How Can You Expect To Be Taken Seriously?

by Ana Lyssie Cotton and Persephone

He paced. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down.

"It's a perfectly natural thing to occur," Hope pointed out.

"Yes, but it isn't *you* having a child." He snapped agitatedly.

"No, it's your cat. And she's having several kittens."

Stryfe resumed his pacing, deciding that ignoring the Askani Healer was the best thing for all concerned. Diamonde had awakened him an hour before, mewling pathetically. He'd immediately discerned that kittens were about to become evident. In fact, as he'd watched, one had. She'd set about cleaning the little scrap of fur quite methodically.

Number two had seemed to come along a few moments later. By then Stryfe was on his feet, scrambling for his other boot. He wasn't about to let her have kittens without some sort of supervision--after all, what if something went wrong?

And she was having them in his bed.

He had made a box for her, per Hope's suggestion. But she apparently preferred to be sprawled in his bed. Wonderful.

Hope had sounded sleepy when he'd gotten her on the comlink. But she'd woken up completely when he announced the grand event.

By that point, Dia had settled happily into the warm spot he had left and was industriously licking the two kittens there. Stryfe knew there had to be more. He resisted picking her up and shaking her to get them out.

Hope, for her part, was finding this entire scene far too entertaining. Even she was starting to suspect this, and Stryfe -- when he deigned to pay attention to her -- obviously thought so.

Kitten number three came out of his mama just fine. So did number four.

He continued pacing. Back, forth. Up, down. Four steps to this wall. Four steps back. Hope grabbed him by the collar. "Stop it, or I'll chain you to a chair."

"But--"

"No buts. Stand still."

Stryfe glared at her, but crossed his arms and attempted to lean nonchalantly against the wall. This pose failed when Dia let out a mewling cry and he straightened and tried to look over Hope's shoulder.

Hope arched one eyebrow at him. He actually blushed. "She's all right, Stryfe," she told him soothingly. "Taking it all quite well. Much more sensible a creature than you are, really. Then again, she IS female."

With a grumble, he threw himself into the wooden chair thoughtfully provided for him by Dayspring. And winced as it creaked and shoved a splinter into his backside.

"Be kind to that chair."

"Why? It hates me."

"You want to watch your cat give birth or not?"

Stryfe got up from his chair and crowded back over to the cot, craning around Hope to check on Diamonde's progress. Hope looked briefly away from Diamonde in appeal to the ceiling for understanding. "I'm going to have to deal with this same behavior in a few months when Aliya comes to term, aren't I?"

He glared at her. "If you're so sure everything's fine, why won't you let me look?"

Hope considered this for a moment, glaring right back, then shrugged and took a half-step sideways. "As long as you don't get upset and do anything to damage them, fine. And don't faint."

"I don't *faint*. Except when I'm suffering either extensive blood loss or severe concussion." Stryfe peered at his -- the -- cat and her collection of fluffballs. "Not to mention that if I were going to be agitated enough to do something stupid, it should have been when she first *started* extruding kittens on my bed...."

"What DID you do?"

Stryfe looked at her with an expression Nathan usually reserved for people operating well below their expected level of intelligence, generally in some particularly irritating fashion. "Called you."

"Ah."

"Why in my bed?" he asked rather peevishly.

"Probably," Hope replied with a yawn, "because you were warm."

"That'll look wonderful on my tombstone." He muttered.

"Having kittens in one's bed isn't usually deadly."

"How would you know? Have you ever had kittens?"

She snorted, "Don't be silly."

"If you haven't, then --"

"Well, there IS this very attractive felinoid male I keep seeing around...."

He was saved from having to reply as a loud yowl echoed through the room. Diamonde apparently had decided she disliked not being the center of attention. He looked worried for a moment, then masked it with irritation. Hope bent back over the cat and crooned softly.

Stryfe wasn't entirely sure whether the crooning was making any impression on Diamonde, but it was, for some reason, vaguely calming to him. This worried him.

Predictably, kitten number four had arrived previously with no fanfare. It was now kitten number five who seemed to be giving his mother trouble. Diamonde, of course, wasn't having any. And before Stryfe could decide to tell Hope to stop crooning, the fifth kitten appeared and his mum began cleaning him vigorously.

