?'

Matthias goes still. He knows people show up in random places throughout the city, but he never considered someone showing up on ones bed. And where, then, is Dutch? Has this brute replaced her? Matthias has heard that people disappear just as they leave, is that what's happened here?

He rubs the short hair of his skull to keep from punching the man, knowing it isn't his fault.

"You really didn't see a woman?"

There are voices coming from the bedroom. For a second, Dutch stands just outside her door, listening. She'd thought Matthias was talking to himself or talking in his sleep but there's a distinctive second voice in there and Dutch --

She has to see what's going on. With a smirk on her face (because it's so easy to hide any fear behind that), she pads into the bedroom and stops short at seeing Matthias and another man standing around her bed. This would be the things dream would be made of if it wasn't so strange.

"Well, this is...unexpected," she says, looking from Matthias to the stranger. "Matthias, did you get tired of me already?"

Edited 2016-05-19 20:26 (UTC)

'No, as I said, I went to sleep in a tent and when I awoke, I was here. I've seen no one since last night.' It was Laurent's face he had seen last, those bright eyes, amused in the dim light.

He was unaware of the woman's presence until she spoke, her voice coming from beyond his shoulder. He turned to look, though he kept this Matthias in his periphery, muscles alert.

'You're Dutch,' he said, taking in the sight of her quickly. This then, was the woman this man was so worried for though she did seem remarkably at ease with Damen's presence. They both wore clothing unlike anything Damen had ever seen before. 'And you're Matthias. Will either of you please tell me where I am.'

"No," Matthias insists through the rush of relief that Dutch is still here. And, from the look of her, whole and safe and...she'd probably just been using the bathroom or watching TV. Heat warms Matthias' face to have jumped to such a dramatic conclusion, to have worried so much.

"He is-- he was in your bed, I think," Matthias explains, motioning to the mountain of a man in front of him. He is not only unfairly larger than Matthias, but also better looking. And in far less clothes. Matthias' eyes narrow a little and he moves to stand by Dutch, and also a little bit in front of her.

"I am Dutch," she confirms with a nod, "and hopefully whatever you've heard about me is good."

She slants Matthias a look at his protectiveness but doesn't try to shove him aside. He can be protective even if Dutch thinks she's figured out what's happened already.

"You're in Darrow," she fills in since Matthias hadn't answered that particular question. "It's a city that's probably not on any maps and you can't leave. It's the world most luxurious prison. I didn't take you. Matthias didn't take you. We got here just like you."

'I have heard nothing but your name,' Damen replied though that information seemed hardly relevant as she continued.

A city not found on any maps, a city with some apparent fortified wall that Damen was sure he would need to see for himself. He couldn't begin to guess whether this strange city was being protected or, if it was as she claimed, simply a very large prison.

But why had Damen found himself here? Why did he know this language he was sure he'd never heard before? What was this clothing they wore, these trinkets that decorated the room? What was any of this?

He shook his head. There was no sense to any of it.

'If this is as you claim, if I am to believe you,' he said, glancing from the woman to the man and back again, 'how are you so calm?'

Perhaps, he thought, they had grown accustomed to their bonds in a way Damen had not with his own. Though he hardly registered their physical weight on him any longer, the gold collar and cuffs were a mark on him he could not shake. Temporary, yes, but unavoidable. Was this similar?

"Because we have been here for a long time," Matthias supplies. If they had just shown up they would be just as confused and possibly scared. When he had first gotten here Matthias remembers how an anxious pit had formed in his stomach that hadn't left for days.

He tries to remember that now that whoever this man is he is probably scared. The question is, how dangerous is he? Just because he is new and out of his element doesn't mean he can be trusted.

"I have been here almost three months, and Dutch even longer. Do you have magic in your world? That's what this place is," he tries to explain.

"This also isn't the first time a man's just appeared in my apartment either," Dutch tells him with a shake of her head. Elijah had arrived with more trash and an amusing attitude whereas this man seems to be cautious and wary.

"But yes, I've been here awhile and I've tried just about anything to leave." She shrugs. "I'm still here. Neither of us are here to hurt you."

