Snafu 7 and 8
Apr. 22nd, 2005 04:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardI think it was probably a mistake to put Snafu 6, the Interlude, and the random ficlet all in the same post.
Also, I have noticed that Phil's last name changes from chapter to chapter. In Snafu 2 it's "DiCarlo", in Snafu 5 it's "DaCosta." *facepalm* It's DiCarlo. And Sonny and Curly aren't twins - Curly's older. At the moment, anyway. And God knows how old Danny is if he was seventeen going on eighteen during the Interlude.
She had all the databases of the NYPD at her fingertips.
Stella didn’t like it – it seemed invasive, somehow, and that it was – but she had to find something. Anything. Something to show Mac that Danny was one of the good guys.
“Are you going to take some ex-con’s word over your own eyes?” she’d demanded of Mac at the scene.
“You saw –”
“Yeah, and what of it? So what? He’s done with that. He said it himself. Two dates, you saw ‘em. Are you trying to tell me you never participated in a little youthful indiscretion?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted it. Well, she didn’t regret it, she just realized this was Mac, and if he’d let down his hair sometime in the last forty years she’d eat her badge.
Daniel Messer, she typed slowly into the computer, and clicked Search before she could stop herself. The computer hummed away for a few seconds, then presented her with a dozen pages of results.
Crime scene investigator in –
The latest in a line of fine police officers –
– found the suspect’s fingerprints on the victim –
It was buried away on the very last page, but the last page, the oldest, held what she hadn’t known she’d been looking for.
Daniel Messer, seventeen years of age, witness for the prosecution.
– murder of Officer Andrew James O’Malley –
– Vincent Patriso as the only viable suspect. Messer was injured –
– single gunshot wound to the torso. The bullet matched the round found in O’Malley’s body –
– unreliable witness. Defense stated –
Court records. Stella had found the court records for the O’Malley case. The cop-killer case, the one where Vincent Patriso – the vic, now – had been the only suspect. Never convicted.
And Danny had been the prosecution’s only evidence.
Unreliable witness. Danny.
And Mac had never known. Never guessed. Until now.
*
She woke in a tangle of bedsheets, arm groping on her bedstand for her ringing phone. “Motherfucker,” she hissed, and fumbled the phone up to her ear. “Bonasera.”
“Are you up, Stella?”
Mac. Fucking Christ.
“Define ‘up.’ Mac, it’s six o’clock in the fucking morning.” She rolled over to check the digital clock. “Excuse me. Five forty-three. AM, dammit. This had better be good.”
“Flack’s missing.”
“What?” Stella demanded, propping herself up on one elbow. “I could have sworn you just said Flack was missing.”
Mac sounded vaguely apologetic. “He is. And Danny’s not answering his phone.”
“Gee, I wonder why,” Stella said sarcastically. “You don’t suppose they’re like, not answering their phones together or something, do you?”
“What?” Mac said, echoing her earlier statement.
“Never mind,” she said hastily. Heaven forbid Mac think anybody else in this lab might be getting some! “How can Flack be missing? We only saw him a couple hours ago.”
“Neighbor called it in. Heard a struggled in the apartment. When he banged on the wall, it didn’t stop, then he heard a gunshot. The cops called me when they realized whose apartment it was. Flack’s nowhere to be found and there’s a blood trail in the hall.” Slightly despondently, he added, “And the door is locked.”
“You didn’t have any of the uniforms knock it down?”
“We’re waiting on the landlord. He’s over in Queens, got caught in traffic.”
Stella shook her head to herself. Back in my day, she thought, landlords stayed in their own buildings. “Okay,” she said. “Let me get some clothes on and some coffee, and I’ll be right over. Meanwhile, you call Aiden.”
“Why?”
Because she’s Flack’s friend and would probably like to know he’s MIA. “Because she has a key.”
“What?”
“I’ve never asked why, and I advise you don’t either,” Stella said dryly. “You call Aiden, I’ll handle Danny.”
It took him a few minutes to realize where he was, by which point he had begun panicking and gone for his gun. Which, of course, wasn’t where it usually was – under his pillow – but rather – actually, he didn’t know where it was, but he really hoped it was still holstered on his belt, which was hopefully still attached to his pants, which were hopefully somewhere in the room. Wherever this room was.
