First Night


Who: Brett and Eris
Where: Out of town
When: Night

They'd left the town behind. They'd driven until they'd run out of gas the first time. Then they'd filled the tank back up with what they'd packed, though that hadn't given them a second full tank. She'd driven them until the car sputtered and died, and then she just let it coast until it came to a full stop on it's own. Then she stuck it in park, and eyed the odometer. It'd be a long walk back, if they were planning that. Which she knew they weren't. She'd gotten a wagon like she'd wanted in town, and that helped for hauling. Made it a lot easier on her to walk, pulling that along behind her with everything they needed. The terrain wasn't necessarily good, but it was good enough that Brett could cover ground. Most of the day had been spent quietly, really, til it came time for them to set up for the night. How much ground they'd actually managed to cover she didn't know. Didn't actually matter, one way or another, so she didn't ask, either.

She'd set up the tent, and started a low fire, all the while trying to ignore all the aches in her frame, and the fact that her feet felt like hell. She hadn't had time to break her boots in properly, so while nicely supportive and all that good shit--she knew she had blisters. Bad ones, and she knew more than one had burst during the course of the day. She just hadn't opted to say anything. She wasn't going to start bitching now. Drinking some water from the canteen that she'd been nursing most of the day, she finally sat down, and a moment later, she slumped over onto her side, back to the fire. Staring out at nothing, she wondered just how hard it would be to get to the tent. She could skip eating, right? She didn't feel hungry. She probably was, but her stomach wasn't necessarily happy with her. Maybe she'd sleep right where she was. Brett could have the tent, he'd like the privacy.

Brett wheeled out of the darkness, having taken himself away to deal with various matters in some privacy, coping better than he'd feared, all things considered. In fact, today had been better than he'd feared - he'd actually been able to keep going, which was the best he could ask for, in his opinion. Well, other than a proper road, or real civilisation. But, the day had been clear, if cold, and he couldn't stop the remembrance of why it was he'd once loved being outside so much.

"You don't want to go to sleep with your boots on. Or out here - the fire will die down overnight and the temperature's dropping by the minute," he told her as he stopped by the fire, looking at the girl whose name he still hadn't asked for, or received.

She hummed a vague, completely un-inflected answer to his statement. It didn't indicate she was agreeing or disagreeing, it was more just an acknowledgement that she had in fact, heard him. Whether she took the words on board or not remained to be seen. He was right, of course. But still, going over towards the tent would require movement. And taking her boots off was going to be painful. Plus, he'd probably see. She wasn't a fan of that.

Brett sat back in his chair and looked at her, internally sighing. "Get up," he told her, seriously. "Look, I have no wish to be out here with a dead body come morning, and you'd only be doing their job for them if you die of exposure, so get up." He wasn't going to break the habit of the last few years and actually be nice to her just because she doubtlessly hurt after today's walking. probably had blisters, would definitely have aching muscles. He knew how this one went for people who weren't used to it. She'd hurt come morning as well - as long as she was sensible enough not the fucking freeze to death before then.

"But you wouldn't have to worry about food. You could just eat me." she said, sounding as exhausted as she felt, but at least there was light, cynical humor in her tone. She gave a good think about pushing herself up, but didn't yet. Laying down was nice right now, and the fire was warm at her back. She would move, it just wasn't going to be this very second. "Speaking of...are you eating anything before bed?"

"Was never a fan of white trash - too gamey," Brett shot back, matching the edge of humour. "And yeah, we should eat - we've got some packet shit we can heat up if you're not up to anything else." his tone made it clear that he didn't think she would be up to anything else. "By the way, how're the blisters?" he asked, tone changing to sound like that was just a casual add-on question, assuming that she would definitely have them. He knew she would, that was just the way it went - even if he'd been aware that she'd not complained at all. He'd been watching her walking, after all.

At first, she quirked a little smile, and did manage to roll over so she could look at him, anyhow. "You say that now, but just wait. After a while you'll be thinking I look pretty good." she told him. She didn't look like she was up to anything more complicated than packet shit, if she ate at all, and she was going to comment on that and everything when he tossed that question on at the end. That had the smile dropping entirely, an immediate effect, and she looked away. "They're fine." she said, after at least two re-thought statements that she started but didn't finish.

