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Spirit kicks his shoes off and drapes himself over Stein's back, taking in his partner's scent after the long day. Vague formaldehyde clings to his stitched lab coat. An undercurrent of blood. Black coffee. That strange antiseptic smell that comes with the constant sanitization of scalpels and other medical supplies. Rubbing alcohol. Hand sanitizer. Sweat. The strong smell of cigarettes over all of it. After everything that's happened, Stein still smells like home.
"Baby!" he croons.
Stein looks up from his notes. "Maka doesn't know about us?" he asks in his usual deadpan.
Spirit's heart drops. He detaches himself from Stein's back. "Who told you?!"
"I can piece things together. I'm a man of science." He sets down his pen. "Does she know that you like men?"
Just like Stein, to begin asking pointed questions before Spirit can even kiss him hello.
Spirit laughs uncomfortably, loosening his tie. "How am I supposed to tell her that her papa cheated on his wife with his academy boyfriend?"
"You lied to her," Stein says plainly.
"You're not a father!" Spirit protests. He stamps from the room, straight to the kitchen to open up a beer bottle.
Stein joins him in the kitchen. He crosses his arms, watching with detached objectivity. Or what he calls objectivity. Unfortunately for him, he has a personal attachment to Spirit that tampers with his evidence.
"You told her that it was random women."
"No one knows that I—you and I were just an—"
"Experiment, I know." Stein's voice is oddly level. "I didn't mind your cheating," he says, as though he's the moral one.
Spirit sighs, exasperated, and drinks his beer faster than he should. "It wasn't. Still isn't cheating," he argues. "We have an agreement."
"We do," Stein agrees. "When the… urge… strikes you, I don't restrain your desires."
"Except for one."
Stein looks sharply at Spirit. "Because she didn't understand your desires."
Spirit shudders at that. His partner is just as deadly as he is. Even more so. Spirit doesn't go around scaring people for so-called "empirical data", nor does he cut people open in their sleep. He’d only asked Stein for one surgery: two identical scars beneath his pectorals when he was thirteen. That was it. Though there wasn’t much to remove, it had been exhilarating to have the problem dealt with.
"Do you desire me?"
Spirit pauses his drinking. It's a childish question. If he didn't, he wouldn't be here. That's part of the agreement, though less observed after the divorce. Spirit doesn't have to come home to Stein every night. If he's decided to take another lover for the night, or his old fear of Stein was acting up, there wouldn't be any yelling or broken hearts.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn’t," Spirit says carefully.
Stein pushes up his glasses. They gleam in the light. "But you don't want your daughter to know about us.”
"You're her teacher," Spirit protests.
"She's a mature girl. She can handle the truth." Stein observes Spirit as though he's a pinned specimen. His face is hard. There’s a spark of pain deep, deep beneath the surface that Spirit can only see because of years of proximity to him. "I know I'm her father."
Spirit moves back from Stein. Though he knew this would eventually happen—Stein is one of the smartest people he knows, he can figure out a punnett square, dammit—, he doesn’t want to have this conversation right now.
“I knew from the first day I saw her,” Stein says, oddly casual. His face would be unreadable to anyone other than Spirit. He’s nervous. “She looks—”
“I didn’t know what to do,” Spirit says, words coming out too quickly. “I thought she looked enough like Kami that it would be fine, but she’s… all yours.”
“Did she inherit my madness?”
It’s a pointed question. Something that’s been bothering Stein since he figured it out. There’s no way he would’ve asked so quickly after confirmation.
A lump forms in Spirit’s throat. He doesn’t want to imagine his little girl with his partner’s madness. Stein has worked on it over the years, but he still flirts with insanity on his bad days. If Maka inherits it, Spirit wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. “I don’t know. I hope not.”
Stein nods. “Good.”
“Do we… do we have to tell her?” Spirit opens up another bottle of beer, finishing half of it before Stein speaks.
“I believe that she would like to know,” Stein says logically. He pushes up his glasses. “Of course, I’m sure she wouldn’t be happy to know that her mother isn’t who she thought she was, but she would appreciate the honesty from you. There’s no saying if she would believe you, though.” Stein reaches up into a cabinet and removes a bottle of wine and one of the glasses. “I would prefer if she knew.”
