Chapter Two-hundred Twenty-Seven: Oh, Peahave

Chapter 227

Oh, Peahave

That afternoon, Celeste stepped out of the shower. She leaped into bed and wrapped herself in his sheets. Fabien strolled into his room wearing his green plaid pajama pants. He smiled at her, climbed into bed with her, wrapping his arms around her. He brushed his face over her neck, and she burst out laughing as his stubble tickled her.

Celeste: “Hahahahahaha!”

Fabien smiled at her.

Fabien: “Like that?”

He lowered his head down to her boobs, brushing his stubble against her brown tips. She yelped and laughed.

Celeste: “WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FAHAHAHAHAHAB!”

She laughed hard and shivered.

He trailed his jawline against her soft body, hearing her sweet laughter. He rubbed his face on her feet, and she squealed with laughter.

Celeste: “WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! WAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!”

She threw her head back and pounded on the pillows. He locked his gaze on her and crawled up to put his arms around her. The two inched closer together and shared a deep kiss.

~

The bathroom mirror was completely fogged over, a dense wall of white steam courtesy of a shower that had run a few minutes too long. Fabien wiped a broad circle clear with the side of his fist, revealing his reflection.

Two days of white, coarse stubble shadowed his jawline. It wasn't quite a beard—just rough enough to itch, and sharp enough to scratch when he leaned in to greet anyone—time to get rid of it.

He turned on the tap, letting the water run until it was hot enough to sting, then splashed his face a few times to soften the bristles. Next came the shaving cream. He pressed the nozzle of the can, catching a dollop of thick, clean-scented white foam in his palm. With both hands, he worked it into his skin, massaging it against the grain until his jaw, chin, and upper lip were completely buried under a neat, snowy mask.

Fabien picked up his razor. The blades were fresh, catching the bright bathroom light. He started at the sideburns, drawing the razor down his cheek in a single, smooth stroke. A clean track of skin appeared in the foam.

The sound was a satisfying, raspy crunch as the blades sliced through the stubble at the surface. He rinsed the razor under the running tap, watching the foam and dark flecks of hair swirl down the drain, before starting the next pass.

The jawline required a bit more finesse. He tilted his head back, pulling the skin tight with his free hand, and guided the razor carefully over the sharp angle of his bone. He moved to the upper lip, tensing his mouth to flatten the skin beneath his nose, clearing the mustache area with a few short, deliberate strokes.

Finally, the chin—the trickiest part. He navigated the contours slowly, ensuring the blade didn't catch or nick.

Once the last patch of white foam was scraped away, Fabien cupped his hands under the faucet and splashed his face with cold water to close his pores and wash away the remnants. He grabbed a clean towel and patted his skin dry.

He looked back into the mirror. The shadow was gone, replaced by smooth skin and a slight, healthy flush from the blade. He rubbed his hand upward against his jaw. Perfect. Clean, smooth, and ready for the day.

Celeste stood in the doorway and smiled as she watched him.

~

Deimos landed before AuraCare Pharmacy. He wore a gray tank top, torn jeans, and cowboy boots. He stepped inside and went straight to the pharmacy.

Deimos: “I’m picking up a prescription for Monica Thompson.”

He told the pharmacist. He nodded.

Pharmacist: “Just a few minutes, Deimos.”

Deimos nodded and went to the “One Hour Photo” desk.

Deimos: “Are my photos ready?”

He asked the old, balding white guy behind the desk. He inhaled sharply and handed Deimos his photos. Deimos beamed when he snatched them from his hand.

Pharmacist: “Her drugs are here, Deimos!”

He called out. Deimos ran to the pharmacist, grabbed the drugs, and paid for them. He quickly zipped out of the pharmacy. He set the paper bag of Monica’s medicine on the curb and quickly opened the envelope.

Inside were various pictures of Tristan showing off his feet. Deimos grinned as he thumbed through the pictures. He smiled at the picture he snapped of Tristan’s feet poking out from the covers while he slept. He grinned at the picture of Tristan’s Wingtip Oxfords he took in his mudroom. “That’s a sight for sore eyes,” he heard a honeyed male voice say.

Deimos turned to glare at Vasilos, who smiled at the pictures of Tristan. Vasilos wore a pink button-down shirt, an Italian white sports jacket, a loosened light purple tie, white pants, and white loafers.