Brett snapped the breaks on his chair, one followed by the other and then he lowered himself off the seat and onto the ground by her, taking the time and trouble to position his legs properly. It was warmer here, slightly closer to the fire, and in the darkness, he could see better, not needing the flashlight he'd been carrying so much, though if he looked directly at the fire, it hurt his eyes. Side on was the key, therefore. "Look, you're new to this. You're not used to the outdoors. You have walking boots that aren't properly broken in yet. We've gone a long way. You're gonna have blisters. And if we're gonna keep going, you need to take care of your feet - they're now the most important part of your body. If you have blisters and they burst, and if they get infected, you'll be in trouble. Best to look at them now, clean them up and dress them properly," he told her, though the sarcasm and bite was notably absent from his tone.

She watched him situate himself, not commenting quite yet. "I know it felt like more than one burst." she told him. She didn't actually know how to properly treat them. She just figured that they'd hurt like a bitch, and she'd deal with it. She pushed herself up to sitting, which took way more effort than she was happy about, and she reached out to tug at the laces of her boots, not happy about this in the slightest. "So what am I meant to do here exactly?" she asked, very, very lightly. Reluctantly.

"Would you like me to look at them for you?" Brett offered, following that up with, "It's to both our benefit that you can carry on walking," just to cover himself. Which was, in fact, the truth - if she got sepsis from infected blisters, they were fucked. And, sure, they'd brought antibiotics, but there was a limit, if things got really bad - prevention was better than cure.

She didn't answer him immediately, taking the time to remove her boots first, which hey! That was painful. She hesitated on her socks, because she could see patches that were discolored. That was in no way encouraging, and while it was childish and inane to not want to just finish the job and tug her socks off, she didn't do it immediately. "What're you going to do?" she asked first, to give herself time to let her feet get used to not being in the boots anymore. Though really, the reaction to that was a whole lot of bright pinpricks of pain. So...that wasn't helping her out much.

Brett twisted round to pull one of the bags down from the ones that hung off the back of his chair. It took him a few minutes because it was an awkward stretch and, naturally, the one he wanted was entangled with another. He flexed his jaw, his face set in unspoken frustration and he was starting to breath more heavily by the time he succeeded and the bag fell to the floor. He dragged it to him and opened it up, producing a heavy duty first aid kit that they'd put together. "Gonna wash it with saline and disinfectant, then dress it - cream'll just keep it moist and you want it to dry out, it'll heal quicker that way, but in the meantime, the dressing'll give you protection from nasties and stop your socks sticking to the wound. And it'll also give you padding so walking on it'll be less painful," he explained, refusing to acknowledge the frustration he felt at having such trouble doing something so simple as retrieving a fucking bag.

She watched him struggling a little, but felt no urge to help him with it. He could do it, it just took him slightly longer. Besides, they weren't really bitching at one another yet, and she wasn't up for starting at the moment. She nodded instead once he answered her, and she reached out to gingerly tug her socks off. Which really, if she didn't have to see the condition her feet were in, that would have been much better. As it was, she wasn't the type to look away, either, and therefore did see. Ew. Really there was no other, more accurate word for it. Just ew.

Brett winced as he took in the state of her feet and he moved himself closer to her, shifting his legs round and laying a clean paper towel from the kit in his lap before lifting up one of her feet and placing it gently on the towel. "Take some painkillers before you go to bed," he advised as he looked over her foot to see where was worst. "And make sure you drink enough," he added, not bothering to warn her that this was going to hurt as he started cleaning the sites. She was intelligent enough to know it was going to sting like a bitch, he was sure.

She didn't say anything, figuring that was sound advice that she would be taking. She did hiss though, teeth gritting as he started in. She reached for her canteen again and drank some water, eyes on what he was doing. She'd figured he'd done it quite a few times in his day, really, and the way he tended to her reflected that. He knew what he was doing. Even if it had been a while since he had, it was a skill that didn't really go away, she imagined. Or maybe he just made it look old hat, she wasn't sure. She just tried not to pull her foot back while he was doing things that hurt especially badly, even if he did make her twitch from time to time, and she was tensed up for most of it. She didn't quite make any hurt sounds, just that light little hiss now and then, and for everything else, she sank her teeth into her bottom lip.