Right. Spirit’s not the only person impacted by this. If Maka knew that one of her parents was her half-insane professor, she might beat the shit out of him. He deserves it for lying to her all those years.
“Should we tell her together?”
“Would that help you?” Stein pours himself a glass of wine, far fuller than recommended. He recorks the bottle.
Spirit finishes his beer. He sets the bottle against the counter with a dull clunk. “I don’t want Maka to think I’m irresponsible enough to get knocked up by my academy boyfriend.”
“Irresponsible, you say?” Stein asks.
“What would people say about a death scythe being knocked up by his meister?” Spirit laughs without humor and uncorks the wine bottle, taking a deep drink from it.
Stein goes quiet. He takes out a cigarette and lights up.
Spirit stops drinking and gestures for Stein to give him a cigarette as well. All of this conversation about his pregnancy brings up a lot of emotions. If he hadn’t had bottom surgery already—performed discreetly, outside of Death City—, he might suggest that he and Stein have another kid. Try the whole “parenting” thing the right way. Give Maka a younger sibling she can be protective over.
“You’re supposed to be giving up smoking,” Stein reminds him, giving him one anyways. He leans in towards Spirit.
“This is stressful.” Spirit puts the cigarette between his lips and presses the end against Stein’s.
Stein takes in a deep breath and lets out smoke. “I will help you tell her.”
Spirit leans against Stein’s side. “Would you—I know you never wanted to be a father.”
“I would have loved to be in her life,” Stein says. He looks deep into Spirit’s eyes. “I knew from the beginning that she was mine. I was waiting for you to tell me.”
Spirit swallows down wine. “How did you know?” he demands, tipsy already. He might be a bit of an alcoholic—he’s lying to himself if he says a bit, but he’s been trying to cut down on the drinking lately—, but his tolerance is still shockingly low.
“I was the only person you let inside of you,” Stein says.
Spirit’s heart sinks. He sets the wine bottle down on the counter, hard enough that the slam of it against the surface cuts through the room. He’s been trying to reconcile with the fact that his lover, father of his child, would cut him open in his sleep. It’s difficult. There are nights where he refuses to sleep in the same bed as Stein after they have sex. Part of why he’d sneak off to fuck Stein and sneak back was to avoid having to share Stein’s bed overnight. He checks his entire body every morning after spending the night in Stein’s bed, and he hasn’t found any incisions since he began. It’s been getting easier to forgive Stein as time has gone on without an operation.
He might love Stein, but he’s still traumatized. That’s a fear that will never go away.
And other than that, Stein’s right. He’s the only person that Spirit let inside of him. For some reason, he didn’t trust anyone else before his bottom surgery. Spirit never told Stein this, because he was an irresponsible teenager who didn’t think that it was important to tell his sexual partners anything, and that’s how he knew for certain that Maka was his.
“Oh,” Spirit says. “How did you know?”
Stein takes a long drag of his cigarette. “"You were known for your… phenomenal oral skills."
Spirit looks away from him, embarrassed for his last self for being such a slut.
“It would be nice, to be involved in our daughter’s life," Stein says off-handedly.
The words our daughter fill Spirit’s body with warmth. He really does want that life with Stein. If he could do it all over again, without caring about what people think about him, he’d pick Stein.
“You can be in her life now.” Spirit adjusts his tie. “I know it’s late, but… I want you there.”
Stein’s mouth quirks into a smile, one of the rare ones that comes from emotion instead of cruelty. “Then it’s decided.”
-
They’re getting too old to make love all night after making big life decisions. Spirit’s waiting in the hallway as the rest of Stein’s class files out the door. Stein asks Maka to stay behind after class; Soul asks if he should stay; Maka says no. His little girl, always so independent. She doesn’t need anyone. Just like Stein.
Spirit’s sure that the only reason Maka hasn’t figured it out is because she hasn’t spent enough time around Stein to notice.
“What is it, Professor Stein?” Maka asks.
“There’s an important matter to discuss,” Stein says.
Spirit takes this as his cue to come into the lecture hall. He controls himself from launching himself at Maka—he’s getting better at being a father, he promises—, instead focusing on Stein behind her, watching him with detached amusement. They are slowly becoming far more than lovers, which Spirit isn’t quite sure about. They’ll have to discuss that.
