orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

Declan released him and Desire pushed away from him to stand, dismissive but also without any particular malice. This was the same moment wherein Ghost zipped in between them, only to be pushed aside, earning a scoff from the entity currently in control of Aoba’s body as he moved towards the apartment window. Even his body language was different from that of the Aoba they knew, a kind of reckless confidence that would have put him right at home among all those barflies looking to pick meaningless fights.

Ren paced around the side of the couch so as to continue keeping a physical eye on him, but stayed closer to Declan than his wayward ‘owner’. He didn’t understand why Aoba was acting this way, but something niggled at him in a very uncomfortable fashion. Still being entirely in the belief that he was an Allmate, Ren didn’t know how to properly identify feelings of déjà vu.

“I’m what every human has deep inside of them,” Desire answered with a flippant wave of his hand, back still turned on all of them. “That voice that tells you what you really want, even if society would say you can’t have it? That’s me.”

Into his pockets his hands went, posture slouched as he finally turned enough to regard the lot of them. “I’m just being who I am, now that ‘Aoba’ doesn’t have any more of Granny’s medicines to keep me buried.”

"So you're Aoba?" Declan asked, simplifying it for himself. If it was just something inside a person, it was still that person. Like...

"...Like me...when I'm angry..."he murmured, voice quiet, withdrawn. Ghost turned, looking at the Guardian for a moment, then glancing to Ren, then...not...Aoba. Suppressed emotions, maybe? the result of trauma? Declan was a very, very good man, but his anger was always pushed back and put away, so when it came out, the results were often catastrophic. Fortunately he could let that stress out on enemies in the field, but suppressed desires were a whole other monster. He really should have stored more psychology books in his memory banks...anger management was all he'd kept. Dratted.

"Is it alright to ask...why someone would lock you away? I know wanting things can lead to bad things, sometimes. But wanting things in general isn't harmful. Everyone wants something." The Titan, practical and simple to a fault.

Desire cocked an eyebrow, turning the rest of the way around when he was addressed with Aoba’s name. It had been years since he’d been strongly a part of the dominant personality, when ‘Aoba’ had actually listened to him, but it was still his name too. He did not mind being called that way again.

More amusement from him at the Guardian’s observation, a low chuckle that the Aoba they knew wouldn’t have been capable of. “Everyone does,” he agreed. “But I’m even more than that. You can feel it for yourself. That pain in your head, right?” He lifted a hand, tapping his own temple. A needless gesture, probably, but it was hard not to be a little showy. He was in control of the body, and someone was listening to him.

“That’s me. I can make your mind do whatever I want it to. ‘Aoba’ hurt a lot of people that way. Some of them were completely destroyed when we were done.” A shrug, remorseless. “It won’t do you any good to ask him, though. He doesn’t remember me. And obviously he doesn’t either.” A flick of gesture towards Ren.

"I'm sorry no one remembers you. People...shouldn't have to tear themselves apart to be at peace with themselves," Declan replied, rubbing at his other ear even as Ghost gave him a surprisingly dry look for a floating eyeball. Silent accusation that the Titan should heed his own words.

"Please don't make me do things," the Guardian added after a moment, looking up with a quizzical expression. "When you force something...it loses it's meaning and sincerity. I won't be dishonest with you, or force you to do anything either." Huffing a soft sigh, he pushed himself up from the couch, looking towards his room ( their room, though now he's not sure what to do ), then the kitchen.

"Are you hungry? Um...either of you, I suppose?" he interrupted his own train of thought, unsure if the separate facets of Aoba worked like people with dissociative disorders, where different personalities might claim different needs and wants. If this was the personification of Aoba's desires, though, it made sense to Declan to ask if he wanted something. Then again, he might be oversimplifying it for himself.

Declan’s attempts may have been clumsy, but they had one thing going for them: they were being made. Those golden eyes of Desire’s studied him, sharp and appraising.

“Hah. The only thing I have an appetite for, you’re apparently not in the mood for giving,” he replied, “But don’t worry, I don’t feel like forcing it out of you just like that. You’re already too honest. It wouldn’t be any fun. Right now, I think I’m more interested in seeing what you do with that honesty all on your own.”