Brett didn't even look up as she hissed, concentrating on cleaning up her foot, drying it off, getting rid of the moisture he'd alwys been warned would make it easier for infection to set in, then dressing the blisters with pads. Any unbroken blisters, he carefully drained before he cleaned and dressed them, leaving as much of the skin intact as possible. It was something he'd done thousands of times before, sitting by a fire, in the darkness. A lot of the time it had been his own feet he'd worked on, before calluses meant that they could stand up to most things - and before a fall off a cliff in the dark and snow meant he would never have to worry about walking his feet to ruin ever again. He tried not to think about his legs, now useful only as a resting place for her foot, as he swapped one foot for the other and started the whole thing again.

She leaned back on her hands, propping herself up, and then back on her elbows, because she was in fact, that fucking tired. The silence had stretched out for quite a while, and she let her mind drift, as she just kept watching him, studying him while he wasn't paying her any mind. Or, he was, just he was focused in on her foot, not the rest of her. "How far do you think we'll get?" she asked, voice not that overly loud, something she didn't know what it was in response to. The quiet between them, the darkness, some lingering belief that they were being watched...whatever it was, that's how her voice came out. Hushed.

"Well," Brett mused. "Depending on the terrain, and how your feet are in the morning, I'd like to be getting in around eight miles a day." He picked up a pad and stuck it over a cleaned and dried blister. "Of course, that assumes that there's no outside influence," he added, knowing very well that the question could as easily have been phrased as 'how far do you think they'll let us get'.

"I mean, how far until there's outside influence." Eris clarified, since that had been what she'd been getting at. "How far until they decide to start to play?" she asked. Since they'd both faced the idea that hey, they could be caught and tortured. Neither of them was all that cool with the idea, but it was better than the alternative. She didn't sound like she was especially caring what his answer might be, or that she was afraid of what might happen--truthfully she wasn't. She just wanted to know what kind of odds he gave them.

"I'm presuming at the moment they're wondering how far we'll get before we turn back. When they realise we're not going to then... Yeah. I give it until tomorrow evening, maybe Monday?" he suggested as he finished off her foot and put it gently back on the ground. He packed up the first aid kit again, bagging the used bits and tucking them inside the front pouch, a lifetime's habit meaning that he didn't leave waste behind. "Can you walk to get the food, or do you want me to go?" he asked, knowing he'd have to get back up into his chair to do that.

God, did she not want to get up. But, it would be easier and faster for her to do, so she pushed herself to her feet, and grit her teeth, supremely unhappy with the pains in her body. She gave herself a second to adjust, before she walked over to get them what they needed, then came back, actually sitting on the other side of him this time because it was closer. "Here." she said, handing over the bag, so he could get what he wanted. She still didn't feel that hungry, but knew she should probably eat something.

Brett took the bag from her and pulled out a pan for the fire and some silvery bag of something proclaiming to be edible. He had no doubt it'd taste like crap, but food was food and they'd need it for tomorrow - not to mention that something warm to eat would be a very good idea in the cold of the night. He ripped open the bag and dumped the contents in the pan before setting it to warm. "Any regrets about leaving?" he asked her, looking across at her.

Shaking her head, she started to curl up on her side again, head near Brett's knee. "No." she answered. "Not one." A little pain she could deal with. It would be temporary, and hey. It reminded her she was alive. It wasn't hiding in that house in that town with those people. That was getting to her. That was very much getting to her. And even if she could remain hidden...that wasn't the point. It didn't work for her. It was hardly an existence. So...this? This was infinitely better. "You?" she asked.

"No - no regrets," Brett told her. He couldn't have stayed there, not with it all closing in on him. He felt as if he could breathe out here, all this air, all this space. He tilted his head back and looked up at the expanse of stars above them, noting the differences in the constellations from what he would have normally seen. He looked back down again and sat forward, ferreting out a spoon to stir the food with, not wanting to get caught gazing at the stars.

She was quiet for a few moments, before she looked back up at him, seeing him looking up at the sky before he started messing with the food. It made her smile, just the faintest sort of bit. She didn't say anything for a few long moments. "Are you enjoying yourself?" she asked. She'd almost added a 'sweetheart' on the end of it, but didn't, and she edited out any humor from her tone. She was honestly curious, so she didn't especially want to set him off right now. She'd get more out of him that way, and it wasn't like it was a bad thing if he was. it was better than being back at the town. She sort of wondered about her own concept of enjoyment, at this point in her life. She wasn't sure she had one anymore. The one she'd had just didn't exist anymore.