Deimos: “Yeah, and he’s not yours! He’s MINE!”

He bellowed. Vasilos scoffed.

Vasilos: “Deimos, man, what is wrong with you to cheat on a fine man like him? You really are a loser like your brother.”

He smirked. Deimos bared his teeth and stomped his foot.

Deimos: “I am NOTHING like Lazaros! Jaxon seduced me! I made a mistake! Lazaros doesn’t even love any of his partners! He was going to let Ashley drown in that lake; I had to save them!”

He rasped. Vasilos rolled his eyes.

Vasilos: “A surprise to no one, except that fat girlfriend, right?”

He said smugly.

Deimos: “Now EX.”

He corrected him. Vasilos snorted.

Vasilos: “Again?”

Deimos nodded.

Deimos: “Yes. He has a new one now. She won’t last.”

Vasilos wagged his head.

Vasilos: “Lazaros has never changed.”

Deimos: “What about you? You fucked it up with Andrew. He left you on your wedding day!”

He shot back firmly and pointed at him. Vasilos’ smile faded.

Vasilos: “Listen, fuckhead! Andrew couldn’t handle me! I didn’t cheat on him! You cheated on Tristan so that you can stuff it!”

He fired back. Deimos glared at him.

Deimos: “I MADE A MISTAKE!”

Vasilos: “No, it was you being an insecure asshat, Deimos!”

He countered.

Deimos: “Takes one to know one!”

He snapped and stomped his foot. Vasilos rolled his eyes.

Vasilos: “I’m not insecure! Andrew couldn’t handle my confidence! Maybe he should have settled for a loser like YOU and LAZAROS!”

He said acidly.

Deimos lunged at Vasilos and started socking him. Vasilos shoved Deimos off with his foot and threw punches at him. The two men resumed brawling in the pharmacy parking lot.

~

Jordi was driving home that late afternoon after finishing his shift. He wore his black suit, white pressed shirt, black tie, and black zip-up boots. He pulled into his driveway and stepped out of his car. As he entered his house, he unbuttoned his suit jacket, shrugged out of it, and knelt to unzip his boots. He slid his feet out, revealing his sheer dress socks. He saw Ashley working in the kitchen and noticed a variety of peacock cupcakes, macarons, and a peacock cake on the counter.

Jordi: “Well, what have we here?”

He smiled and embraced them from behind. Ashley shivered and melted into his touch, gently caressing his hands around them.

Ashley: “Hehe, hello there! This peacock guy hired me to bake for his birthday party!”

They chirped and glanced up at him, kissing his cheek to greet him. Jordi pecked their lips and tickled their tummy. Ashley lunged forward into a peal of giggles.

Ashley: “HEHEEHEHEHAHEEHHEHEHEH! JORDIIIII!”

They giggled. Jordi laughed and dug his fingers into their soft tummy. Ashley purred and melted as he touched them there. They closed their eyes over and hummed, rubbing up against him like a cat and delicately stroking the soles of their feet along his sheer-socked feet. Jordi bit his bottom lip and tickled their tummy with his fingertips. Ashley gasped and broke out into laughter.

Ashley: “HehehHEHEHEHEHEHEHE HAHAHAHAHAHHA EHEHEHEHEHEEEEEEE!”

They breathlessly beamed with joy and arousal.

Jordi raised his eyebrows and beamed.

Jordi: “Like that, huh?”

He purred. Ashley bit their lip and nodded intently. They then spun around on their heel to face him, kissing him on the lips. Jordi closed his eyes and kissed them back, cupping their tummy in his hands. Ashley shivered all over and giggled, tracing their fingertips down his chest and giving him a little tickle. Jordi laughed and drew back.

Jordi: “HehehahAHAHAHAHAA!”

He laughed and shivered. Ashley beamed at him and nestled up against him in an embrace. He wrapped his arms around them and gazed into their eyes.

Jordi: “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He began, resting his forehead on theirs.

Ashley: “Oh? Sure, Jordi, what do you wanna talk about?”

They tilted their head at him with a smile.

Jordi: “We’ve been getting really close, haven’t we?”

He asked softly.

Ashley: “Hehe, yes!”