Desire hmmed to himself then, glancing from Declan down to Ren, then laughingly shrugged to himself and could be heard to mutter why the hell not. He walked away from all of them, through the bedroom and into the bathroom. When he returned in no time at all, he had the needleless injector in hand, freshly loaded up with a dose.

“Here. Show of good faith,” he said, striding up to Declan and standing in front of him, hand thrust out with the injector balanced on his palm. “Bring back ‘Aoba’. He’s not as honest as you, but…this won’t be the last you see of me, either.”

Watching curiously, puzzling over the statements, Declan quietly let Other Aoba have his idle way about the rooms. Looking between Ren and Ghost, the Guardian shrugged helplessly. He'd debated protesting that he was always willing to help and wanted to know what Other Aoba wanted, but a knowing look and vague 'headshake' from Ghost stopped him.

When Desire came out with the injector, Declan took it, but paused and looked up into those sharp eyes with a small frown.

"Are you sure? I know Ren is worried, and I know...the other Aoba is consistent about his medicine but...if it isn't hurting either of you, I don't want you to feel rushed away. You're the same person. I don't want you gone anymorr than I do him. You're my friend." He ventured, still hurt and unsure about everything but unwilling to drop his end of that bargain.

Declan took the injector and Desire gave his head a toss, getting all the disarray of his ponytail off his shoulders and clearing up access to his neck as he tilted his head to one side. Of course, it wasn’t like he would have cared at all if his hair was in the way and got pulled at as a result—and he was pretty sure Aoba hadn’t even told anyone yet about the sensitivity of his hair—but it was a peace gesture, or something like that.

“Get back to me when that’s ‘friend with benefits’,” Desire answered with a grin, eyes raking the Guardian’s exposed body one more time—for the current encounter, anyway. “Now come on, I’m getting impatient. Restraint is his job, not mine,” he added, with a jerk of thumb towards Ren that explained little at all. “And by the way, ‘Aoba’ isn’t going to remember any of this, so be ready for him to be confused as hell. And make sure he keeps that heart thing around. I wasn’t expecting to come forward, but I think it helped. Alright?”

As naive as Declan came off, he knew what that phrase meant. Lots of Guardians had that arrangement, and while he had never heard it alongside anything regarding himself, he wasn't completely ignorant. Swallowing audibly and looking a little too lavender, the Titan cleared his throat, raised the injector with a nod in reply to the artifact, and pulled the trigger.

He waited, quiet, full bottom lip pulled between his teeth and worried at as he paid attention for signs of change. Occasionally he looked to the construct companions for any possible advice.

"I'm very confused," he eventually muttered, mostly to himself.

With the injection done so close to the source of Aoba's issues, such as they were, it was a rapid shift. Desire hummed a bit at the sensation, disappointed that it barely hurt at all, but he felt that doorway reinforced and felt complacent enough to slip back through.

Gold dulled back into hazel and Aoba nearly staggered forward into Declan, blinking back into awareness with a delayed but also newly startled, "I'd!"

"Aoba!" Ren exclaimed from the floor, darting over while Aoba came to grips with to fact that he was standing instead of being on the couch, and that his neck stung like his arm did whenever he -- oh, yes, there, that was his injector in Declan's hand.

"Wh... what's going on? Did I pass out??"

That was all he could think of to explain his sudden change in position, but... not why he was standing instead of on his back somewhere.

"Um...not exactly," Declan replied, looking guiltily at the gun in his hand before setting it on the coffee table nearby.

"Let's...sit down and talk a minute. Ren, too," Declan sighed, reaching up with one broad hand to rub at his brow wearily. The minor headache still throbbed a bit, but he wasn't as bothered by it as he was by the responsibility he felt towards Aoba and the situation at hand.

At mention of the Allmate, Aoba looked down at him, and Ren in turn put his ears slightly backwards.

“…It would be hard for me to explain alone what just happened,” the little dog answered slowly, “But I agree that it needs to be discussed.”

“What…?” It was more an expression of bewilderment than a solid question, but glancing between everyone’s faces—Ghost included—was enough to confirm to Aoba that something bizarre had happened. He backed up to the couch and slowly sat down, unsure of what to brace himself for.