She smacks Matthias in the arm just to make sure he knows that that's not allowed, not right now. "I'm sure you're confused. I wish I could say that goes away quickly but it doesn't."

'Magic,' Damen said, the disbelief he felt clearly evident in his tone. 'I'm to believe this is simply some trick, some sleight-of-hand?'

No, that was well beyond Damen's ability. He was more likely to believe a lie from Laurent's tongue than in any sort of magic. But he found he couldn't otherwise explain his circumstances other than to assume he must be dreaming. But he'd never had a dream like this one, full of strange faces and words, items and clothing.

'If you are not from here, then where?' he asked. 'And what is this language we're speaking?'

"What?" Matthias asks in aside to Dutch, as that's news to him. Though she's clearly come away from the experience unscathed, this isn't a comforting trend.

Matthias crosses his arms from the smack, petulant that she would allow him to look weak in any way in front of this stranger.

"There is no real explanation," he says, and glances to Dutch for clarification. So far he's never met anyone who's had a clear logical explanation.

"Oh, he was not interested in me so calm down," Dutch says, glancing towards Matthias. "He would have been much happier if you were here to greet him when you woke up. Much, much happier."

Elijah had been interesting and amusing but Dutch wasn't dumb. She knew when she wasn't wanted because the other person just didn't go for her gender. Too bad. He'd been pretty cute.

"And don't pout," she adds after a moment. She glances back at the new arrival. "There's new real explanation, he's right. We're speaking English right now but I know other languages are spoken here. This is just what the majority of people speak. What's your name? Have we gotten that far in introductions yet?"

As with everything else, English was not a language Damen recognized by name and the words, even as they left his lips unimpeded, felt awkward and cumbersome. But if there were other languages here, perhaps Damen wasn't entirely alonen.

He hesitated at the question, weeks spent among Veretians giving him pause to consider every motive even in something so simple as introductions. This didn't seem like any plot even a Veretian could conceive however and he found himself lowering his arms, though his muscles remained tense and wary.

'My name is Damen,' he said, electing to keep his full identity quiet. If this truly was a secluded city, separate from all others, his name and place would make little difference, but Damen was unsure yet what to believe. 'I am Akielon. And you two? Is every person in this city from elsewhere?'

Matthias had been more concerned about his safety, though if he'd had a moment to think further he probably would have been concerned about that, too, so he blushes a little. He shouldn't let himself get jealous, but Dutch is gorgeous. He can't help it.

"Hmph," he says quietly.

And so bossy.

"I'm Matthias Helvar," he says to Damen, eyes still narrowed a touch in suspicion. "I'm from a country called Fjerda, and I speak that language as well. Not everyone in this world is from elsewhere, some have lived here their whole lives."

"And we've already established that I'm Dutch and I'm from another set of planets that I doubt you've heard of because you look like another that hasn't mastered flight yet."

Dutch grins over at Matthias and pats his shoulder. "That's something you and Matthias can bond over."

It's just so easy to tease him but she keeps her hand on his shoulder and strokes idly. "I've never heard of where you come from, Damen, but I'm not surprised. Are you injured at all? Hurt? Need some water? Booze?"

Damen frowned as they each answered, more confused by the second. 'Planets?' he heard himself say. 'And flight? Do you mean like birds?' He looked to Matthias as Dutch patted the man's shoulder as though he might better explain how any of this could be possible. Her hand remained on Matthias's shoulder, a quietly intimate gesture, her tone still calm as she regarded Damen once more.

'I am not injured,' he said, rubbing a hand against his temple as he, once again, recalled the events of the night before. If he had any further wounds, they were only the delighted scratches of Halvik's women. 'What is this booze?'

"Don't even ask, it's like a fairy tale." Matthias relaxes some under Dutch's touch, like a subdued wolf. Besides, he has a feeling that if Damen wanted to attack he'd have done is already.

He groans. "She has all kinds." He's speaking of the booze, of course. It isn't his expertise, so he leaves that to Dutch. Her generosity rubs off on him, though, because in the next moment he adds, "Would you like a shirt? I can run downstairs and get you one of mine." They are nearly the same size. The same height at least, though Damen is bulkier. He should have something large and loose enough.