--

Hope performed a thorough check of all the kittens--even recording their birth weights and sex--then wrote out a menu for the mother. "Make sure she eats and has lots of water," she instructed Stryfe as she finished packing up her equipment while he perused the list. "Especially the water."

"Yes, yes." He looked at the mound of kittens and cat on his bed, "Can't we move them into a box?"

"Not yet." A grin twitched at the corners of her mouth, "She'd probably just move them all back to the bed. Give her a day, then we'll move them."

Stryfe followed her as she walked to the door, "And in the meantime, where do *I* sleep?"

"The floor?" Hope tossed over her shoulder as she stepped out into the corridor.

Stryfe sighed. He COULD sleep on the floor perfectly well -- he was still young, after all -- but he'd prefer not. "Very funny."

"It's either that, or sleep standing." She replied, laughter in her voice as she walked away from him.

The floor, which was cold and hard, and not at all suitable for a man who had once nearly been King of the World. Stryfe scowled at Hope's departing back and decided she would be tortured once he was back in charge. Maybe strapped to the floor naked, with water dripping down on her incessantly...

Diamonde chose that moment to look up at him and mew. "This is all your fault," he muttered, striding over to the cot and removing the pillow and blanket. "Sleeping on the floor. What will the Chaos-Bringer come to next?"

It would probably be something messy, and possibly degrading. Certainly worse than washing dishes.

--

Something was crying in his ear. It was loud and pathetic, and waking him up. Not that he'd slept all that well, laying on a cold and hard surface as he was. The thing continued to make a racket, demanding he wake up and take care of it.

He considered the appeal of having his powers back. Two seconds and the thing wouldn't be a problem ever again.

It bit him.

On the nose.

Not that it hurt--which it didn't. Not that the thing had teeth yet--which it didn't. But. You do NOT bite the Chaos-Bringer (on the nose) and get away with it.

As Stryfe prepared to pick up the offending thing and throw it at a wall, he opened his eyes. And blinked. A tiny kitten perched on his pillow, pitifully trying to find its way back to its mother. It didn't even have open eyes yet.

He stared at the mewling creature for a moment, and blinked as a minuscule paw waved in the general direction of his eyes. He edged slightly backwards and rubbed the end of his nose where he'd been... er, gummed... reflectively.

The kitten kept on crying. It wanted its mother, and it wasn't finding her. Stryfe wasn't sure how it had managed to get off the bed without breaking its neck, but Diamonde was -- presumably -- still up on the cot with the other four kittens.

Before he could decide precisely what to do about the kitten--other than dodge another attempt at his nose--its mother appeared on the edge of the cot and gave him a look which promised painful retribution should he do anything to her precious baby. Stryfe wasn't even sure how the kitten had gotten on his pillow, but he wasn't about to risk being scratched up again.

He carefully sat up, then picked up the suddenly rolling-off-his-pillow kitten and placed it on the edge of the cot. Dia swiped a paw at his hand, almost catching several claws in it, then picked up her offspring and departed for the center of the cot.

--

A week passed. The kittens began wriggling around more, opening their eyes, and generally being nuisances. They romped, they fell off the cot and cried pitifully, and they kept him awake. Stryfe counted his blessings when he could sleep an entire night without one tiny kitten disturbing him.

He figured it out the third time he jerked awake--he was afraid of rolling on the little thing and crushing it. More fool him, since they seemed hell-bent on getting in his way.

And he was sure Dayspring would laugh himself sick if he ever figured it out.

--

Time flew for the Chaos-Bringer and his brood of kittens. In short order, they were completely aware and happily stalking dustballs through their surroundings. Although Momma still took them in hand, when needed.

Dayspring visited him occasionally. Usually to inspect the kittens and look smug that they were irritating Stryfe. Hope came once a week to check them for problems and just laugh at Stryfe--especially when she caught him playing with them.

Just like today. Dayspring had shown up when he had finally fallen into a light doze. The door opening had caused him to jump to his feet--almost stepping on a kitten.

As he hopped off the kitten and onto more stable ground, Nathan blinked at his double-prisoner. "Bright Lady, Stryfe. Have you slept in the past week?"

Stryfe gave him a look, then said defiantly, "...Yes."

Nathan surveyed him suspiciously. "Are you sure? How much?"

"I'm not sure of the total. Usually about fifteen minutes at a time before something decides to climb on me."