Maka eyes him as he walks in. Spirit hopes that one day she won’t look at him so reproachfully. Losing her mother was hard for her; knowing that Spirit’s whoring around was the reason for it didn’t help her opinion of him. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hi, baby!” Spirit says brightly, though his stomach churns. He looks at his daughter, then at her father, and once more he’s shocked by how similar they are, holding themselves like they bear the weight of the world on their individual shoulders. It’s a bit amusing.
“We’re having a conversation, dad,” Maka continues.
“Spirit is a part of it,” Stein says calmly. He looks at Spirit with this strange detached softness that Spirit loves from him.
Maka looks between them. “Is there something I need to know?”
“Maka,” Spirit says, trying to be careful with his words. He adjusts his tie, then adjusts it again. “Maka, your papa needs to tell you something important.”
Maka side-eyes him. “What is it?”
Spirit takes in a deep breath. “I wanted to tell you that I am dating Stein.”
He reaches out for Stein’s hand and is a bit startled when Stein takes it regardless. He glances at Stein's face to see curious blankness. Really, he shouldn’t be as into how Stein is at least one layer removed from all of his emotions, but here he is regardless. It’s embarrassing, how ridiculously head over heels he is for Stein. He was the first time. Before everything happened that made him afraid of Stein, despite having his child.
If anything, he’s surprised that there weren’t rumors that Maka was Stein and Kami’s child, from how little she looks like Spirit.
“Oh,” Maka says. She shifts uncomfortably. “I didn’t expect that.”
“We were together when we attended the DWMA,” Stein says casually.
“But I thought you and mom—” Maka furrows her brow just like Stein does when he’s particularly focused on grading papers.
Spirit laughs uncomfortably. “There’s something else,” he says.
“Were you cheating on mom with Stein?” Maka accuses.
Stein glances at Spirit as though he’s not sure if he should confirm or deny it.
“I was,” Spirit admits.
Maka glares at him, fists clenched at her side, then gives Stein the same look. If looks could kill…
Well, if Maka’s glare won’t kill, then her fists definitely could. The girl knows how to punch. That’s something she learned from Kami, unfortunately. Spirit’s wife was always teetering on the line of being a bit abusive with him.
He definitely, definitely needs to see a therapist or something after this.
“But your mother and I only got married because—”
“Of me, I know,” Maka spits.
Spirit’s heart breaks a little. “Baby!” he says, fighting the urge to pull his little girl into a hug. He doesn’t think Maka would believe him if he told her that she was the best thing to ever happen to him, even though it is true. Despite his rocky marriage with Kami, despite sneaking off almost every night to fuck Stein or unnamed women at the bars, despite the divorce that made his daughter hate him more, Spirit loves his little girl. She’s his whole world. That’s why her hatred of him hurts so much.
“Would you like for me to tell her?” Stein asks, helpfully deadpan. Right. His anchor.
It’s ridiculous that Spirit relies on the most unhinged man in all of Death City to act as his rock.
“No, I can,” Spirit says. He doesn’t believe himself. “Maka, baby… your mother isn’t your mother.”
“What?” Maka asks, looking annoyed and confused at the same time. It breaks Spirit’s heart even more. “No, of course she is.”
“She’s not the one who—I’m—”
Spirit doesn’t have the words to explain this to Maka. He didn’t particularly enjoy being pregnant with her, all of the dysphoria it caused, how it changed him in ways that he had to get reversed through many surgeries that freaked him out more than being knocked up, and he’d hoped to never discuss it after it was over. But here he is.
Things don’t go as planned in Death City.
“Do you know about transgender people?” Spirit asks.
Maka eyes him suspiciously but nods.
No one makes a handbook on coming out as trans to your child. Spirit seriously regrets not looking for one.
“I’m transgender,” Spirit says. He hasn’t said that in years. No one dares to accuse a Death Scythe of hiding information about their supposed “real gender”, and anyways, with all of the painstaking steps that Spirit has taken to make his body his own, he’s more than happy to pass without having to explain who he is to anyone.
Maka takes a moment to fully examine Spirit as though she’s trying to make sure he isn’t lying. He doesn’t blame her. This must be difficult for her to hear. All of this information at once, and at such a young age… Though he wasn’t much younger than Maka is now when he began to fully own being a man. His little girl really is growing up.
Her eyes slide over to Stein, as though she’s trying to factor him into the equation.