Evidently they were, or at least his coat was, because the sound of his phone ringing finally registered and Danny flung himself toward it, extricating his phone from the folds of his coat. It was at this point he realized he was completely naked.
Well. Considering he couldn’t remember what had happened last night, that was probably a bad sign. He at least hoped the sex had been good.
“Hello?” he said thickly, pulling his boxers on.
“Daniel Messer!” Stella bellowed. It was really amazing how loudly she could yell.
“Uh…yeah?” Clothes. Get some clothes on before she tore him a new one across the phone.
“Where the hell are you?” She was angry. That was never a good sign.
“Are you leavin’ already?” the guy in the bed mumbled.
“Yes,” Danny said, as the beginnings of a hangover stretched out their dirty fingers and tickled at his brain. “Wait – what part of New York is this?”
The guy raised his head, eyes bloodshot. “This ain’t New York. This is Bayonne.”
“Shit!” Danny yelped in horror. “I’m in New Jersey?”
“You are so dead,” Stella said, in tones that brooked no argument. “Mac is going to kill you.”
“Oh, God, don’t tell Mac,” Danny gasped, visions of decapitation dancing in front of his eyes. “He’s already pissed at me, he’ll use all those crazy Marine skills and forensic knowledge to kill me fucking dead.”
“He’s worried about you,” Stella said shortly. “You know where Flack’s apartment is?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Get your ass over there stat. And bring your kit.”
*
“Where’s Danny?” Mac demanded as Stella came up the stairs.
“He’s going to be a little late,” Stella said dryly. “How late depends on trafic. Landlord still hasn’t shown?”
Mac gave her an odd look. “No,” he said. “Evidently the traffic is really bad.”
“Yeah, well, this is New York. The traffic is always bad. How do we know Flack isn’t dead or injured behind that door?”
“Heat sensor showed no sign of life and the security cameras caught three men wearing hoods carrying Flack out of the building.” Mac’s face was despondent.
Cold fear sent tingles up and down Stella’s spine. David Crehan, face bare and vloody, badge caught within the flesh of his throat. Vincent Patriso, strangled in his own living room. The mystery woman, garroted, head nearly severed from her body. A thousand dead bodies, dead a thousand ways. She didn’t want Flack to join them. “Is –”
“An alert’s been sent out,” Mac said tiredly. “If he’s on the street, they’ll find him.” He didn’t sound very convinced.
“I’m here, I’m here,” Aiden said, jogging up the stairs. “Sorry I’m late, traffic’s a –” She glanced around, saw the blood on the floor, and went white. “What’s goin’ on? Where’s Flack? Where’s Danny?”
Stella looked at Mac. “Flack’s been kidnapped,” she said when he didn’t speak. “Danny’s on his way.” Hopefully. I can’t believe he’s in fucking New Jersey.
“Oh, fucking fuck,” Aiden said, clenching her teeth. She dug in her pcket and came up with a brassy key on a keychain shaped like an NYPD detective’s badge. “Someone’s lookin’ for him, right? Out on the street? He’s not –”
“An alert’s been sent out,” Mac repeated. He turned and fit the key into the door. It jammed, then opened when he set his shoulder to it.
“Oh, motherfuck,” Stella said into the silence that followed. There was only one thing that pattern on the wall could be, and it wasn’t wallpaper.
Blood spatter.
And Chapter Eight.
Danny went up the stairs to Flack’s third story apartment slower than he would otherwise have done, unhappily aware of the greasy feel of his clean clothes against his unwashed body. He’d stopped at the Lab for a change of clothes and to pick up his kit, now, looking at the plainclothesmen and uniforms scattered through the lobby and halls of the apartment, he wasn’t sure he should’ve taken the time. Stella had said to bring his kit, though –
The carpet in the hall was a dirty shade of tan, the same that lined apartments nationwide. It took him a moment to recognize what the dark stains on it were, then his training and his common sense kicked in. They were taped off, and each was marked with a little yellow marker with a number on it. Blood. Leading down the hall. From Flack’s apartment.
Danny pushed open the door.
“Motherfuck, Danny,” Aiden yelped, re-holstering her gun from where it had been pointing at his face. “Next time knock or somethin’, alright? Jesus Christ, I could have fucking shot you.”