Ren immediately hopped up onto the couch with him, into his lap and curling up against his stomach. Aoba’s hands immediately found his fur for comfort, while Ren himself gathered his thoughts. Although he’d interjected very little while everything was going on, Aoba felt like his responsibility to him as well.

“I am not sure how else to describe it, Aoba, except to say that you appear to have an alternate personality that we were previously unaware of.”

“Alternate…personality?”

“Yes. One that apparently was kept from manifesting due to the medicines Tae had you take.”

“…You mean my headache medicine??” Aoba stared at the injector on the table, at Ren, then up to Declan. “What happened!?”

Declan let them have the first moment, walking over and getting two mugs of hot tea from the replicator, taking the fast route. Returning to the couch and sitting gingerly, he pressed one cup gently into Aoba's hand, pale eyes watchful, concerned, but not unkind in any way. Not judging.

"I'm...not articulate enough," Declan sighed with a small frown, apologetic. "There's another part of you that I guess was too much, and your Grandmother gave you medicine to suppress it."

"Precisely that, from what I can extrapolate from what was said," Ghost reaffirmed, drifting halfway across the room then back, then off again, similar to pacing.

"They refer to themselves as a separate entity, almost. A part of yourself shut off so completely that it manifested as it's own consciousness. I don't know if it's reactionary, caused by being blockaded unnaturally, or if it's a defense mechanism due to trauma, or something else entirely. Unfortunately I'm not well-versed enough in Golden Age psychotherapy to offer a more definitive answer, but I'll go through the Guardian archives to see if there's anything."

"Aoba," Declan spoke up before emotions could get too high. "It's okay. Nothing bad happened. It was just different."

Declan had the right of it. Aoba gave a startled little jolt when ‘called’, perhaps not on the verge of a total freak-out, but definitely sitting there with a wideness to his eyes as he struggled to comprehend what he was being told. That injector of his looked so out of place among all the artifacts and souvenirs Declan had brought home for him, he thought in distraction. But he had to admit, there was definitely a weird little gap between sitting on the couch and—finding himself standing, freshly dosed by Declan’s aid.

A separate entity. An alternate personality. Aoba had been taking his medicine ever since the wilder years of him being a teenager, or something like that, but…an alternate personality?? Had Granny really been aware of that, or had she only been treating the headaches as they were? But then again, if there was some weird side effect to it like that, it would explain why normal painkillers had never worked for him….

Why wouldn’t she have told him?

“Different? Different how?”

"Mm...more aggressive. More...confident, maybe," Declan considered, squinting slightly and gesturing for Aoba to drink the tea.

"I would call it false bravado," Ghost suggested, earning a small, hesitant nod from the Titan. "Not entirely confidence, unless it's blind. Which still makes it false bravado all the same. And a bit forward, if you ask my opinion!"

"Uh...he was cocky, is all," Declan clarified, thinking Aoba wouldn't like hearing that he'd bordered on vulgar.

"But...it's part of you that's been shut off. Locked up. I don't know if that's healthy," the large man murmurs, fingers tapping softly on a mug the color of his skin.

"I think it's okay, having those parts. If it happens again, it doesn't change anything. You're always going to be welcome here, Aoba. You with more sides, or multiple yous. However it works. Like I said, it doesn't change anything. Just makes it a little different."

Aoba managed a sip of the tea at Declan’s urging, but then he was mostly just staring into its contents. Aggressive, confident, cocky. Him? Was some part of him just stuck being an unruly teenager?

He could barely believe Declan was taking it all with such calm. Did anything get under the Guardian’s skin? Not that Aoba wasn’t grateful in some distracted fashion. If he was suddenly getting kicked out for strange behavior that he couldn’t even explain, instead, he’d be back at square one. Maybe even a few steps backwards from it. Negative square one.

“At least one of us isn’t bothered by it,” he murmured, prompting Ren to paw at him a little. Gently, so as to not upset his tea.

“Aoba, as difficult as I imagine it must be, I would strongly encourage you from working yourself up and overthinking it. You should stay calm, stay on your new medication, and avoid agitating your brain. Setting up another appointment with Jolene-9 in light of this new information would also be a good idea. And…perhaps avoid looking at the ‘Prismatic Heart’ artifact in the future, as well.”

