[Shinji stares at the polished metal door in front of him. The placard next to it--K. NAGISA--seems almost accusatory with its large, blocky lettering. As far as Shinji knows, Nagisa-kun isn't anywhere near to this room. Nagisa should be attending a meeting with the other pilots and WILLE's officer team--something about humanitarian efforts on the mainland. It's very important work, presumably, and it's work that Shinji hasn't been invited to help out with. Which is just fine with him. It gives him the time to do something he's been wanting to do: investigate all that he can about their unlikely ally. He's come to accept that Nagisa doesn't intend to harm him, but that doesn't mean... well...
Exhaling quietly, he touches the button where the doorknob should be. He almost doesn't expect the door to open for him, just to further deter him, yet it's sliding open to reveal Nagisa's personal quarters. He blinks several times, then frowns, because the sterile bedroom isn't suspicious at all. Glancing over his shoulder, he checks to make sure no one is coming or going before he steps inside. The door slides shut behind him.]
Okay... [Talking to himself is truly sad, but he has to do something to interrupt the silence.] If I were an Angel, where would I... [Hide his plans for a hostile takeover? Please. Nagisa wouldn't even need a weapon, not when he could cut them apart, stem from stern, without breaking a sweat. Shinji scrubs at his hair, frustrated, before deciding to start with Nagisa's desk. Even Angels must be prone to storing things inside desks.
In general, the room doesn't seem like it's getting much use, even though there's a bonsai fruit tree sitting on top of the desk. A fully formed apple is hanging from one of the tiny branches, too. This seems really weird to Shinji, since he's heard that Angels don't need human food. It's really weird and, honestly, also kind of endearing--
Footsteps out in the hall. Footsteps right outside the door.
Shinji freezes in place, his eyes wide, his fingers just about brushing the apple. His heart explodes into a wild, galloping panic. Lacking anywhere better to hide (the bed is too low, there's no room behind the desk, fuck fuck fuck), he abruptly throws himself into the half-empty, 5-foot-nothing locker that's positioned near Nagisa's desk. The fit is uncomfortable and colder than ice, but he manages to get the door closed anyway.
Please don't be Nagisa-- Please don't be Nagisa--]
[The door slides open with its customary hiss, and soft steps move into the interior of the small living space. It closes again almost immediately, and after that, Kaworu sighs. The meetings exhaust him beyond what his core can repair; it's a soul thing. His heart doesn't get much rest. His S2 Engine soothes his body's weariness and keeps him physically ready for anything, but he has no parts built in to temper his loneliness. Kaworu's most isolated times weren't spent in the cold dust of the moon... No, he feels most set apart when he's in a room full of Lilin, whose vitriol he can sense without even trying to read their hearts. They let him sit among them, but he's strained out of their ranks like an impurity. As much as he deserves it, and though he can't resent them, it drains him to be exposed directly to their hatred like flesh to a fire. His heart feels like a blister.
Best to air himself out, then. The other pilots wear their plugsuits near constantly. But the other pilots also walk through Wunder's corridors with their heads held high. Kaworu ghosts through as best he can, trying not to intrude, navigating the heat of WILLE's anger. It's more for their sake than his own. The loathing, he thinks, he can handle. But he wants to cause Lilin as little discomfort as he can manage. They already go through so much. Captain Katsuragi explained to him at the beginning of his stay with the crew that his presence would lower morale, and that making himself scarce would be the best way for him to help when off-duty. Lilin says, "Out of sight, out of mind." Kaworu knows, too, that it's better for Captain Katsuragi if he doesn't make trouble. With the harsh living conditions and constant threat of battle, there are those among the crew who would care to up and leave, if there were there anywhere else to go. There's already some quiet talk about forming a community independent of WILLE. Captain Katsuragi says, "Don't give them a reason." So he'll tend to his tree and his Mark.06, and he'll tend to Lilin when they allow it, but the plugsuit is not a badge of honor for him. And he likes to let his skin breathe free of LCL, besides.
There's only some quiet rustling to be heard when Kaworu starts to peel off his plugsuit. He folds it in half and lets it rest over the back of the rickety little chair that sits in front of the desk. Then he dons the black trousers that were lying folded on his bed, and sits down on the thin mattress with a great creak. (When he does take the time to sleep, it isn't very comfortable. He really sympathizes with Lilin and its need for constant rest.)