“So that means I have another dad,” she says, slowly.
“You do,” Spirit says. “I’ll always be your papa, but you do.”
Stein—and Spirit is hesitant to label anything Stein does as nervous, but dare he say it—nervously pushes up his glasses.
“And you used to date before you married mom,” Maka continues. “Which means that…?”
“Yes,” Stein says, and now Spirit knows he’s nervous. The only time his voice gets that sort of tone to it is when the madness begins creeping in and he’s just barely holding onto reality. “I am.”
Maka goes pale, but she nods understandingly.
“I thought that—that you should know,” Spirit says, quickly. “You’re old enough that I hoped that maybe things would make sense now.”
“Why did you marry mom at all?” Maka asks, and she’s both angry and sad and confused, and all Spirit wants to do is make this all go away for her.
Spirit lets go of Stein’s hand and bends down to get to her level, like he used to do when she was a small child, and he straightens his tie once more. “I was afraid of what would happen if people knew the truth,” he admits.
Maka looks at him with her giant green eyes. It’s the way that Stein looked at him when he announced he would be marrying Kami, except not at all. That’s the difference between the two. Stein is so far removed from his emotions that they all manage to feel cold, even his rage; Maka is so emotional that hers blaze white hot from their intensity. That she gets from Spirit. It’s as much of a curse as getting Stein’s detachment would’ve been.
“I’m leaving,” she announces, then runs out of the room.
-
Spirit knows he’s the kind of drunk that would make Kami yell at him so loud it felt the foundation of the house would shake with it. He hated those nights. If he didn’t have the love of liquor in his veins, he wouldn’t be so bad. If he had self-control he wouldn’t. Those nine months of carrying Maka were some of the most miserable of his life, without anything to drink, his only company Stein and the occasional visit from Sid or Marie or even Kami, when she would stop by the lab.
Funny, now, that he chooses to stay at the lab he was locked in for almost eight months of his life, once he began to show.
He sobs against Stein’s shoulder, who’s had his own fair share of wine and beer with him since getting home.
“I wanted to do the right thing,” he chokes out, amazed at his ability to cry for hours and hours. “I thought it was the right thing, to tell her. Maybe it was better not to. She was happy, when Kami was her mother.”
“Spirit,” Stein says.
Spirit buries his face in Stein’s shirt. Stein managed to shed his lab coat somewhere around his third glass of wine, where Spirit began to toss out random accusations that life would’ve been better if he didn’t sleep around.
“Spirit,” Stein repeats, running his hand through Spirit’s hair gently. “That was the right thing to do.”
“You shouldn’t have anything to say about what’s right and what isn’t!” Spirit yells.
Stein goes silent. He tilts his head back until it rests on the back of the couch with a sigh, exposing his neck. “You did the right thing. She did deserve to know.”
“She hates me even more now!” Spirit wails, and he’s right.
All he ever wanted was for his baby to be happy. And maybe she was happier with the lie that Kami was her birth mother, and that she only had one father. He’s ruined the illusion for her forever. In fact, he’s ruined their whole relationship, not that they had a good one to begin with. If he hadn’t been so afraid of what everyone would say and just stayed with Stein, then none of this would’ve happened. They would’ve been happy.
It’s all Spirit’s fault that Maka’s life is so terrible. He can’t even make his own daughter happy.
He’s a fucking failure.
“Spirit, you should go to bed,” Stein says. “Maka needs time to think about it.”
Spirit disentangles himself from Stein and stands. “You don’t know what she needs!” he yells. “You’re not a father!”
“I am,” Stein says dryly, meeting Spirit’s gaze, face challenging. He gets less detached from his emotions when he’s drunk like this, and he drinks so infrequently that his tolerance is shit. A glass of wine after a tough day and he’s tipsy. Keeping up with Spirit is impossible for him. Spirit knows this.
“You’ve never been a dad! You don’t—”
There’s a very loud knock at the door, and Spirit jumps, then he’s sure he’s going to throw up. His stomach churns.
“I—” he announces, then runs off to the nearest bathroom to deal with his problem. Ugh. He’s not as young as he used to be. Drinking like this is hard on his body, now that he’s no longer a teenager.