A suspicious curl of lip showed on Dayspring's face, and Stryfe glared harder. The curl turned into a full-fledged grin. "Well, I'll let you get back to your cat-nap, then."

"Thank you." Stryfe growled.

"Just remember that we're going to need you on a few work details soon."

"Yes."

"And keep the kittens in here, there are some nasty predators out there."

"Yes."

"After all, we wouldn't want anything to happen to your babies, now--"

"No. We wouldn't," Stryfe glared harder as Nathan chuckled. "Goodbye, Dayspring."

"Sleep well, Stryfe." A snicker echoed back into the room as he shut the door.

"I will. I'll just dream of pulling your entrails into cat-toys." Stryfe muttered.

--

Meanwhile, in a secret underground laboratory, a dark figure worked away at something. It occasionally laughed madly, and gave the distinct impression that it was mad.

Underlings scurried here and there, gathering information, setting plans into motion, pursuing tiny tidbits of gossip, and generally being, well, underlings.

The dark figure watched as his plans took shape, forming the web to his exact measurements. He was pleased.

--

Stryfe watched Diamonde carefully washing one of her tiny (and damp, given all the licking) fuzzballs, and sighed deeply when she raised her head and rumbled a window-rattling purr at him. "Stop that." She purred more emphatically and raised a velveted paw to bat in his general direction.

"I said stop." He frowned at her, sighed again, and flopped full-length on the floor. It was cold, but he'd been put to physical labor that day -- that he could have accomplished in about ten minutes if they'd shut off the power inhibitors, except that if they were stupid enough to do that he'd have better things to do -- after weeks of having no more opportunity to exercise than he could make in the cell without stepping on a cat, and he was tired.

The cot, however, would probably have been a better spot. At least it wasn't cold rock. He should move. In a minute.

Purr.

"Don't look so happy to see me. Stupid thing. I should be skinning those pathetic little creatures, not watching you look after them. You have horrible taste in people, you know."

The purr was broken by a slight hiss, then resumed.

It occurred to Stryfe that perhaps he shouldn't try to convince the cat he was a threat as long as his face was within range of her claws. Having his arms scored had been annoying enough, even if he still thought he might have preferred enduring the pain over the humiliation of having Nathan march him to a far-too-easily-entertained Askani physician, but he really didn't want to lose an eye.

A tiny sound came from one of the kittens. It sounded like the helpless wails of countless prisoners of war. For an instant, Stryfe had the absurd image of a kitten spread-eagled, strange metallic implements buried in its flesh. And then another one of them gave a soft burp.

A kitten pounced his fingers, and he wriggled them for its entertainment.

"I've gone soft, haven't I?" he inquired morosely of the feline collection.

A voice from the doorway startled him. The good thing was that it wasn't Nathan; the unfortunate thing was that it was Aliya. Also that they'd somehow rendered the door silent. He was sure it should make some kind of sound. "You really don't have to try to discourage them from liking you, you know."

He was supposed to, though, wasn't he? He glanced at Aliya. She was glowing and healthy-looking, if a bit fat. The pregnancy must be far along, by now. He decided not to get up from his position on the floor as another kitten stalked something on his back. Which actually felt good, since his back was feeling particularly abused.

"Stryfe?"

"I'm supposed to be evil," he muttered.

"Yes, I've heard that rumor." Aliya bent over carefully and ran a hand along Dia's side. "Hello, dear. Is the bear being particularly crabby today?"

Diamonde gave a happy purr and snuggled up to the scratching hand. Stryfe glared at her. "Traitor."

Aliya chuckled. "She's a sweetheart."

Deciding no answer was the better part of valour, he lowered his head until his forehead touched the cool floor. After all, much as he just wanted to be left alone, he couldn't very well tell Aliya--who was nice and rarely laughed at him--to go away, now could he?

Besides, it would irritate Nathan if she was nice to him.

Aliya eyed Stryfe with some concern and considered telling him he looked exhausted. Presumably he knew about the kitten walking on his back.

"Do you want a corral or something? Nathan tells me they keep waking you up."

He looked up at her. "I tried that. Have you ever heard kittens who are locked up crying? They sound like they're being tortured to death."

Aliya, to her credit, neither laughed nor said "You'd know, wouldn't you." She smiled sympathetically, settling a little awkwardly on the floor, and told him, "I think I could rig one you could keep beside you. It'd keep you from risking rolling over on them, but not really confine them too much."