Brett shot her a look. "I'm sitting in the middle of a plain, around a tiny fire, eating shitty food and getting ready for a cold night with a sleeping bag in a tent," he pointed out, which, really, was a side-step non-answer. But it was the one he gave.

She smiled more openly at him for that answer, and she laughed the faintest bit. "Yeah, and that doesn't necessarily mean it isn't enjoyable on some level, now does it?" she asked. "Especially knowing you." Then, she felt the need to amend that, though it was less because she thought she'd misworded, and more because she thought he would think she had. "Or, what I know you used to do. Back before we were fucked up lab rats." She stretched a little, arching her back til it cracked. "You just looked for a second like you might be."

Brett turned and rooted in the first aid kit until he found a small bottle of painkillers. He tossed them over to her, throwing gently so as to make for an easy catch. It gave him a moment or two longer to figure out what he was going to say, because he sure as hell wasn't going to tell her that, yes, he was enjoying it. Especially right now, where he could go for long moments where he could forget about what happened and that for the first time in possibly years he could get a snatch of that guy he used to be and though it stung like a fucking bitch when reality bit back in, those moments were just everything while they lasted. No way in hell was he telling her that. "Yeah, well, that town was a fucking nightmare - anything's better than that," he grumbled in the end.

She took the bottle of painkillers, and went to open the bottle, but then paused and got up to go get her medication. She had a couple of pills to take before bed anyways, might as well pop them all now. So she took a few moments, swallowing down medication of one description or another, before she curled back up. "You're allowed to, you know." she said, as if there hadn't been a few minute lapse in their conversation. "I was just kind of thinking to myself I don't know if I have a concept of it anymore. Enjoyment, I mean." she said thoughtfully, eyes on the fire. It was leaving bright green afterimages streaking her vision, but she didn't really need to see anything clearly right now anyhow.

"I know I'm allowed - but thank you for your permission," Brett told her, though he bit back most of the sarcasm in an attempt to keep things civil - they had to live in each other's pockets now, after all. It wasn't showing enjoyment that he had issue with - it was showing weakness, vulnerability. Any of that shit that wasn't going to claw its way to the surface. "What did you do before? For enjoyment?" he asked, flipping the conversation back to her.

She didn't answer for a few moments, listening to the fire pop, and she closed her eyes, pillowing her head on her arm. Probably not the best of plans, because it made her even sleepier, but she couldn't be bothered not to. It was comfortable, damnit. And half of her was warm. "Broke people." she murmured. "Pushed buttons. Saw how far people went. They're fragile. Or...most people were. Are. So many of was all too easy. People...they look for it, half the time. They just want a little taste. And even if they know that it'll cost them, they can't resist going for it anyways." she said, voice soft. Not nostolgic at all, in fact it was fairly emotionless in inflection. "Like...the guys who were otherwise perfectly happily married, but if there was the idea of an affair...something supposedly exotic in their eyes, the idea that they'd never get caught, that their wife would never know...they never really seemed to pause long enough to understand that they would. Give people even the smallest amount of rope, and...most of the time they'll hang themselves with it. I was there to provide the rope."

Brett watched her, listening, giving her his attention. He was quiet for a few moments after she'd stopped talking as he considered what she'd said. "And that was fun for you?" he asked, clearly slightly puzzled by the concept.

She had to think about that. "I don't know." she said after a few moments. "I was good at it. I see the darker side of human clearly." she continued, voice still light, almost distant. Almost detached. Maybe it was, because she was looking back at it and could see it, she was like watching something that had happened to someone else. Like a film. "And the weak points. I could see all those too. But...I don't know. Maybe. Or maybe it wasn't, and that was just what I did. I can't tell anymore." she said honestly.

"But you said you did it for the enjoyment," Brett pointed out. "So you must have got that from it at some point. Seems a fucked up thing to enjoy - screwing with people's lives. Or did you just get off on the power trip?" He'd known some of this, of course. He knew she'd been put into her experiment to fuck with people, they'd just never really gone into any depth on the subject. or any subject, really. They knew surprisingly little about each other. Or, maybe that wasn't so surprising. But still, he knew enough to know that was layering on top of his usual reluctance to share about himself, even now when they'd established the groundwork of what could be referred to as a relationship.