“What’s goin’ on?” Danny asked, taking a careful step forward and closing the door behind him. “Where’s Flack? Shouldn’t he know we’re goin’ through his apartment?” Except if he knew, then he was – Christ, they only called the Crime Scene Unit out for felonies or capital crimes. Usually homicides. And – was the blood spatter on the walls?
If Curly had anything to do with this, I’m going to break his fucking neck.
Aiden looked pained. “Didn’t Stella tell you anything, Danny?”
“No, she said somethin’ about having to run off – Aiden, what the hell’s goin’ on? Is Flack –” Dead hovered on his lips, but if he said it, that would make it true. He didn’t want –
“He’s missing,” she said shortly. “Kidnapped. Security cameras caught it, neighbor called it in when he heard a struggle and a gunshot.” She set her camera down on top of her kit while Danny was still processing this, taut with shock, and swung at him.
Her right hook caught him hard in the jaw. He took a few startled steps back, then raised his free hand to rub at the spot where her fist had connected. “What the hell was that for, Aiden?” Fuck, that was going to leave a bruise.
“You idiot!” she raged. “I was fucking worried about you – Christ, Flack was missing and you weren’t answering your fucking phone – New Jersey, Danny! Fucking Bayonne, New Jersey!”
She swung at him again, wildly, and this time Danny dodged her blow and grabbed her wrist. She was half-sobbing now. “You goddamned moron.”
“Aiden, I’m okay,” Danny said, half-believing it himself. “I’m –” not okay. I’m scared out of my fucking mind. “I’m not missing. I’m not – like Crehan.”
That didn’t help. Aiden wailed again – he wasn’t used to her crying, what the hell was he supposed to do now? – and then flung her arms around his neck. Danny hugged her awkwardly. “Aiden –”
She slapped him. At least this time it wasn’t a punch. Then she grabbed his collar and hauled him down to eye level. “You ever do anything like that again, Daniel Messer, and I’ll kill you so dead even Mac won’t be able to find your body.”
“Okay,” Danny said. “I – okay.”
She sniffled, then stepped back and wiped her nose. “Fuck you, Danny Messer, you ruined my makeup.”
“Uh –” He hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected that at all. “Right. New Jersey’s out of bounds then.”
“You got that right, you moron.” Aiden glared at him, then turned around and gestured at the room. “Crime scene.”
“I got that part. The crime tape might have had somethin’ to do with that.” Rubbing tentatively at his face – fuck, Aiden left bruises – Danny turned around to look at the blood spatter on the wall. “Don’t tell me that’s what I think it is, is it?”
Aiden leaned down and picked up her camera, then dug through her kit and pulled out an evidence bag. “Here’s the bullet I pulled out of the wall.” Her face was very, very still. She gestured at the tiny kitchen. “And the body’s in there.”
“What?” Flack wasn’t – she’d said kidnapped, not dead, it couldn’t be –
“Not Flack. We don’t have an ID yet, he’s kinda in pieces. Perp stuffed him into the dishwasher.” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s pretty fuckin’ gross. You and I and Flack, we’re goin’ apartment shopping when he gets back, you got that?”
Gets back. Like he was out on vacation or something. “Pieces?” Danny said faintly.
“A hand, both feet, lower body, an arm, torso, head.” Aiden dropped the bullet back into her kit. “Mac and Stella were here, but they had to go back and process the Patriso house. She said to tell you he doesn’t know.”
“Oh, God,” Danny said, dropping his head into his hands.
“You were really a Tanglewood Boy?” she asked after a moment, her voice small.
“You saw the tattoo, Aid.”
Her eyes old, Aiden looked at him for a long moment. “Next time you decide to get drunk and laid, at least stay in the fuckin’ city, Danny. We’ve got eight million people and God knows how many tourists. It shouldn’t be that hard to find someone who won’t take you outta state.”
*
Okay, I've gotta admit I agonized over whether or not to include the fifth body, then decided I wanted to use the shopping crack and needed to make sure there was a reason for the blood spatter and the bullet hole. Also, I couldn't figure out how to end it without including the body. Also, I had to justify the hand that Flack found in Snafu 5 somehow. Who does the body belong to? Damned if I know.