"Why would you bother?"

"Why not?"

And so it came to pass that a mini kitten corral was built to ensure that Stryfe had *some* sleep. They still clambered all over him at night, but he didn't feel quite as worried about rolling over onto them. Especially since he slept in the corral. It made sense, that way. He couldn't move. And they were safe.

--

Coming home one evening, Stryfe walked into his room and found Nate being mobbed by kittens. He was chuckling at them as they climbed all over his black and grey clothing, leaving behind clumps and strands of kitten hair.

"You're deranged, Dayspring."

"Look who's talking."

He raised an eyebrow. "I am not covered in cat hair."

Nathan waved a temporarily unoccupied hand dismissively. "A temporary aberration."

Stryfe watched two of the kittens finish clambering to Nathan's shoulders. "I think they might believe differently."

"What? Oh. I meant your *not* being covered in cat hair was a temporary aberration." Nathan's eyes crossed briefly in an attempt to focus on a kitten that was inquisitively peering at his nose. "You frequently are, you know."

"They don't think I'm fashionable without it."

"Just what you need -- kittens as wardrobe consultants." With no warning, one of the kittens sprang gracefully off Nathan's shoulder in Stryfe's direction. Unfortunately the leap, while beautiful, was also far too short. Nathan caught her telekinetically, and she froze in midair for a moment and then miaowed loudly about this peculiar phenomenon. Nathan scooted her through the air to Stryfe. "Here. I think she was aiming for you."

Stryfe swallowed chagrin at having forgotten the power-inhibitor and tried to catch her himself, grimaced at the taste, and held up his hands to pluck the soft fluff-bit out of the air. She blinked adorably and promptly started purring.

She definitely took after her mother. Stryfe felt as if he'd picked up a small and not terribly well-calibrated motor.

One of the other kittens scampered down Nathan's leg and trotted across the floor to the still-open door. He peered out and gave a querying, "Mrow?"

Diamonde looked up from her contented laze, "Mrow."

"Mrooow?" The kitten looked saddened as he turned away from the door.

Stryfe carefully moved towards the door, sensing impending doom. He was right. The kitten paused for a moment, then whipped around and made a run for the corridor, paws making no sound. Ducking over, Stryfe scooped him up before he could reach the freedom of the hallway.

The kitten hissed discontentedly.

"Nice catch," Nathan said affably. The door swung lazily but decisively shut.

Stryfe eyed the door somewhat balefully and then went over and sat on his bed, wondering why the second kitten hadn't clawed him yet for spoiling his fun. "Nathan, what are you doing in here anyway?"

"Playing with kittens, obviously."

"Yes, I can see that. But WHY are you playing with the kittens?"

Nathan pondered telling Stryfe the truth--that he'd felt a need for a break from running the Known World and so had taken refuge with the passle of felines. He decided not to, since it was silly. "I wanted to make sure you were getting enough sleep."

Stryfe gave him a look. "I'm fine." Somehow, it seemed unlikely that Nathan was really concerned about his welfare. He was about to say so when it crossed his mind that it was, after all... possible. His captors had shown more concern for his well-being than most or all of his prior allies.

Beginning to remove the kittens, Nathan stood. Several meows of protest echoed in the room, but he was firm and divested himself completely within two minutes. Having to scritch each one and make sure they were happily cavorting on the floor took a slight bit of time. Then he was ready to leave this small sanctuary.

Stryfe was busying himself with keeping the kittens from slamming into the wall by crawling after them on all fours. He seemed to have forgotten Nate, and Nate wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. For a moment he watched the reputed Chaos-Bringer enjoying a very childish task. Then he coughed slightly. "And you said *I* was deranged."

"I don't want them brain-damaged." Stryfe gave him a look.

"Why? Hoping to raise a kitten-army and retake your palace?"

Stryfe paused and sat back on his heels, briefly bothered by the fact that he was on his knees in front of Nathan. Then again, Nathan had cat hair all over him. (So did Stryfe, but he was ignoring that at the moment.) "That's not nearly as implausible as it sounds."

One of the kittens made a run and assaulted Nathan's boot. Nathan blinked and crouched down to peel it (the kitten, not the boot) off his foot. "Considering I have their mother to thank...."