"Maybe I did at one point. And it is fucked up." she agreed. "But I never claimed I wasn't. I think mostly what I was good at was seeing really ugly truth. And I could twist that around to show people whether they wanted to or not." she said. "I don't know what I got off on. Looking back at it now, it was...another life." she said. "And I remember it. ...or most of it, and it's like thinking about a different person. So now I just don't know anymore. I don't have a concept." she said. "Why is it you don't seem to judge me?" she asked, shifting slightly to look up at him, though it was a weird angle, and her vision was still mostly eaten up by the bright afterimages of the firelight. "I can't figure that part out."

"Who says I don't?" Brett retorted, though there was no suggestion there that he was really correcting her. He shook his head. "Look, darling - I write off everyone I meet before they can do it to me anyhow. So, you could just say I put you on a level playing field."

"I said seem." Eris said, watching him. She was quiet for a few moments, milling that over. "And level playing field or not...I've told you more than you want to know about me. And I don't see that flicker of revulsion on your face, or the disgust anywhere. So, either you're really amazingly good at hiding it...or for some reason you're not repulsed on principal. So, I just wanted to know why it seemed like you don't judge me, even when you have the facts."

"Maybe because you speak in past tense all the time," Brett said, considering that. "And I know better than most people that what you might once have been, that doesn't mean that you're that anymore. I know I don't understand it - what would make someone want to do that, where that drive comes from." he paused and looked away, towards the fire as he removed the pot, trying not to look directly into the flames. "Or - maybe I just don't give a shit, one way or another," he said as he sat the pot down between them and handed her a spoon.

A light little frown flickered over her features. "Do I?" she asked. "I talk in the past tense?" She hadn't recognized that. She didn't think he'd tell her that, though, unless she did. She reached out for the spoon, and rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin on her hand. She took a small spoonful to eat, swallowing down what he'd made without really tasting it. "And I know you don't care." she added thoughtfully, tone light. "It's just odd that you know, and don't have that gut instinct to hate me for it, or at the very least reject me for it, find me repugnant."

"Yeah, you talk in the past tense. What you did, what you enjoyed - you talk like you were someone else then." It didn't inspire him to trust her for it, but that was something very slightly different. "And like I said - I hate everyone, write them off as idiots generally. So why would I need a special snowflake reason just for you?" he asked, taking a large mouthful of food and swallowing it as quickly as he could to stop the taste - or lack thereof - lingering.

"You wouldn't need one, you just had a very valid one presented to you. Gift wrapped and everything, and for some reason you haven't taken it, or you don't appear to have." Eris said, taking another bite. She was quiet for a few moments as she stared off into a middle distance. "You didn't say that, by the way. That you hate everyone. You said you write them off. Which, I think you do. But I don't think you hate everyone." she added. "I think everyone annoys you, and you generally don't like people anymore, but I don't think it's graduated to hate."

"I don't have to justify myself to you. And you're starting to sound like you want me to find you despicable," Brett said, an edge of defensiveness entering his tone. he didn't rise to the rest though, to the way she'd yet again tried to read him. She kept doing that, making assumptions. Then again, he knew he didn't volunteer a whole lot of information to prevent that.

"I have trouble understanding why you don't." Eris said. "I wanted to know why. I've thought about it a lot, and it doesn't seem to add up to me. I'm missing something. I thought I would ask before I keep trying to figure it out on my own. Couldn't hurt anything, right sweetheart?" she asked, taking another bite before she set her spoon down. She propped her head on her hand, eyes out into the darkness behind them. "And maybe I do." she mused belatedly, the statement almost seeming disconnected to the rest of their conversation.

"Well, good luck in trying to figure it out then," Brett told her, determinedly and bloody-mindedly sticking to not giving her shit in that regard. "Maybe one day you'll figure it out. In the meantime, you should eat more than a couple of mouthfuls," he advised, taking some more food for himself.

"And maybe one day, you'll actually talk a little about yourself. Might be novel." Eris said, and she eyed the food for a moment, before she took another bite. "I'm not really feeling that hungry." she admitted. "How much will I have to eat so that I'll be less inclined to pass out tomorrow?" she asked, since she didn't really know anything about this, and he did. So, she figured he might know, or he'd at the very least give her a decent estimate.