His voice is gentle when he finally speaks: ] Would you mind handing me my shirt? [He doesn't sound angry (he isn't) or tired (he wills himself not to be). All he does is sit patiently on his little bunk, half-dressed.]
My belt, too, if you will.
[He can't keep himself from smiling. Ikari Shinji-kun has come to see him.]
[Please don't be Nagisa please don't be Nagisa please don't be Nagisa--
It's Nagisa.
Shinji would know that quiet sigh and soft footfall anywhere, and he doesn't have the space to question why he knows it. He just clamps his hand over his mouth and holds his breath tightly. Nobody here but us lockers, really. There's a bent hanger digging into his neck, testing his tolerance for pain, but lockers would never react to the pain. Nagisa is moving around out there, seemingly taking his sweet time, likely undressing (oh god) according to the familiar sound of sliding memory cloth (oh sweet merciful god). If luck is on Shinji's side, Nagisa is simply changing into civilian clothes and will venture off somewhere else afterward.
Luck, of course, is the last thing Shinji can count on.
The bed creaks as beds will with Nagisa sitting down on it. Shinji squeezes his eyes shut, hoping beyond hope that the knocking of his knobbly knees isn't as audible as he thinks it is. This was a terrible idea, he tells himself. This was a terrible idea to begin with, but now it's entering brain damage levels of terrible. You can't be in a coma for fourteen years and not lose a truckload of brain cells.]
Eh--?
[Shirt? Belt?!?!?! As startled as he is, Shinji would have jumped a foot in the air if not for the locker's low ceiling. Those patiently-spoken words might as well have been in Greek, though; they hardly make any sense to him. The locker clangs with an involuntary strike of his elbow as he struggles to reorient himself. It hurts. His eyes watering, he has to accept that Nagisa saw right through him...
He pushes open the door and peeks outside--Nagisa isn't even dressed. Nagisa is sitting there in only his slacks and he's smiling warmly. This isn't the communal shower where a half-naked Nagisa might appear, this is Nagisa's own bedroom, and he's smiling like that. With a literal "eep," Shinji ducks back into the sanctuary of the locker again. He doesn't want to horrify Nagisa with his superheated, undoubtedly melting face.]
Sorry. I am so sorry.
[Yeah, that's a good start. Nobody here but us talking lockers.]
[It's next to never that Kaworu gets an apology from anyone, but hearing it now doesn't feel good. Of the lengthy list of people who should never apologize to him (which includes billions from Second Impact and its aftermath), Ikari Shinji-kun is at the top. Of the lengthy list of people Kaworu should have done better for, Ikari Shinji-kun is...
Kaworu rests his palms against the bed, and leans back, smiling with profound fondness.]
It's all right. Hey, I'm not angry with you. [With a moment's consideration, and a deep sadness alongside it, he adds,] I'm not going to hurt you.
[So far, there have only been a handful of attempts made with a more direct approach: Kaworu is still testing the idea that it might help for Shinji-kun to know straight away that Nagisa Kaworu is an Angel. As of yet, it hasn't worked, but Kaworu keeps making adjustments, and he keeps having hope. Working with WILLE, too, is a legitimately valuable experience.
These absolutely aren't easy attempts, however. Not that any of them are (yes, he is tired), but when Kaworu reminisces on his apathetic haze, he realizes that he squandered Shinji-kun's trust when he had it. In those days, Shinji-kun called him by his first name, the name he wants to live by most. In those days, Shinji-kun smiled. Now he seems uncomfortable whenever they're in the same room. He doesn't blush poppy red and demure. He creeps, and his soul is a jumble. He is isolated, and understandably reluctant to kindle any friendship with one of the creatures he'd set out to destroy. These reactions aren't unreasonable... and they're as much as Kaworu deserves. But a lashing hurts even a guilty man.