"Don't remind me."

Nathan gave him something alarmingly like Stryfe's own rakish grin. "But it's fun."

"How's Aliya, these days?" Anything to change the subject from being a prisoner.

"Irritable." Nathan replied a bit ruefully. "I think she's tired of having guards following her every move."

"But it would be unwise for her to travel alone, with, uh... the pregnancy and all."

"Exactly."

"You've explained it to her, I imagine. And she's not stupid, Nathan." Stryfe grinned, "I imagine she's irritated, but does understand the need for it. So, relax. Only--how many more months of this?"

"Three?" Dayspring kind of whimpered. "I've slept on the couch three nights running."

"Ask Hope?"

He blinked. "I may. Maybe hormones, or sedatives--"

"Or a better couch." Stryfe suggested sardonically.

"More cushions." Nate replied with a grin. He turned towards the door, then looked back at Stryfe, still sitting on the floor, and now covered in sleeping kittens. "Try not to wake them up. I hear they're noisy."

Stryfe stuck his tongue out at the closing door, then paused. It wasn't really dignified to wag one's tongue at a closed door. Especially when one was the Chaos-Bringer. He hrmphed and glared at the kittens. "Fluffy dust-moppets."

--

"Dayspring. Are you injured, or worrying needlessly about my sister again?"

Nathan snorted and leaned against the doorway of Hope's infirmary. "Well, I was going to ask you about her."

"She's quite well."

"Is she mad at me?"

"She'd tell you."

"I know she normally would, without hesitation. She's not acting the way she normally does, though."

Hope laughed at him. "You wouldn't act normal if you had another person living inside you, either."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't kick me out of bed and exile me to the lumpy couch."

She snickered. "You're acting like a pouty child, Dayspring. Give her time, she'll adjust to this new round of hormones."

"She will?" He looked pathetically hopeful.

"Yup. Now she's entering the stage of swollen feet, full bladder, and the feeling that she's too fat."

He blinked. "That doesn't sound comforting."

"It isn't. She'll continue to blame you for it all, too."

Nathan sighed. "You know, I realize she's an extremely capable woman, but there is a *reason* the partner who is biologically incapable of gestation doesn't normally get to claim the kid unless he does most of everything else to take care of them during the pregnancy. Only she won't let me."

Hope looked at him thoughtfully. "You really care, don't you."

"Yes." He replied simply.

She nodded. "You want me to talk to her?"

"I feel like I should. I don't think she's really trying to keep me from being the father; she's just having trouble delegating, or something." He sighed, sounding a bit plaintive. "I mean, we *are* married, and I don't think I've done anything to make her *that* mad at me, but I won't feel like he's really mine if she refuses to let me do anything. She's doing enough as it is. More than enough."

Hope chuckled. "Well, I won't say I'll complain if you want to make things easier for her. She does still like you, don't worry."

"Comforting." He shook his head and straightened. "Thank you."

"Good luck."

--

Stryfe had stretched out on the cot after Dayspring's visit. The kittens had objected and mewed loudly when he moved, but he'd ignored them. He was very tired of them. They pounced on him, ruined his sleep, and gave Dayspring many opportunities to snicker at him. Apocalypse would have had the kittens dead the minute they'd been conceived. Instead, he let them live through birth and weeks of destroying his life.

It was enough to make a sane man cry. Since Stryfe wasn't particularly sure he WAS sane, he doubted crying was an option. Besides, tears were weak.

There was also a kitten tickling him right under his ear. He was trying to ignore this until it yowled at him.

Irritated, he sat up, ignoring the kitten as it tumbled down the sudden incline and bumped into his side. He glared at the tiny room that was his cell. They kept him locked away, powers shuttered and banked. They didn't expect him to do anything but menial tasks, and dish-washing.

After all, letting him do anything tactical gave away information about their plans. Couldn't let him do that, would be a bad idea.

It would be stupid to depend on anything he came up with, too. After all, he'd want to undermine them.

It was still insulting.

The kitten crawled into his lap, mewling in disgruntlement. He picked it up and dropped it to the floor, then stood.

Maybe he should remind them he was a force to be reckoned with.

He sat back down on the bed the next moment, as he realized that he couldn't actually think of anything to do. They gave him enough freedom that he could... what? Punch holes in the walls?