Throwing up reminds him of how awful his morning sickness was with Maka. That, and the alcohol withdrawls. He was already a drinker in his younger days, back when it was cool instead of becoming a problem, and the sudden ceasing of drinking drained him of everything as the baby was growing. He isn’t even sure when it stopped being alcohol withdrawls and began being morning sickness. There wasn’t a line between them. Vomit is vomit, especially when you’re pregnant.
Once he’s done with the unpleasantness of throwing up, he rises to his feet and swallows a few mouthfuls of water from the sink. He straightens his tie, loosened to the point of being rather unnecessary for everything but aesthetics, and looks at himself.
Pathetic.
That was an awful, terrible idea, so instead of looking at his (pathetic, stupid, ugly) face, he turns on his heel and grabs another bottle of vodka from the kitchen, then walks to the living room.
He feels like shit. Maybe he could convince Stein to sleep with him. They used to have great drunk sex when they were younger. That's probably how Maka was conceived, actually.
“Baby, maybe we should just go to bed. We could have—” he says as he rounds the corner, then nearly drops the bottle.
His daughter and all of her friends are on his couch. Why are they on his couch, in his house?
"Whoa, they really are dating!" Black*Star yells.
Death the Kid doesn't seem amused by the situation. He's also a pretty smart kid. Probably figured out that Stein and Spirit were involved a long time ago.
"Hi papa," Maka days.
Spirit desperately wishes he weren't completely shithoused right now. Stein looks like he's also having the same thought, standing with his arms crossed.
"Hi, baby," he says to his daughter. "Are you okay?"
Maka swallows, and Spirit can barely stand to see his little girl look so conflicted. "Can we talk? Just the three of us."
"Of course," he says, too drunk for this shit.
Soul stands like he's expecting to be the third person, and oh. They don't know.
Spirit’s flooded with relief. He doesn't particularly want for anyone to see him as anything other than a man. Some people see people like him as, well, not men. At all. He has so much respect for his daughter and how she handles herself and sensitive information.
"No, Soul, not you," Maka says.
Soul cocks his head to the side. "Then who—"
"Professor Stein," Maka says.
Everyone looks at each other for a moment.
"Okay," Soul says, sitting back down. Spirit might not like the kid at all, but he does (begrudgingly) acknowledge that Soul respects Maka.
Stein is far more drunk than Spirit originally assumed because he actually stumbles for once, and Spirit rushes forward to support him regardless of how it makes him feel like he's going to throw up again.
"Thanks," Stein whispers. His voice so close to Spirit’s ear sends a shiver running up his spine. Ten years ago he would've pinned him against a wall and screwed him senseless in the next room over for that.
He has standards now that they're proper adults.
Maka leads them to the kitchen and sits in one of the chairs. Spirit helps Stein into a chair and unceremoniously throws himself in Stein's lap.
"So… I thought about everything," Maka days slowly. She avoids looking at them. "I'm not mad."
Spirit could bawl just from that. From the moment he saw Maka as a tiny baby, he knew that he would do anything for his little girl. Anything. He's not a good father by any means. But he's trying. Harder than he's tried anything, except maybe being a Death Scythe. Even then, becoming one was easier than being a good father. He was never meant to be one.
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
Spirit rests his face in the crook of Stein’s neck. He smells less like blood without his coat on and more like himself. The way he used to smell when they were at the DWMA together.
"I didn't know how," he says.
Maka chews on her lip. "Did you know?" she asks Stein.
Stein cards his hand through Spirit’s hair. "I knew. Spirit didn't think that I did. But you look enough like me that I couldn't ignore it."
"And papa was with you the entire time he was with mom?"
"Yes," Stein says.
"Did you ever love mom?"
"Maybe?" Spirit asks. "I appreciated her. But it was all out of convenience."
Maka looks down at her hands on the table. This must be difficult for her. "Are you and Professor Stein happy?"
Spirit raises his face from Stein’s neck. He looks at his daughter, awkward and avoiding eye contact with both of them, then Stein, who’s drunk enough that he’s not bothering to hide his emotions like he normally is, face looking downright sappy.
“Yes,” he says immediately.
“I am as well.” Stein runs his hand along Spirit’s back. A jolt of electricity runs through Spirit, and he’s genuinely not sure if Stein used some sort of ability on him or if he’s just incredibly into his partner.