They smiled widely and nodded their head. Jordi smiled and cleared his throat.

Jordi: “So…, did you ever… think about sharing a bedroom?”

He asked them. Ashley paused and swallowed hard.

Ashley: “...W-Would you want to do that?”

They asked in a small voice, recalling how reluctant Lazaros was to do that. Jordi pursed his lips.

Jordi: “I know I get up early every weekday because of my work, but… I love being with you, and having you in my arms is all.”

He replied gently. Ashley froze, and their face turned a deep shade of crimson as they felt a warm sensation in their heart.

Ashley: “...R-REALLY?!”

They were on the verge of tears. Jordi nodded and smiled.

Ashley: “I love being with you, too, and I wanna be in your arms, too! I like getting up at sunrise and making you breakfast! I like sunrise and waking up to you….”

They beamed. Jordi smiled.

Jordi: “So is that a yes?”

Ashley’s eyes grew large, and they eagerly nodded, wrapping their arms around him and kissing him.

Ashley: “YES!”

They exclaimed. Jordi kissed them back.

Jordi: “I’m overjoyed…”

He whispered. Ashley shivered at his whispers.

Ashley: “Hehehe, me, too!”

They beamed.

Jordi: “We’ll keep the space downstairs should you need space from Grandpa, and some nights I might not come home.”

He lowered his head. Ashley nodded.

Ashley: “Sure, we can keep that space for both of us!”

They stroked his hand. Jordi took their hand and kissed it. Ashley gazed lovingly into his Byzantine eyes.

~

Tristan was in his bedroom reading a book on his couch. He wore a black waistcoat, a light purple pressed shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black pants, and black sheer socks. He heard a gentle knock on the door. Tristan knew it wasn’t Deimos.

Tristan: “Come in.”

He said gently. The door opened, and he raised his head to see Lena. She wore a pink floral dress with short, puffy sleeves that fell to her knees. She carried a basket in her arms,

Tristan: “Hello, Lena.”

He nodded.

Lena: “Hi, Tristan.”

She said shyly. She sauntered to the couch and sat beside him. She placed the basket on his lap. He smiled and lifted the cloth to see a dozen blueberry muffins. He raised his eyebrows.

Tristan: “My goodness, my favorite!”

He marveled. Lena blushed.

Lena: “I love making them for you.”

Tristan set the basket on the floor, slowly peeled the muffin liner away, and ate one. He hummed as he ate.

Tristan: “My God, Lena, these are delectable.”

He said breathlessly. Lena reddened.

Lena: “Thanks, Tristan.”

She brushed her hair behind her ear.

Tristan finished his muffin and smiled at her.

Tristan: “Is something troubling you?”

He asked her as he gazed at her. She stared down at her bare feet next to his.

Lena: “I don’t know, it might seem silly to you.”

She sighed. Tristan pursed his lips.

Tristan: “I doubt that very much. Talk to me.”

He said gently. Lena drew a breath.

Lena: “I like Ashley a lot, and they are very nice, but… I miss making breakfast for my big brother. I miss making dinner for him and doing stuff for him.”

She said, fiddling with her locket.

Tristan: “Well, how about you discuss this with Ashley, and perhaps you could come to a compromise?”

He began.

Tristan: “You could have certain days where you make breakfast, and they can have the remaining days? I am certain they wouldn’t mind doing that.”

He nodded. Lena smiled a bit.

Tristan: “How about… You make dinner for me tonight?”

He suggested. Lena’s face lit up.

Lena: “You want me to make dinner for you?!”

Tristan: “Yes, of course!”

Lena rose.

Lena: “Okay, what would you like?”

Tristan locked his gaze on her.

Tristan: “Chicken fettuccine Alfredo!”

Lena nodded.

Lena: “Sure, I can do that! Leave it to me!”

She sang and promptly left his bedroom.

~

Tristan entered the dining room. On the table were two glasses: one had wine, and the other had sparkling cider. Lena came out with two plates of chicken fettuccine alfredo and some fresh rolls. She placed them on the table. Tristan pulled out a chair for her. She thanked him, and the two sat down. They raised their glasses and touched them. Tristan began eating his pasta and hummed.

Tristan: “Oh my, Lena, this is the best fettuccine alfredo I’ve ever had.”