"It's alcohol and I am going to be so so sad if that's something you don't have in whatever town you came from," Dutch says, smirking. "You are missing out my tall, dark and handsome friend."

She crosses her arms and gives Damen a look before glancing over at Matthias. "Maybe one of us should take him to get the creepy packet of information. I doubt he wants to spend much longer sitting in my apartment while you glare at him."

Matthias visibly relaxed under Dutch's touch and at his offer of a shirt, Damen raised an eyebrow. There were no laces on the shirt Dutch wore and Damen had a feeling that whatever Matthias offered wouldn't as well. Neither of them appeared dressed anything like an Akielon and he glanced down at himself, noticing the way his pants were perilously close to slipping off entirely.

He lifted the fabric, tugging at the laces enough to keep the garment in place.

'We have alcohol,' he said at Dutch's explanation. 'Various types, but none called booze. And why would I want a creepy packet? What is a creepy packet?

"I'm not glaring," Matthias says, petulant once more. Especially after she's called him handsome. He is handsome, far more than most of the men Matthias has seen in his world and this one, and it isn't fair.

"A creepy packet is what Darrow gives you so you won't show up here homeless," he tries to explain to tall, dark and handsome. "It has money and keys to your apartment."

He looks back to Dutch. "We could both go? I can take Damen with me to get a shirt, and...shoes, looks like. And get changed myself, and we can meet you downstairs?" he suggests. He knows he could simply take Damen himself, but he isn't sure he's ready to leave Dutch after he stayed over. He imagined they'd at least share breakfast together.

Dutch nods. The creepy packet is definitely something Damen's going to need to have explained because it's a bunch of shit that he's probably never seen before. She doesn't know much about him, isn't sure if he's dangerous but she's pretty sure she can take him if he decides to get aggressive.

"That sounds like a good enough plan," Dutch says, nodding. "Behave when you're alone with him. He's new and there's nothing between us no matter if he woke up in my bed or not."

It's a joke and she laughs, patting his shoulder again. "This okay with you?" Dutch asks, directing the question to Damen.

'Keys?' Damen asked, looking from Dutch to Matthias. 'To what?'

He wasn't certain how he felt going anywhere alone with Matthias but, though he was clearly well-muscled and possibly trained as a fighter himself, Damen had no doubt he could take Matthias should he need to. And the promise of both more clothing and, more importantly, shoes was compelling.

'I'm not sure what else I would do,' Damen admitted with a frown. 'Will you show me this wall? The one keeping us here.'

"I'm not jealous, I just liked being the biggest guy in the building," Matthias teases back, and kisses Dutch quickly on mouth in parting. She likes to greet him with a kiss on the cheek, and he's found he likes even the brief, affectionate kisses as much as the real ones. Well, almost as much. "We'll see you downstairs."

He motions for Damen to follow him. "I'll explain on our way. The keys to your apartment," he repeats, bringing Damen through the bedroom, into the living room, and out of Dutch's apartment and into the hallway. "It'll be like the one we were just in. That's Dutch's. It's like a lot of small houses in one large building."

He pauses, but decides on taking Damen down the stairs instead of the elevator. One less thing to explain.

"And there is no wall. We're kept here by magic."

Dutch watches them go, marveling at how there can be two men as big as them in the same city. D'av was a big guy but he would have been tiny compared to these two. She resolutely pushes thoughts of D'av and Johnny away. Those two always seemed to pull her into a bout of melancholy and she didn't want that right now.

Instead, she gathers up her things and pulls on a jacket before heading downstairs. She waits for them just outside, hands in her pockets and an easy smile on her lips.

They kissed with an easy affection and Damen's gaze lingered on Dutch only a moment, curious of her confident nature, before following Matthias. He was led out into what seemed to be a hallway and then down a number of stairs.

'You continue to insist on this magic,' Damen said with a deepening frown. 'Have you tried to leave at all?'

It seemed a stupid question immediately after he asked it and Damen shook his head. 'No, of course you have. You must have. But there is no means at all. Not even by boat?'