That wouldn't work anyway. He'd had them reinforced.

It wasn't as if he could subvert anyone. He didn't collect the sort of fanatical underdog-types Dayspring started out with; no one was likely to be so loyal to him that they'd work with him now -- he couldn't even scare most of them.

There were Harrold and Fred, his rather grubby rescue committee, but apparently they were happily involved in agriculture. Besides, he wasn't that desperate.

Who was he kidding? He didn't think they'd listen to him now, or be any use if they did.

He could.... Break dishes. Right. And have to clean up all those nasty shards of pottery and glass. Bad idea.

The kitten meowed in irritation and stalked a dustball under the wooden chair against the wall. Stryfe's eyes followed it, then stared at the chair.

It was wooden, not particularly well-made if he remembered right. No one would ever take it away to use at a banquet of any sort. And he certainly wouldn't miss it. Without a place to sit, maybe Dayspring would even visit less.

Anything that reduced the amount of Dayspring in his life was good....

With a nod, he stood again and made the one step that took him next to the chair. He leaned over and picked it up, gauging the weight and wood. It wouldn't take much force to break it against the wall. Or he could snap the legs off and crack them against the floor with a boot. He pondered as he held it.

This wouldn't do him any good.

He was over-thinking it. With a snarl, he swung it by the legs against the wall. The resounding crack echoed in the small room, while the impact rattled up his arms.

The chair remained intact.

Well, that was a letdown.

He stared at the perfectly whole piece of furniture and unmarked wall for a moment. Was that all he could do? Was he so ineffective that he was being defied by a *chair*?

The chair was defying the Chaos-Bringer.

Irritated even more, he raised it over his head and swung it harder. Another crack echoed in the room, and a small piece fell to the floor.

Another wack at the wall produced a slightly larger piece of chair. This was better.

But it was still not as large as it should have been. In his estimation, the chair should have shattered on the first impact.

He turned and threw it against the other wall, irritated that it still stayed in one piece.

Stryfe hrumphed and leaned the chair against the wall, kicking at it with his boots. They were good boots, but still, the chair remained unbroken.

A kitten meowed up at him, blue eyes watching the toil of man in interest. And slight irritation. For the toil was not producing scritches, pats, or food.

"You wouldn't be so happy if YOU were a prisoner."

The kitten mewed again and began winding around his legs. Stryfe glared down at her. "I am trying to break something."

The only response was another mew, after which the kitten stretched itself up along his ankle until it could hook small teeth into the top edge of his boot and try to chew on it.

Stryfe seized the chair again in a rage and, with his feet firmly planted and a young cat nibbling his boot, smashed it violently against the wall.

It shattered.

As the debris and bits rained down, the other kittens came investigating, swishing their tails and pouncing the floating bits of wood. The kitten gnawing on his boot seemed torn for a moment, then went back to chewing at the edge.

He should feel better. Less angry, more in control. And yet he didn't.

The chair had shattered, but it hadn't proved anything. He was still stuck in here, still a prisoner. With a snarl, Stryfe threw himself onto the cot, wincing as his head came in contact with the wall behind it. The kitten on his boot meowed in surprise at her sudden airborn journey, then settled down again, content to be leaving teethmarks in leather.

There was a tap on the door.

Maddening.

"Come in," Stryfe growled. He was quite sure whoever it was would do so anyway. Probably Nathan.

He didn't look up, but he could *hear* Nathan's raised eyebrow. "Didn't like your chair?"

"No." He replied, refusing to explain.

If anyone had told the Chaos-Bringer he was acting like a spoiled child, he probably would have had them tortured. Well, if he were free of his prison and able to command his own armies again, he would.

"Well," Nate leaned against the doorjamb, slightly amused by Stryfe's pout. "You broke it, so I assume you don't want it. Until you can learn to appreciate a chair, you don't get another one."

"And how would I demonstrate that without one present?"

"Build one out of string and bits of left-over cat food?"

Stryfe blinked at him, "You're insane, Dayspring."

"Coming from you, that's a compliment."

Stryfe felt his lips twitch. He fought them, not wanting to admit that he was being ridiculous as well as silly. Nathan would win, then. He sniffed. "Yes, well, I still don't see how a chair must be earned."

"I'll think of something." Nate took a step back, and the door shut between them.

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