He said breathlessly. Lena flushed red, tucked her hair behind her ear, and sipped on her sparkling cider. Tristan chuckled at her demeanor and gazed at her as he sipped on his wine.

~

Tristan stood outside on his backyard patio. He folded his arms as he listened to the water flowing from the rocks into his pool. Lena sauntered out and gazed at him. She gingerly approached him. She got a waft of his cologne as she drew closer. She always loved inhaling that wonderful scent.

He peered over his shoulder and smiled at her.

Tristan: “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

Lena paused and smiled.

Lena: “Yes!”

Tristan strolled over to the patio swing. She followed him, and the two sat down. Her heart thundered in her chest.

Lena: “Tristan?”

Tristan: “Yes?”

Lena fiddled with her locket.

Lena: “Do you think… some days I could make breakfast for you?”

She asked meekly. Tristan’s smile spread to show his even white teeth.

Tristan: “I’m honored and would be delighted, Lena.”

He said genially. Lena’s byzantine eyes glittered as euphoria filled her.

Lena: “Okay! I can get a cab here at the crack of dawn! What do you like for breakfast?!”

She asked enthusiastically. Tristan cupped his chin.

Tristan: “Let me see… I love pancakes, bacon, sausages, and sometimes toast, but pancakes and sausages are my go-to. I prefer them as sausage patties.”

Lena nodded eagerly.

Lena: “Okay, sure!”

Lena: “And what tea do you prefer in the morning?”

Tristan: “Anything highly caffeinated.”

He said half-jokingly.

Tristan: “Vanilla orchid black tea is fine.”

Lena felt butterflies form in her stomach as her anticipation grew.

~

Celeste watched Fabien in the bathroom as he examined himself in the mirror. He wore his Danny Donger’s uniform consisting of hot pants, calf socks, and sneakers.

Celeste: “You’re not going to work at Danny Donger’s tonight?”

Fabien shook his head.

Fabien: “Nope. Fen paid us to cater to him for his birthday party at Miss Peahaven.”

He spritzed on some cologne.

Celeste: “When are you coming home?”

Fabien: “When it’s done.”

He smiled at her and cupped her face to kiss her.

Celeste: “Okay.”

She smiled a bit.

~

The neon of Little Tokyo did not merely illuminate the dusk; it bled into it, painting the Pink Top City evening in screaming shades of electric crimson and cobalt. Standing as a gaudy sentinel of a bygone era, Miss Peahaven throbbed with a restless, mechanical vitality. Its facade was a towering, chaotic monument of light—a geometric constellation of flashing stars and jagged borders that framed a stylized, neon-crafted dancer perpetually kicking her leg into the warm night air. The words “Miss Peahaven” sat blazoned in the middle in a massive, angled font, its fiery red glow casting long, distorted reflections across the asphalt below.

Directly beneath the blazing marquee, the digital ticker tape crawled forward with endless, blocky promises of “100 Sexy Guys and Girls” and “Special VIP Parties,” its cold white lettering a stark contrast to the warm, bleeding red of the tubes above. The entrance itself was a dark, recessed cavern, flanked by illuminated posters of silhouetted Miss Peahaven guys and girls—a threshold that promised an escape from the mundane into something altogether more hedonistic, or at least louder.

To the right, the streetscape devolved into the familiar grit of downtown commerce. A record shop window peeked out, plastered with flyers for house music, hip-hop, and reggae, while the harsh, uninviting fluorescent glow of a payday loan outlet cut through the darkness beside it.

The inside of the club was bustling with all walks of life. It was a neon labyrinth, a geometric cage of polished chrome poles and harsh, electric blue LED strips that traced every seam. From above, the red spotlights burned down like angry eyes through the smoke, casting the narrow central carpet a color like old blood.

A broad back in faded red cotton and tight denim led a procession down the central crimson aisle, disappearing into the hazy blue heat towards a distant, pulsating glow. Others loitered in the gaps—two men, casual and tense, watching a woman in the center distance who began a slow, practiced ascent up one of the gleaming poles. In the far-right corner, a shadow with a beard detached from the wall, moving with the predatory grace of someone who owned the night.