Also, I have noticed that Phil's last name changes from chapter to chapter. In Snafu 2 it's "DiCarlo", in Snafu 5 it's "DaCosta." *facepalm* It's DiCarlo. And Sonny and Curly aren't twins - Curly's older. At the moment, anyway. And God knows how old Danny is if he was seventeen going on eighteen during the Interlude.
She had all the databases of the NYPD at her fingertips.
Stella didn’t like it – it seemed invasive, somehow, and that it was – but she had to find something. Anything. Something to show Mac that Danny was one of the good guys.
“Are you going to take some ex-con’s word over your own eyes?” she’d demanded of Mac at the scene.
“You saw –”
“Yeah, and what of it? So what? He’s done with that. He said it himself. Two dates, you saw ‘em. Are you trying to tell me you never participated in a little youthful indiscretion?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted it. Well, she didn’t regret it, she just realized this was Mac, and if he’d let down his hair sometime in the last forty years she’d eat her badge.
Daniel Messer, she typed slowly into the computer, and clicked Search before she could stop herself. The computer hummed away for a few seconds, then presented her with a dozen pages of results.
Crime scene investigator in –
The latest in a line of fine police officers –
– found the suspect’s fingerprints on the victim –
It was buried away on the very last page, but the last page, the oldest, held what she hadn’t known she’d been looking for.
Daniel Messer, seventeen years of age, witness for the prosecution.
– murder of Officer Andrew James O’Malley –
– Vincent Patriso as the only viable suspect. Messer was injured –
– single gunshot wound to the torso. The bullet matched the round found in O’Malley’s body –
– unreliable witness. Defense stated –
Court records. Stella had found the court records for the O’Malley case. The cop-killer case, the one where Vincent Patriso – the vic, now – had been the only suspect. Never convicted.
And Danny had been the prosecution’s only evidence.
Unreliable witness. Danny.
And Mac had never known. Never guessed. Until now.
*
She woke in a tangle of bedsheets, arm groping on her bedstand for her ringing phone. “Motherfucker,” she hissed, and fumbled the phone up to her ear. “Bonasera.”
“Are you up, Stella?”
Mac. Fucking Christ.
“Define ‘up.’ Mac, it’s six o’clock in the fucking morning.” She rolled over to check the digital clock. “Excuse me. Five forty-three. AM, dammit. This had better be good.”
“Flack’s missing.”
“What?” Stella demanded, propping herself up on one elbow. “I could have sworn you just said Flack was missing.”
Mac sounded vaguely apologetic. “He is. And Danny’s not answering his phone.”
“Gee, I wonder why,” Stella said sarcastically. “You don’t suppose they’re like, not answering their phones together or something, do you?”
“What?” Mac said, echoing her earlier statement.
“Never mind,” she said hastily. Heaven forbid Mac think anybody else in this lab might be getting some! “How can Flack be missing? We only saw him a couple hours ago.”
“Neighbor called it in. Heard a struggled in the apartment. When he banged on the wall, it didn’t stop, then he heard a gunshot. The cops called me when they realized whose apartment it was. Flack’s nowhere to be found and there’s a blood trail in the hall.” Slightly despondently, he added, “And the door is locked.”
“You didn’t have any of the uniforms knock it down?”
“We’re waiting on the landlord. He’s over in Queens, got caught in traffic.”
Stella shook her head to herself. Back in my day, she thought, landlords stayed in their own buildings. “Okay,” she said. “Let me get some clothes on and some coffee, and I’ll be right over. Meanwhile, you call Aiden.”
“Why?”
Because she’s Flack’s friend and would probably like to know he’s MIA. “Because she has a key.”
“What?”
“I’ve never asked why, and I advise you don’t either,” Stella said dryly. “You call Aiden, I’ll handle Danny.”
It took him a few minutes to realize where he was, by which point he had begun panicking and gone for his gun. Which, of course, wasn’t where it usually was – under his pillow – but rather – actually, he didn’t know where it was, but he really hoped it was still holstered on his belt, which was hopefully still attached to his pants, which were hopefully somewhere in the room. Wherever this room was.
Evidently they were, or at least his coat was, because the sound of his phone ringing finally registered and Danny flung himself toward it, extricating his phone from the folds of his coat. It was at this point he realized he was completely naked.