Now that just sounded random, to an Aoba ignorant of the conversations before. He gave the Allmate in his lap a frown. “What? Why?”

In turn, Ren skewed his ears. In all honesty, he was uncomfortable with taking advice from that ‘other Aoba’. Was it even trustworthy? (The fact that Ren’s automatic reaction to another side of his master was distrust, was itself in need of an entirely different level of analysis.) “The…other version of you implied it had something to do with it manifesting.”

"I'm bothered," the Titan replied softly, looking up with measurable concern. "You're split somehow. That can't be healthy. Whether you're two halves of a whole or two people entirely independent of each other, you're struggling in ways I can't being to fathom. You're hurting, in a way, and that bothers me."

Reaching over and picking up the artifact, Declan turns the glittering thing in his hand, looking between Aoba and Ren.

"I can put this away for you...I'm sorry if one of my gifts cause you pain," the pale man remarked, nodding slowly before closing his eyes with a soft sigh.

"Ren knows you better than I do. I'm sure he knows what to do."

Two halves of a whole, or two independent people…? Aoba’s head hurt just trying to imagine either of those scenarios, though that was a metaphorical statement rather than a literal one. Neither one sounded good, much less anything like the lesser of two evils. Tea already forgotten again after that one sip, he watched Declan pick up that suspended, gleaming crystal. What had he said about it? The colors of your heart, or something like that?

Ren looked relieved to see it in Declan’s grasp, ears upright as he began, “I think removing it is a good id-“

Not a good idea.

“-Wait, wait, hold on,” Aoba cut in, interrupting, goaded by something like a gut instinct—or an impulsive thought from his hindmost brain. That crystal was the last thing he remembered looking at, so the evidence was there alright. “If there’s some…locked up part of me that it brought out, isn’t taking it away like throwing away the key?”

“I was not thinking of it in those terms, but the analogy is not inaccurate,” Ren answered, deep voice lending him a sternness that his fluffy form didn’t naturally possess. “If we get rid of the ‘key’ and you stay on your medications, then what just happened will never happen again.”

“…Can you really be sure of that? Declan says keeping part of me locked up can’t be healthy and I, I think he’s right. If that’s been the source of my headaches all along, wouldn’t they only get worse?”

Ren’s ears were back to being held backwards, though now unhappily and wary, rather than angry. “Aoba…I think the phrase would be, ‘I have a bad feeling’. I don’t trust it.”

“Me? You mean you don’t trust me?”

“That…didn’t feel like you. I’m not entirely sure how to explain it except to say that I don’t think you should listen to anything said by—by that other side of you.”

The back and forth kept Declan's attention, insofar as he was listening but staying out of it for the moment. Turning the crystal over in his hands, he had his own thoughts and kept his own counsel. It was just as well; hardly anyone valued the Titan's opinions on things. Titans were so often dismissed as little more than walking blocades, himself even more so for how slow he seemed to grasp the most basic concepts and how little he actively communicated with others outside of combat.

Those were things that he didn't care about. But he cared about Aoba. So speak up, god dammit!

"I trust you. Both of you. Well. I mean...all three of you," he muttered, instantly regretting speaking up, but pushing through nonetheless.

"...Um...hm...I...Sometimes I get angry..." He started, trailing off a moment and looking at the artifact. Inhaling deeply and uttering a tremulous, almost frightened sigh, the Guardian continued.

"...I don't...think I'm a bad person. I try to be a good man - I really do. I know what's right and wrong. I know it's wrong to hurt people, but sometimes I just get so angry," Declan paused, looking down at his free hand, balled into a fist and trembling. He forced himself to relax again, pale eyes drifting up between Ren and Aoba.

"Everyone has parts of themselves they aren't proud of. Parts they can't control. Some people have uncontrollably sad parts, like Mac. Some have uncontrollably angry parts, like me. Everyone has something. But...we can't ignore those parts, or shut them away. We grow around them, right? We take those parts we aren't proud of, and we make them into strengths. Mac is so honest and loyal. I became a Titan. My anger has saved lives. I might think it's ugly...but it helped me meet you," Declan remarked, gesturing vaguely and tilting his head, the curtain of his dried hair drifting over one eye.