[Shinji has to breathe in and breathe out, and then he can concentrate on what Nagisa is saying to him. He has to concentrate hard on the meaning of the words before he feels a pang not far off from guilt. Believing in Nagisa's words wouldn't be the worst thing to happen. It would mean having a lot less anxiety, at least. And he already does believe in them to some extent--just not as much as he could, theoretically. Right now, it's true that Nagisa wouldn't hurt him. There would be no point in hurting him. No motive. It's the motive that Shinji is trying his best to figure out. Once he knows why Nagisa would want to hurt him (apparently it isn't killing Angels...), it only follows that Nagisa will hurt him eventually. (Or something like that. This makes a lot more sense when he's lying in bed, unable or unwilling to sleep.) But right now Nagisa is saying that he isn't angry and he isn't going to hurt him, in what must be the nicest voice in the world. Shinji's heart rate begins to slow down before he approves of the deceleration.
Biting his bottom lip, he reaches for the inside latch again. He can climb out, hand over Nagisa's clothes, apologize another ten times, and lastly excuse himself from view. This is too embarrassing--Shinji is pulling on the latch--to stay for another minute more. The latch feels weirdly loose, like there's no mechanism inside of it. This is way, way too embarrassing and the door is refusing to open on top of it. He stares into the gloom, his blood reversing direction. He tries again, jiggling the latch. The locker rattles in response. He jiggles the latch more and the locker rattles some more in response.
You know, it's never too late to develop claustrophobia.]
Uhm...
[How is he going to get out of here?!]
I can't.
[Then again, maybe he shouldn't get out of here? It's a bit like a coffin, like the crimson one he woke up in. It guarantees that he won't hurt anyone else if he's trapped inside it.]
I think the door is... stuck...
[His face scrunches up all of a sudden. He studiously tells himself that he isn't going to cry, not now, god damn it. He's uncomfortable in Nagisa's presence as much as he feels himself yearning to be in it. More and more intently, he wants to earn the kindness that Nagisa has shown him without asking for anything in return. He can't even try to earn a single iota of respect when he's uncool and stupid enough to get himself locked in a locker.]
The door's really stuck. Na-- Nagisa-kun, it won't let me out.
[Please ignore that slightly hysterical note in his voice.]
[But Kaworu can never, would never ignore anything about Shinji-kun. The hysteria is noted, processed, and sampled with love. Kaworu takes it into himself and holds it, hot like a lit coal in his mouth, cherishing everything about Shinji-kun that he's able to experience.
But regardless of its beauty, Kaworu isn't aiming to let Shinji-kun wallow in the worst feelings. He wants to provide absolutely any measure of comfort he's able. To feel hysterical, even a little bit, is frightening, and fear already eats away at Shinji-kun so much, in everything... So anything that Kaworu can do to soothe him is a worthwhile endeavor.]
Don't worry. You don't have to be afraid, Ikari-kun. [It's an offering: you don't have to... Kaworu wants Shinji-kun to know that he has a choice. (He wants Shinji-kun to know that he is loved.)
The bed creaks one more time when Kaworu stands up.] I'm coming to help you right now. [He moves easily to the locker. while he speaks, so his voice grows nearer, too. He says softly,] I’ll help you. [His A.T. Field spreads its edges, just enough to come into contact with the locker.
(Captain Katsuragi has made it clear that WILLE won’t stand for Kaworu using the A.T. Field too freely. If he scrambles their signals or dims their clarity, they’ll turn on him. The choker around his neck matches Shinji-kun's in its grim meaning and its danger. When he first entered WILLE's ranks, he knew that it wouldn't be enough just to hold their hatred in his heart. The Captain said, "It doesn't matter how many times you save our lives. This isn't ever coming off. If you understand that, I'll let you on my ship." Kaworu said, "I understand." He smiled. They collared him, and he boarded. He had a choice, at least. Shinji-kun woke up wondering. Kaworu has always understood the consequences of being truly hated.)
He can feel, as stark as sunlight, the collapsed pieces of the locker’s latch. Carefully, his A.T. Field guides them back into place with small metallic clicks.]
I won’t let anything happen to you.
[The door opens. Kaworu stands before the locker with his hand outstretched.]
[Doesn't have to be afraid? He doesn't have to be afraid? What can he be other than bladder-clenchingly, pulse-poundingly, skin-crawlingly afraid? It isn't just the cold and cramped locker that frightens Ikari Shinji, but practically everything else. There's little solace to be found anyplace other than the unchanging stars and the space in between them. Shinji can't reply because his throat is clogging up with his fears. He ducks his head and gasps weakly, uselessly, about to be smothered. Still, if Nagisa is to be believed, he's going to get out of this would-be coffin soon. He's trying to stay focused on that much. (It's like trying to focus on a nearby rescue boat when your lungs have already filled with water.)