Well. Considering he couldn’t remember what had happened last night, that was probably a bad sign. He at least hoped the sex had been good.
“Hello?” he said thickly, pulling his boxers on.
“Daniel Messer!” Stella bellowed. It was really amazing how loudly she could yell.
“Uh…yeah?” Clothes. Get some clothes on before she tore him a new one across the phone.
“Where the hell are you?” She was angry. That was never a good sign.
“Are you leavin’ already?” the guy in the bed mumbled.
“Yes,” Danny said, as the beginnings of a hangover stretched out their dirty fingers and tickled at his brain. “Wait – what part of New York is this?”
The guy raised his head, eyes bloodshot. “This ain’t New York. This is Bayonne.”
“Shit!” Danny yelped in horror. “I’m in New Jersey?”
“You are so dead,” Stella said, in tones that brooked no argument. “Mac is going to kill you.”
“Oh, God, don’t tell Mac,” Danny gasped, visions of decapitation dancing in front of his eyes. “He’s already pissed at me, he’ll use all those crazy Marine skills and forensic knowledge to kill me fucking dead.”
“He’s worried about you,” Stella said shortly. “You know where Flack’s apartment is?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Get your ass over there stat. And bring your kit.”
*
“Where’s Danny?” Mac demanded as Stella came up the stairs.
“He’s going to be a little late,” Stella said dryly. “How late depends on trafic. Landlord still hasn’t shown?”
Mac gave her an odd look. “No,” he said. “Evidently the traffic is really bad.”
“Yeah, well, this is New York. The traffic is always bad. How do we know Flack isn’t dead or injured behind that door?”
“Heat sensor showed no sign of life and the security cameras caught three men wearing hoods carrying Flack out of the building.” Mac’s face was despondent.
Cold fear sent tingles up and down Stella’s spine. David Crehan, face bare and vloody, badge caught within the flesh of his throat. Vincent Patriso, strangled in his own living room. The mystery woman, garroted, head nearly severed from her body. A thousand dead bodies, dead a thousand ways. She didn’t want Flack to join them. “Is –”
“An alert’s been sent out,” Mac said tiredly. “If he’s on the street, they’ll find him.” He didn’t sound very convinced.
“I’m here, I’m here,” Aiden said, jogging up the stairs. “Sorry I’m late, traffic’s a –” She glanced around, saw the blood on the floor, and went white. “What’s goin’ on? Where’s Flack? Where’s Danny?”
Stella looked at Mac. “Flack’s been kidnapped,” she said when he didn’t speak. “Danny’s on his way.” Hopefully. I can’t believe he’s in fucking New Jersey.
“Oh, fucking fuck,” Aiden said, clenching her teeth. She dug in her pcket and came up with a brassy key on a keychain shaped like an NYPD detective’s badge. “Someone’s lookin’ for him, right? Out on the street? He’s not –”
“An alert’s been sent out,” Mac repeated. He turned and fit the key into the door. It jammed, then opened when he set his shoulder to it.
“Oh, motherfuck,” Stella said into the silence that followed. There was only one thing that pattern on the wall could be, and it wasn’t wallpaper.
Blood spatter.
And Chapter Eight.
Danny went up the stairs to Flack’s third story apartment slower than he would otherwise have done, unhappily aware of the greasy feel of his clean clothes against his unwashed body. He’d stopped at the Lab for a change of clothes and to pick up his kit, now, looking at the plainclothesmen and uniforms scattered through the lobby and halls of the apartment, he wasn’t sure he should’ve taken the time. Stella had said to bring his kit, though –
The carpet in the hall was a dirty shade of tan, the same that lined apartments nationwide. It took him a moment to recognize what the dark stains on it were, then his training and his common sense kicked in. They were taped off, and each was marked with a little yellow marker with a number on it. Blood. Leading down the hall. From Flack’s apartment.
Danny pushed open the door.
“Motherfuck, Danny,” Aiden yelped, re-holstering her gun from where it had been pointing at his face. “Next time knock or somethin’, alright? Jesus Christ, I could have fucking shot you.”