“I’m happy for you, then,” Maka says. She’s handling this with incredible maturity. “I don’t know if I’m ready to accept everything, but if you’re both happy, and you’re not going to hurt each other, then I guess I’m going to get used to it. This is a lot to take in all at once.” She looks up at them, trying for a smile, oddly professional for someone so young. But she’s not so young anymore. She’s a young woman.
Spirit’s about to cry when Maka stands abruptly.
“Please take care of him, Professor,” she tells Stein. “He’s still my dad. I don’t want you to hurt him, because then I’ll have to hurt you.”
Maka’s confidence always impresses Spirit. Most of his is false bravado. But hers? It’s real. She really is the best of the best, and she knows it to be true. And despite everything she knows about Stein, about their terrible past, she still trusts him enough to take care of Spirit. Even though she has to threaten him anyways.
“Aren’t I supposed to be telling Soul that?” Spirit asks.
“Soul’s never…” Maka stops, because she knows where to stop. “We’re not having that conversation now.”
Stein smiles softly. “Yes, I will take care of your father for you.”
“I take more care of you than you do of me,” Spirit protests, thinking of all the times he’s had to physically force Stein into bed to make him sleep.
"Maka," Stein says, suddenly serious. "We would prefer if this didn't get out. This could jeopardize our reputations."
"I think students might be more terrified of you for taming Death Scythe."
Maka looks horrified. “Okay we won’t tell anyone. Bye,” she says, then rushes from the room.
“I didn’t mean it like that!” Spirit calls after her.
“And how exactly did I tame you?” Stein asks, with a hint of deadpan playfulness.
Spirit tucks his face back into Stein’s neck and inhales deeply. He smells like he always did when they were younger. Coffee, cigarettes, rubbing alcohol, hand sanitizer. Overly sterile undertones, but lived-in. When did Stein start to smell like home?
“I think we might be more than an experiment now,” Spirit admits.
Stein makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “Telling your daughter makes us something different?”
“Obviously. I can’t have her thinking I’m a whore.”
“You aren’t, because you’re not getting paid,” Stein says, dryly. He kisses Spirit’s temple.
"What does that make us?" Spirit asks.
Stein considers him for a moment. "We're dating, are we not?"
Spirit likes hearing that from Stein. He kisses along Stein’s jawline, trailing down his neck and then up his facial scars.
“Should we see our guests out?”
“We have more important things to do.” Spirit giggles like a schoolboy and hops off Stein’s lap to pull him back to their shared bedroom like when they were in the DWMA together.
Stein, stumbling drunk still, shuffles after him with the Stein-equivalent of a dopey smile on his face, which means that he’s smiling alright, just far smaller than his manic smiles that mean trouble. Spirit falls on the bed first and beams up at him.
“Let’s try for another one,” he says.
“I think your equipment is lacking for that.” Stein ruffles his hair regardless. Spirit keens at the affection.
Spirit laughs and pulls Stein down by his t-shirt. Stupid stitches and all. And yes, he’s most definitely in love, but he’s not ready to say that yet. He’ll wait until they get more stable. Until he’s not so afraid of what people think, until Stein’s not as concerned about his reputation, and then they’ll be the best damn couple Death City’s ever seen.
“We’re going to be good dads,” he says. He slides his hands beneath Stein’s shirt, feels every scar on his torso and the thick muscles beneath them. “I wish we’d done it right the first time.”
“We can do it right now,” Stein says. He traces his hands along Spirit’s sharp jawline, then works on undoing his tie. “We’ve all made mistakes in the past. If we don’t repeat them, that means we’ve learned from them.”
“You’re not drunk enough if you’re that logical,” Spirit whines. He removes Stein’s glasses and folds them neatly before placing them on their designated place on Stein’s nightstand, which is not at all where they normally end up going.
Stein blinks at him, then squints, trying to see without his glasses. “I’m a man of science.”
“I know.” Spirit nuzzles Stein’s throat while Stein struggles to remove his shirt. “Shut up before you ruin the moment.”
Stein chuckles but remains quiet as he removes Spirit’s shirt, his pins clattering to the ground somewhere, doubtlessly to be stepped on by a hungover Spirit in the morning. That’s for later. The future sparkles with possibilities and the past withers in shade, but now, there is them. And that’s good enough for Spirit.
(It’s good enough for Stein, too, for the time being.)