The locker door does open, though. Nagisa is looking at him, offering a hand to him. Shinji tells himself it's a reflex, a spasm of his pinched muscles, but he knows deep down that he's choosing to reach for Nagisa's hand. (A drowning man can't pick and choose which hand is going to help him.) (Beggars can't be choosers any more than they can become accusers.) Shinji registers the appreciation of this hand before he registers the disgust for this hand before he registers the guilt in doubting this hand's intent. His stomach sinks lower than lead, but he starts breathing again.
Finally, he forces himself to look up at Nagisa. It's impossible not to take note of Nagisa's hand and how pale it is, and then his forearm, his upper arm, his shoulder... his, uh... his chest and such... What use does an Angel have for a belly button? His core isn't even visible, as if to perpetuate the illusion of humanity. His face is human-shaped and warm and really gentle, offering the little solace that hasn't to do with the stars and their spacing. Shinji forgets that he's supposed to pull away and shun contact. It's the sight of Nagisa's collar that really convinces Shinji to calm down. Not because an Angel is wearing a dangerous collar--probably wouldn't land a scratch on him--but because it matches the collar Shinji is wearing. They're the twinned targets of human hatred.]
Thank you, Nagisa-kun. [That felt like more than half of eternity, even though it's only been a few seconds. He steps out of the locker, careful not to hit his head in the process. He's almost proud of himself for his eyes staying clear and dry. Somewhere between relieved laughter and pleading, he says,] Don't tell anyone else about what just happened, okay? I couldn't deal with it. I wouldn't be able to live it down...
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
astrobleme) wrote2015-04-20 09:29 pm
no subject
no subject
Exhaling quietly, he touches the button where the doorknob should be. He almost doesn't expect the door to open for him, just to further deter him, yet it's sliding open to reveal Nagisa's personal quarters. He blinks several times, then frowns, because the sterile bedroom isn't suspicious at all. Glancing over his shoulder, he checks to make sure no one is coming or going before he steps inside. The door slides shut behind him.]
Okay... [Talking to himself is truly sad, but he has to do something to interrupt the silence.] If I were an Angel, where would I... [Hide his plans for a hostile takeover? Please. Nagisa wouldn't even need a weapon, not when he could cut them apart, stem from stern, without breaking a sweat. Shinji scrubs at his hair, frustrated, before deciding to start with Nagisa's desk. Even Angels must be prone to storing things inside desks.
In general, the room doesn't seem like it's getting much use, even though there's a bonsai fruit tree sitting on top of the desk. A fully formed apple is hanging from one of the tiny branches, too. This seems really weird to Shinji, since he's heard that Angels don't need human food. It's really weird and, honestly, also kind of endearing--
Footsteps out in the hall. Footsteps right outside the door.
Shinji freezes in place, his eyes wide, his fingers just about brushing the apple. His heart explodes into a wild, galloping panic. Lacking anywhere better to hide (the bed is too low, there's no room behind the desk, fuck fuck fuck), he abruptly throws himself into the half-empty, 5-foot-nothing locker that's positioned near Nagisa's desk. The fit is uncomfortable and colder than ice, but he manages to get the door closed anyway.
Please don't be Nagisa-- Please don't be Nagisa--]
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Best to air himself out, then. The other pilots wear their plugsuits near constantly. But the other pilots also walk through Wunder's corridors with their heads held high. Kaworu ghosts through as best he can, trying not to intrude, navigating the heat of WILLE's anger. It's more for their sake than his own. The loathing, he thinks, he can handle. But he wants to cause Lilin as little discomfort as he can manage. They already go through so much. Captain Katsuragi explained to him at the beginning of his stay with the crew that his presence would lower morale, and that making himself scarce would be the best way for him to help when off-duty. Lilin says, "Out of sight, out of mind." Kaworu knows, too, that it's better for Captain Katsuragi if he doesn't make trouble. With the harsh living conditions and constant threat of battle, there are those among the crew who would care to up and leave, if there were there anywhere else to go. There's already some quiet talk about forming a community independent of WILLE. Captain Katsuragi says, "Don't give them a reason." So he'll tend to his tree and his Mark.06, and he'll tend to Lilin when they allow it, but the plugsuit is not a badge of honor for him. And he likes to let his skin breathe free of LCL, besides.