At the end of the club was a shimmering teal green banner across the stage that read, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FEN!” There were tables of peacock-themed cupcakes, cookies, and cakes. Several Danny Donger’s boys were going around the club with trays of food to bring out to the guests. Lily was dancing to the music, wearing a pink shirt with a teddy bear on it, a diaper, and a pacifier in her mouth.

There was a large peacock poster on the stage. Fen suddenly burst through it. There was a round of applause followed by a roar of “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FEN!” Fen wore a dark green coat with a cream, fluffy fur trim, a teal silk button-down shirt, green leather pants, and brown double-monk-strap shoes.

Fen: “THE MAN IS HERE!”

He cheered.

Fen: “Let’s really get this party started!”

He flopped down on the green lounge, with his arm around a man and a woman on each side of him.

Fabien came out with a bottle of Dom Pérignon champagne in a bucket of ice set on a tray.

Fabien: “For the birthday boy!”

He smiled. Fen’s jaw dropped at the sight of Fabien.

Fen: “Helloooooo, handsome!”

He wolf-whistled. Fabien beamed.

Fabien: “Hey, honey!”

He winked. Fen gasped.

Fen: “I-I have a request!”

He said breathlessly.

Fabien: “Sure, what’s up?”

Fen: “I want to drink that from your feet!”

He panted. His boner pressed against his leather pants. Fabien smirked.

He knelt to untie his sneakers and kicked them off. He then pulled off his socks and got up on stage, looking down at Fen. Fen looked up at Fabien. His eyes were dark, reflecting the erratic flashes of blue and purple strobe lights filtering through the curtain.

Fabien popped the cork with a muted thwip—a sound lost to the club’s roar.

Fabien lifted his leg and shoved his foot into Fen's mouth. With agonizing slowness, Fabien tilted the bottle and poured the pale, effervescent liquid directly down his leg. The champagne cascaded down the pale skin, bubbling furiously. The sharp, crisp scent of green apple and toasted brioche cut through the heavy smell of expensive cologne and fog-machine vapor.

Leaning forward, Fen caught Fabien’s ankle with one hand, his grip firm, anchoring him, and gulping down the champagne as he sucked on his foot.

Above him, he heard the sharp, sudden intake of Fabien’s breath. Fen’s tongue traced the curve of his arch to catch the last lingering sweetness. Fen looked up, his lips wet and catching the blue neon light.

Fabien stared down at him, his green eyes wide, the pupils completely dilated. A slow, wicked smile spread across Fabien’s face as he reached down, his fingers tangling in Fen’s hair, pulling just hard enough to make Fen tilt his head back.

Fabien: “Good boy…”

He whispered.

Fen sat back, panting and smiling widely.

He raised his head and was surprised to see Percy arrive with Jaxon on his arm. Percy wore a three-piece green silk suit with peacock feathers on the right shoulder, a teal vest, a white, pressed shirt, a teal-blue silk cravat, and black shoes. Jaxon wore a red snakeskin sports jacket, a black button-down shirt, black leather pants, and black Chelsea boots.

Fen: “Percy! You came! What a lovely surprise!”

He beamed.

Percy: “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, darling.”

He chuckled.

Percy: “I am curious what deal you made with Zhaolin. I am well aware that negotiating with her is not an easy task.”

He smirked. Fen smiled tightly.

Fen: “Hey, I manage.”

Percy: “I bet you do.”

Fabien: “Hey, Percy!”

He waved. Percy beamed and wrapped his arms around Fabien. Jaxon gaped at what he saw.

Percy: “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

He whispered.

Jaxon: “What’s THIS?!”

He snapped.

Percy and Fabien turned to Jaxon.

Jaxon: “Why are you with HIM like that?!”

He cried. Fabien shifted his eyes.

Percy: “Jaxon, darling, whatever Fabien and I had is in the past, love. I am all about you now. I am only catching up with a friend.”

Jaxon shook his head.

Jaxon: “BULLSHIT! She said the same, and now she chose HIM over ME!”

He said as tears welled in his eyes. Percy drew a long breath.

Percy: “I am not Celeste, Jiro. Don’t be like this, please.”

He said with irritation.

Jaxon: “WHY NOT?! She did it! Everyone else did it, so who’s to say you won’t either?!”

He bawled. Fabien cleared his throat and left the two alone.