"It's the only explanation anyone can seem to agree on," Matthias says, his tone apologetic if only because he remembers well how he had wondered the same things, and how difficult it had been to accept them. Only time and seeing it with his own eyes had made it true.

"It's like some kind of invisible barrier. You can walk, take a ship, even an automobile. But if you go too far you get turned around. It's maddening," he admits.

There was another word Damen didn't understand, but feeling foolish enough already, he refused to ask after it. Instead, he followed Matthias the few remaining steps and into another hallway seemingly exactly like the one several floors up.

Had he ever been in a fortress of this size? It lacked the artistry of a palace, even of his home in Ios, but the size...

'What is the purpose then?' he asked, dread a coil in his belly. 'Are we meant to serve someone? Is there a war to be fought?'

"No. I don't know what the purpose is," Matthias says, and brings out his key to unlock the door of his apartment. He motions Damen inside. His apartment is a near replica of Dutch's with the same layout and furnishings. The main difference is that Dutch is messier than him. Matthias, with his military upbringing keeps things clean and orderly.

He's glad for once than Annika isn't here. He lets her stay in the forest outside of Candlewood overnight sometimes. She likes to be surrounded by nature, and she knows to behave herself.

"It just brings us here to live. It's...mostly peaceful. But I think that depends on what your idea of peaceful is," he says, and moves to the bedroom to find Damen a shirt and shoes, if they'll fit him.

'It,' Damen echoed, taking in the lay of the room as Matthias walked ahead of him. It was almost identical to the one in which he'd awoken, though a good deal cleaner. Tidier. Fewer bits of clothing and items scattered about. 'Are you implying the city itself is in control?'

A moment later, Matthias handed him a shirt made of simple, white fabric. There were blessedly few lacings -- none, in fact -- and Damen turned it this way and that before fitting it over his head like armor. It fit snugly, stretching across his shoulders and digging into his upper arms, but it would do. The sandals provided were a better fit and, though there were no lacings to keep them affixed, he found little difficulty keeping them on.

Glancing up then, he gave Matthias a thoughtful look and a nod. 'And thank you,' he said, his voice a touch softer as he plucked at the shirt. 'These are very strange garments.'

"That seems to be the way of it. No one has ever found a person or more controlling anything. Things just...happen," Matthias says, watching as Damen puts on the shirt and sandals. He sighs when the shirt fits him tightly, and glances down at his own chest.

"You're welcome," he says. "You can keep them until we get you things in your size. The city gives you money for that. Hang on a moment."

Matthias slips into his bedroom to change from his pajama pants into his jeans. He puts on a pair of socks and his running sneakers and returns to the main room.

"It's the clothing of this city. It's strange to me, too, a little. These shoes especially," he says looking to his sneakers.

'It gives money?' Damen asked, once again not understanding anything at all. 'How? Where does it come from?'

He followed Matthias into the room, only stopping short when he realized exactly why Matthias had gone in there at all. Though nudity was no issue to Damen, he knew that wasn't so in every culture. He turned away to inspect the bare, white walls and the furnishings of this room, shaking his head.

'I can't make sense of any of this,' he confessed a moment later, turning when Matthias speaks again and glancing down at his feet with a new expression of bewilderment. They were most certainly not boots, though they at least bore laces. 'They are comfortable?'

"I don't know," Matthias tells him. He never questioned it very much, he was just grateful that he hadn't had to find a way here penniless and homeless. "There's a bank, and it gives you a certain amount at the start of each month."

"I know it doesn't make much sense now. I felt that way too. I still feel that way about a lot of it, but...you'll get used to being here eventually. And you might even find someone you know," he adds with a small shrug. After all, Kaz, Inej, and now Jesper are here. Though none of Dutch's companions have shown up.

He looks down at the sneakers and smiles up at Damen. "These are very comfortable, and not as hot as boots. You'll want to get a pair." He nods toward the door. "Let's go," he says, and opens the door back up, letting Damen go ahead first.

The more Matthias spoke, the more questions Damen had to hold at bay. He couldn't imagine who would join him here, not when he hadn't chosen to come here himself. Would anyone be looking for him? Would Laurent assume he'd been taken or that he'd run? Would he care?