There's only some quiet rustling to be heard when Kaworu starts to peel off his plugsuit. He folds it in half and lets it rest over the back of the rickety little chair that sits in front of the desk. Then he dons the black trousers that were lying folded on his bed, and sits down on the thin mattress with a great creak. (When he does take the time to sleep, it isn't very comfortable. He really sympathizes with Lilin and its need for constant rest.)
His voice is gentle when he finally speaks: ] Would you mind handing me my shirt? [He doesn't sound angry (he isn't) or tired (he wills himself not to be). All he does is sit patiently on his little bunk, half-dressed.]
My belt, too, if you will.
[He can't keep himself from smiling. Ikari Shinji-kun has come to see him.]
no subject
It's Nagisa.
Shinji would know that quiet sigh and soft footfall anywhere, and he doesn't have the space to question why he knows it. He just clamps his hand over his mouth and holds his breath tightly. Nobody here but us lockers, really. There's a bent hanger digging into his neck, testing his tolerance for pain, but lockers would never react to the pain. Nagisa is moving around out there, seemingly taking his sweet time, likely undressing (oh god) according to the familiar sound of sliding memory cloth (oh sweet merciful god). If luck is on Shinji's side, Nagisa is simply changing into civilian clothes and will venture off somewhere else afterward.
Luck, of course, is the last thing Shinji can count on.
The bed creaks as beds will with Nagisa sitting down on it. Shinji squeezes his eyes shut, hoping beyond hope that the knocking of his knobbly knees isn't as audible as he thinks it is. This was a terrible idea, he tells himself. This was a terrible idea to begin with, but now it's entering brain damage levels of terrible. You can't be in a coma for fourteen years and not lose a truckload of brain cells.]
Eh--?
[Shirt? Belt?!?!?! As startled as he is, Shinji would have jumped a foot in the air if not for the locker's low ceiling. Those patiently-spoken words might as well have been in Greek, though; they hardly make any sense to him. The locker clangs with an involuntary strike of his elbow as he struggles to reorient himself. It hurts. His eyes watering, he has to accept that Nagisa saw right through him...
He pushes open the door and peeks outside--Nagisa isn't even dressed. Nagisa is sitting there in only his slacks and he's smiling warmly. This isn't the communal shower where a half-naked Nagisa might appear, this is Nagisa's own bedroom, and he's smiling like that. With a literal "eep," Shinji ducks back into the sanctuary of the locker again. He doesn't want to horrify Nagisa with his superheated, undoubtedly melting face.]
Sorry. I am so sorry.
[Yeah, that's a good start. Nobody here but us talking lockers.]
no subject
Kaworu rests his palms against the bed, and leans back, smiling with profound fondness.]
It's all right. Hey, I'm not angry with you. [With a moment's consideration, and a deep sadness alongside it, he adds,] I'm not going to hurt you.
[So far, there have only been a handful of attempts made with a more direct approach: Kaworu is still testing the idea that it might help for Shinji-kun to know straight away that Nagisa Kaworu is an Angel. As of yet, it hasn't worked, but Kaworu keeps making adjustments, and he keeps having hope. Working with WILLE, too, is a legitimately valuable experience.
These absolutely aren't easy attempts, however. Not that any of them are (yes, he is tired), but when Kaworu reminisces on his apathetic haze, he realizes that he squandered Shinji-kun's trust when he had it. In those days, Shinji-kun called him by his first name, the name he wants to live by most. In those days, Shinji-kun smiled. Now he seems uncomfortable whenever they're in the same room. He doesn't blush poppy red and demure. He creeps, and his soul is a jumble. He is isolated, and understandably reluctant to kindle any friendship with one of the creatures he'd set out to destroy. These reactions aren't unreasonable... and they're as much as Kaworu deserves. But a lashing hurts even a guilty man.
Regardless, Kaworu hasn't stopped smiling.]
Ikari-kun, why don't you come out here?
no subject
Biting his bottom lip, he reaches for the inside latch again. He can climb out, hand over Nagisa's clothes, apologize another ten times, and lastly excuse himself from view. This is too embarrassing--Shinji is pulling on the latch--to stay for another minute more. The latch feels weirdly loose, like there's no mechanism inside of it. This is way, way too embarrassing and the door is refusing to open on top of it. He stares into the gloom, his blood reversing direction. He tries again, jiggling the latch. The locker rattles in response. He jiggles the latch more and the locker rattles some more in response.