“What’s goin’ on?” Danny asked, taking a careful step forward and closing the door behind him. “Where’s Flack? Shouldn’t he know we’re goin’ through his apartment?” Except if he knew, then he was – Christ, they only called the Crime Scene Unit out for felonies or capital crimes. Usually homicides. And – was the blood spatter on the walls?
If Curly had anything to do with this, I’m going to break his fucking neck.
Aiden looked pained. “Didn’t Stella tell you anything, Danny?”
“No, she said somethin’ about having to run off – Aiden, what the hell’s goin’ on? Is Flack –” Dead hovered on his lips, but if he said it, that would make it true. He didn’t want –
“He’s missing,” she said shortly. “Kidnapped. Security cameras caught it, neighbor called it in when he heard a struggle and a gunshot.” She set her camera down on top of her kit while Danny was still processing this, taut with shock, and swung at him.
Her right hook caught him hard in the jaw. He took a few startled steps back, then raised his free hand to rub at the spot where her fist had connected. “What the hell was that for, Aiden?” Fuck, that was going to leave a bruise.
“You idiot!” she raged. “I was fucking worried about you – Christ, Flack was missing and you weren’t answering your fucking phone – New Jersey, Danny! Fucking Bayonne, New Jersey!”
She swung at him again, wildly, and this time Danny dodged her blow and grabbed her wrist. She was half-sobbing now. “You goddamned moron.”
“Aiden, I’m okay,” Danny said, half-believing it himself. “I’m –” not okay. I’m scared out of my fucking mind. “I’m not missing. I’m not – like Crehan.”
That didn’t help. Aiden wailed again – he wasn’t used to her crying, what the hell was he supposed to do now? – and then flung her arms around his neck. Danny hugged her awkwardly. “Aiden –”
She slapped him. At least this time it wasn’t a punch. Then she grabbed his collar and hauled him down to eye level. “You ever do anything like that again, Daniel Messer, and I’ll kill you so dead even Mac won’t be able to find your body.”
“Okay,” Danny said. “I – okay.”
She sniffled, then stepped back and wiped her nose. “Fuck you, Danny Messer, you ruined my makeup.”
“Uh –” He hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected that at all. “Right. New Jersey’s out of bounds then.”
“You got that right, you moron.” Aiden glared at him, then turned around and gestured at the room. “Crime scene.”
“I got that part. The crime tape might have had somethin’ to do with that.” Rubbing tentatively at his face – fuck, Aiden left bruises – Danny turned around to look at the blood spatter on the wall. “Don’t tell me that’s what I think it is, is it?”
Aiden leaned down and picked up her camera, then dug through her kit and pulled out an evidence bag. “Here’s the bullet I pulled out of the wall.” Her face was very, very still. She gestured at the tiny kitchen. “And the body’s in there.”
“What?” Flack wasn’t – she’d said kidnapped, not dead, it couldn’t be –
“Not Flack. We don’t have an ID yet, he’s kinda in pieces. Perp stuffed him into the dishwasher.” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s pretty fuckin’ gross. You and I and Flack, we’re goin’ apartment shopping when he gets back, you got that?”
Gets back. Like he was out on vacation or something. “Pieces?” Danny said faintly.
“A hand, both feet, lower body, an arm, torso, head.” Aiden dropped the bullet back into her kit. “Mac and Stella were here, but they had to go back and process the Patriso house. She said to tell you he doesn’t know.”
“Oh, God,” Danny said, dropping his head into his hands.
“You were really a Tanglewood Boy?” she asked after a moment, her voice small.
“You saw the tattoo, Aid.”
Her eyes old, Aiden looked at him for a long moment. “Next time you decide to get drunk and laid, at least stay in the fuckin’ city, Danny. We’ve got eight million people and God knows how many tourists. It shouldn’t be that hard to find someone who won’t take you outta state.”
*
Okay, I've gotta admit I agonized over whether or not to include the fifth body, then decided I wanted to use the shopping crack and needed to make sure there was a reason for the blood spatter and the bullet hole. Also, I couldn't figure out how to end it without including the body. Also, I had to justify the hand that Flack found in Snafu 5 somehow. Who does the body belong to? Damned if I know.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-24 02:59 am (UTC)I love it. I love it. If you weren't female, I think I'd probably ask your hand.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-25 01:14 am (UTC)