Frowning, Damen stared at the shoes adorning Matthias's feet with unfocused eyes.

When he glanced up again, Matthias was ushering him back out of the room and, dumbly, Damen followed. 'You know the person who makes them?' he asked, testing the feel of the borrowed shoes on his own feet with every step. 'And how do I find this money? This bank?'

"No. That is another strange thing about this place, things are made and then sold to stores, and then other people sell them in the stores. The shoes aren't specially fitted, you can find them in all sizes and colors," Matthias tries to explain. It had been a shock for him, to walk in and see all the identical shoes in rows of neat boxes. There were so many more options than he was used to.

He brings them downstairs and meets back up with Dutch.

"The money will be in your packet, and you can keep it in the bank, or get more out of the bank." He gives Dutch a helpless look. This must be how he had been with her all the times she had helped him.

The helpless looks makes Dutch smile as she pushes away from the wall she'd been leaning on. They both look in one piece so, unfortunately, there hadn't been any tussling between the two. Too bad. She'll just have to imagine it in her dreams.

"Everything all right?" she asks them both. "Have fun?"

Damen was beginning to think there wasn't a single thing about this place that wasn't strange. Stores full of shoes made by another, none of them fitted. Packets full of money. A language he had never seen, but inherently understood. None of it felt real. None of it felt feasible.

Dutch was waiting for them in another, larger room. She smirked at them, an expression Damen might have thought to comment upon if not for his continued, general unease.

Instead, he only said, 'Fun is not a word I'd use to describe anything about this morning.' His words trailed off however as his eyes caught on the vast windows that took up almost one entire wall. He moved toward it slowly, mouth agape at the sight that awaited him beyond the glass. For it was not a fort he saw, or at least no fort he'd ever seen before. The structures were massive, the designs neither Akielon nor Veretian. Not even Vaskian.

All Damen could do was stare.

Edited 2016-05-26 02:41 (UTC)

Matthias conveyed to Dutch with a look that nothing about this was fun. Not only was he still sore that someone had shown up in bed with him, but he also didn't like being the one to explain the fantastical elements of this world when he, himself, still did not understand many of them.

At least Damen seems nice enough. Matthias had been through most of this himself, largely with Dutch's help, he just forgot how much there is to explain.

"There will be moving machines out there, they're called cars," Matthias supplies in advance, and takes Dutch's hand for the walk to the train station.

"And those are the fastest thing this place has got," Dutch says, sighing in a very put upon way. The cars aren't terrible but she continues to miss her ship. However, she doesn't say anything to that effect because Damen's already confused enough and she doesn't want to get into space travel just yet. He might not even believe there's something up there past the sometimes blue sky.

"Cars are pretty helpful but you might want to save learning how to drive for at least your second week here," she advises. "It'll be a little easier to focus then. Possibly."

He glanced back again at the sound of Matthia's voice, dumbfounded and wholly unnerved.

'Do you not have horses?' he asked, staring at their joined hands for a moment before walking out with them. The air, he was relieved to find, felt just as it had at home. He had not considered it might feel differently until seconds before they'd left the confines of the building, but he was still relieved.

There was nothing he had seen, so far, that reminded him of Akielos, or even Vere.

Matthias lets out a small laugh at Dutch's comment about driving. It took him two weeks to master the microwave, let alone drive a car, which he has yet to even consider trying.

"There are horses to ride for leisure, but no one uses them as transportation," Matthias says. "You can ride on the bus, which is like a very large car that you don't have to drive yourself. Or a taxi, which is a car someone else drives for you."

There is also, supposedly, the subway, but Matthias hasn't tried that yet.

"And I haven't been near a horse," Dutch tells him with a shake of her head. She prefers things with a little more power, a little more kick than a horse. She wants a fast ship or a fast car or, if all else fails, someone big and fast to carry her around. Running's such a chore, after all.

"The city's not that big either so walking everywhere isn't necessarily out of the question either," Dutch advises with a shrug. "I've run around the island a few times and it's big but not that big. It's doable as long as it's not snowing or raining acid."

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it was going to be a beautiful day

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