You know, it's never too late to develop claustrophobia.]
Uhm...
[How is he going to get out of here?!]
I can't.
[Then again, maybe he shouldn't get out of here? It's a bit like a coffin, like the crimson one he woke up in. It guarantees that he won't hurt anyone else if he's trapped inside it.]
I think the door is... stuck...
[His face scrunches up all of a sudden. He studiously tells himself that he isn't going to cry, not now, god damn it. He's uncomfortable in Nagisa's presence as much as he feels himself yearning to be in it. More and more intently, he wants to earn the kindness that Nagisa has shown him without asking for anything in return. He can't even try to earn a single iota of respect when he's uncool and stupid enough to get himself locked in a locker.]
The door's really stuck. Na-- Nagisa-kun, it won't let me out.
[Please ignore that slightly hysterical note in his voice.]
no subject
But regardless of its beauty, Kaworu isn't aiming to let Shinji-kun wallow in the worst feelings. He wants to provide absolutely any measure of comfort he's able. To feel hysterical, even a little bit, is frightening, and fear already eats away at Shinji-kun so much, in everything... So anything that Kaworu can do to soothe him is a worthwhile endeavor.]
Don't worry. You don't have to be afraid, Ikari-kun. [It's an offering: you don't have to... Kaworu wants Shinji-kun to know that he has a choice. (He wants Shinji-kun to know that he is loved.)
The bed creaks one more time when Kaworu stands up.] I'm coming to help you right now. [He moves easily to the locker. while he speaks, so his voice grows nearer, too. He says softly,] I’ll help you. [His A.T. Field spreads its edges, just enough to come into contact with the locker.
(Captain Katsuragi has made it clear that WILLE won’t stand for Kaworu using the A.T. Field too freely. If he scrambles their signals or dims their clarity, they’ll turn on him. The choker around his neck matches Shinji-kun's in its grim meaning and its danger. When he first entered WILLE's ranks, he knew that it wouldn't be enough just to hold their hatred in his heart. The Captain said, "It doesn't matter how many times you save our lives. This isn't ever coming off. If you understand that, I'll let you on my ship." Kaworu said, "I understand." He smiled. They collared him, and he boarded. He had a choice, at least. Shinji-kun woke up wondering. Kaworu has always understood the consequences of being truly hated.)
He can feel, as stark as sunlight, the collapsed pieces of the locker’s latch. Carefully, his A.T. Field guides them back into place with small metallic clicks.]
I won’t let anything happen to you.
[The door opens. Kaworu stands before the locker with his hand outstretched.]
no subject
The locker door does open, though. Nagisa is looking at him, offering a hand to him. Shinji tells himself it's a reflex, a spasm of his pinched muscles, but he knows deep down that he's choosing to reach for Nagisa's hand. (A drowning man can't pick and choose which hand is going to help him.) (Beggars can't be choosers any more than they can become accusers.) Shinji registers the appreciation of this hand before he registers the disgust for this hand before he registers the guilt in doubting this hand's intent. His stomach sinks lower than lead, but he starts breathing again.
Finally, he forces himself to look up at Nagisa. It's impossible not to take note of Nagisa's hand and how pale it is, and then his forearm, his upper arm, his shoulder... his, uh... his chest and such... What use does an Angel have for a belly button? His core isn't even visible, as if to perpetuate the illusion of humanity. His face is human-shaped and warm and really gentle, offering the little solace that hasn't to do with the stars and their spacing. Shinji forgets that he's supposed to pull away and shun contact. It's the sight of Nagisa's collar that really convinces Shinji to calm down. Not because an Angel is wearing a dangerous collar--probably wouldn't land a scratch on him--but because it matches the collar Shinji is wearing. They're the twinned targets of human hatred.]
Thank you, Nagisa-kun. [That felt like more than half of eternity, even though it's only been a few seconds. He steps out of the locker, careful not to hit his head in the process. He's almost proud of himself for his eyes staying clear and dry. Somewhere between relieved laughter and pleading, he says,] Don't tell anyone else about what just happened, okay? I couldn't deal with it. I wouldn't be able to live it down...