"I'd say a good third - but that's only because I need more than you do to keep going. And I'm gonna make you eat in the morning as well. How novel. But we'll eat - and then we'll sleep." Brett paused, consideringly. "Wanna talk about watches? And whether we're taking them?" he suggested.

Eris took another bite and shrugged one shoulder, swallowing the food down still not really tasting it, or liking it. "Well, I suppose that depends on what we're looking for." she said. "If we're looking for scientist ninjas to come out of the dark and nab us, I'd say we have an extremely low chance of doing anything but getting ourselves fucked up in the process of trying to defend ourselves. ...that and I don't think we'd ever see them coming, even if one of us was up and alert. Animals...that could be a concern. But...and I don't know about you on this, I am exhausted. I think for a while I'd be useless on watch anyhow." she told him, opting for honesty there because lying about it would do nothing but hurt them in the long run. That and she hadn't really taken to lying to him much, so she wasn't really feeling now was the appropriate time to start.

"I was talking about the scientists - though probably not about ninjas," Brett allowed, allowing a smile to grace his face as she moved them off the subject of why he didn't loathe and vilify her. He was glad about that, since he had no intention of going into it. Trust was a strange thing. In some ways he trusted her - because he had to. Because they were here, and alone, and no matter how much he hated it, he was at least somewhat reliant on her. But, in other things, he wouldn't trust her as far as he could throw her. And that wasn't being tested or likely to change any time soon. "Wild animals should be fine if we build the fire up and don't leave any food around." And sleep with the guns available, just in case. But that went for the scientists as well. "Though, if the scientists - ninjas or not - do decide to come for us, I'm sure they'll do it in numbers enough that we won't stand a chance."

When he smiled, she smiled back at him, a quirked, amused little expression. "Well, if they come and I get a chance, I'm firing at the first fuckers I see anyways. Then they can take me down and we can start in on fun happy torture land times. It'll be great." she said, with a slight bit more of life to her than she'd had since they stopped. "But I think they'll send ninjas. Y'know, little black ops guys, all dressed in black and moving silently. Hovering outside the tent watching and just waiting, probably laying bets on who gets their balls blown off first and how many shots will get fired before they immobilize us." she said. "Ninjas."

"I'd say remind me not to sneak up on you in the night - but can't see that happening anyway," Brett commented, recognising his own opinion on how things would go down in her reply. He took another couple of spoonfuls of the rapidly cooling food.

She ate a few more bites in silence, stopping when she thought she'd gotten to the requisite third he'd told her she should eat. Then she set her spoon down again, and reached for her canteen. "I'm pretty sure I'll be aware of where you are at all times, so you don't have to worry." she told him. "But scientist-ninjas are forfeit. So, are we skipping watches then?" she asked. "At least until I have worked up a better stamina?"

Content that she'd eaten enough, Brett took up the pot and hurriedly finished off the rest before it was stone cold. "Yeah, we'll skip watches," he agreed, picking up her fork and adding his own to the now-empty pot, together with the spoon he'd been stirring with earlier. He twisted and hung them both from a hook he'd attached to the arm of his chair before they left and then manoeuvred himself backwards and up into the wheelchair. "I'm gonna go clean these out," he told her, wanting to do that away from the camp.

She nodded. "Okay. I'm going to go lie down. Want me to stoke the fire up a little before I do that?" she asked, pushing herself up better, since she was going to be moving here. God she hurt. She was going to suck in the morning. But she'd get up, she'd not complain, she'd keep moving. It was only temporary. It'd stop eventually.

"Yeah, do that," Brett agreed. He was wondering what they were going to do for firewood when they ran out of what they'd brought with them and the bits they'd found on the way. It was hardly like there were trees around. But, they'd think of something - they'd have to. And they always had the little camping stove to be able to cook on. That was being preserved for now though, whilst they had a fire. "Be back in a bit," he added, before clicking on his flashlight and heading out once more into the darkness.

Eris did her best to stoke up the fire as well as she could, and then she just crawled over to the tent, unzipping it as she crawled inside. There were the two sleeping bags, and she picked one at random, leaving the flap open for when Brett returned. The ground was uncomfortable but she barely felt it, her exhaustion a much heavier force to be reckoned with than just sleeping on the ground. Hopefully Brett got sleep...especially since she rather wondered how he'd do with his whole privacy issues thing. She didn't care, but he did. It'd be interesting to see if he was just as bad off tomorrow as she was, only for different reasons.