Percy rubbed his temples.

Percy: “Jiro, listen to me, honey. I only have eyes for you. When was the last time I slept with anyone who wasn’t you?”

He asked firmly but gently as he held his arms.

Jaxon: “I need space.”

Fen rushed to him and grabbed his arm. Percy sneered at him.

Fen: “You need to stay!”

In a flash, Percy slammed Fen against the wall.

Percy: “Don’t you EVER touch him.”

He growled. Fen trembled in his grasp.

Fen: “S-Sorry, just want to make my guests feel welcome!”

He murmured. Percy laughed.

Percy: “Why do I very much doubt this?”

Fen smiled awkwardly. Percy threw him down.

Jaxon watched the scene and looked away, smiling. He turned to Percy and blushed.

Jaxon: “Thank you…”

He said softly. Percy smiled at him and traced his thumb on his jawline.

Jaxon: “I’m sorry I snapped.”

He locked his gaze on him. Percy leaned down, and the two kissed.

As the upbeat dance music blared from the speakers, people started dancing and bouncing to it. Jaxon ducked to the bar and sat down. He made eye contact with the middle-aged black bartender.

Jaxon: “Jack and Coke.”

He nodded. The bartender nodded and started making his drink for him. Jaxon withdrew his package of cigarettes, took one out, and lit it up. He placed a glass of Jack and Coke in front of Jaxon. He thanked him and took a sip.

Fabien sat by him.

Fabien: “Beer. Whatever is on tap.”

The bartender nodded. He took a beer mug and pulled the nozzle, filling his mug with beer. He placed it in front of Fabien. Fabien took out a package of cigarettes, lit one up, and inhaled a long drag.

Fabien: “The fuck is your problem?”

He asked Jaxon. Jaxon turned to him with a scowl.

Jaxon: “You are, fuckhead! It was always YOU!”

He rasped. Fabien sneered at him.

Fabien: “I apologized to you!”

Jaxon: “Your apologies suck!”

He fired back.

Fabien: “What do you want Celeste and me to keep doing? Apologizing and getting us nowhere? We’re not going to keep it up forever, Jiro!”

He snapped.

Jaxon glared hotly at Fabien.

Jaxon: “YOU stole her from ME! We had a good thing going until YOU came along, and now she doesn’t want to be near me!”

He barked. Fabien glowered at him.

Fabien: “Oh, here we go again! Jiro blames SOMEONE ELSE for his fuck-ups!”

He threw his hands up.

Fabien: “I didn’t steal Celeste from you! She came to me because she was SICK of you moping about a girl who wasn’t even your girlfriend! She was someone you barely knew! Tristan knew her longer, and he’s not sitting around feeling sorry for himself!”

He flared. Jaxon’s face contorted with rage.

Jaxon: “She died because of ME!”

Fabien: “It’s not always about you! What about Celeste?! That bitch, Ivy, drugged her, and you were spending more time with Chelsea! I do wonder if you had feelings for her, but you don’t want to admit it!”

He thundered. Jaxon gnashed his teeth.

Jaxon: “I can’t care for someone without it being romantic?! Fuck you, man! She was about to have her life look up, and then Ichiro turned her into that thing! You and Celeste don’t care about anyone but trolling that loser, Blair!”

He cried.

Fabien drew a long breath.

Fabien: “Why do I bother? For the record, I don’t have a thing for Percy. I’m not out to steal anyone. I love Celeste. I tell her and show her, but you struggled to do so, so maybe you need to look at yourself before you point the finger, eh, Jiro?”

He asked scathingly.

Jaxon turned to Fabien.

Jaxon: “Yeah, you’re right. You and Celeste deserve each other. I want someone to hold me and not tell me to get over it!”

He fielded scathingly. Fabien shrugged.

Fabien: “Sure, Jiro, but don’t push him away just because he greets me.”

He said acidly as he drowned his beer, crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, and rose.

Fabien: “Enjoy your life, Jiro.”

He stormed away. Jaxon drew a long breath and raked his fingers through his hair.

Fen locked his gaze on Jaxon from a distance and smirked. When she comes, she will snatch him away, and I’m off the hook, he thought. Fabien walked by, and Fen snapped out of his daze. Holy smokes, I need him, he thought and rose.