"Ren...Aoba...what if the parts of you that you're cutting off, are things that are part of what make you beautiful? Roses..." He paused, struggling to collect his thoughts, to put his abstract ideas into coherent words when it was probably the most he'd talked all at once in most of his life.

"Roses are perfect because of the sum of all their parts. Not just the petals. The scent, the stem, the leaves, the inside parts you don't see but that keep the bush flourishing every year. Even the thorns. What if you're pulling off the petals and hiding your own luster? Or cutting off your thorns and leaving yourself defenseless? I'm not saying...that I trust it all to be safe. But I think you should both consider everything before making any hurried decisions. I won't get rid of this," he paused, holding up the artifact.

"I'll store it in my lock box. If you want to try again, you can ask me for it. I'll stand by all parts of you, Aoba."

Perhaps Aoba had a fortunate advantage in this way: this world wasn’t his own. He may have learned the words for the different kinds of Guardians and had a rough idea of each’s role, but he had no innate assumptions. Declan was quiet compared to many, sure, and especially so in comparison to people Aoba had seen around him like Mac and Cayde-6, but never would Aoba dismiss his kindness, thoughtfulness, and generosity for it.

So Declan spoke and Aoba listened, patient as the big Guardian pieced together some surprisingly poetic imagery with his unpracticed words…even if he had trouble imagining his pale, statuesque benefactor anything like angry. Two weeks from their meeting, and even if most of their interactions had been over those video calls, Aoba had yet to see anything that made him think the man deserved to be called ‘Decker’.

At the offer to lock the Heart away, which seemed to Aoba to run counter to everything he’d just been advised, he put his hand out and over Declan’s wrist again.

“You don’t have to put it away, Declan. It’s not like I’m…afraid of it or anything.”

“Aoba-”

“No, Ren,” he cut off his Allmate again, though this time he softened the words by stroking between Ren’s ears with his free hand. “I mean, sure, it’s all really confusing and, honestly, kind of upsetting to suddenly learn there’s a part of me I don’t even know, and that Granny never told me about, but….”

Aoba fumbles briefly, trying to piece it all together. He can look at the Heart again if he really wants to, maybe, but as much as he finds himself resisting the suggestion of locking it away from himself, the argument against it that he settles on ends up being something far less complicated.

“…You brought that back for me, Declan. I want to be able to see it in my collection along with all the other pieces, too.”

An earned reputation was seldom something one could run away from, no matter how hard they tried to be someone else. Declan still had a lot of anger, but he let it out in battle. In places like the bar, where he felt anxious and threatened in a public setting, he sometimes lashed out at those that made good targets. Aoba, however, didn't upset him in the least. Or, not in the same way, at any rate.

"I wouldn't think poorly of your granny," Declan responded after a moment of staring down at the hand over his wrist, careful not to move his hand in any way that might make Aoba withdraw.

"You speak well of her. She probably did what she thought was best at the time...but now you know, and it's up to you to make your own decisions. Whatever they are, I'll support you." He paused, looking up at the other man for a moment, one of those fluttering smiles of his lifting his lips for just a moment before he realized he'd lifted his other hand, fingers outstretched as though moving to touch Aoba's face. Glancing at his own palm as though it had in some way betrayed him, the Titan quickly placed it down at his side again, confused. A moment ticked and he cleared his throat with a nod.

"Still, I'll put it back in it's box for tonight. You--"

"If I might interject?" Ghost piped up, making a little "hem hem" sound, emulating clearing a throat he didn't have, for effect.

"I suggest in the morning you go to Jolyene and discuss the matter. Approach it like dissociative identity disorder, creating a personality as a defense after past trauma. She'll have resources she can give you. Probably be able to help you find a way to have more control over the back and forth. Offer different medications based on the findings. Since it's clearly more than just a medical issue causing headaches."

Declan merely nodded again, knowing the woman would have a vast knowledge of things to try. Maybe it would make it easier on Aoba? Both parts of him. If they were able to come to terms, maybe the other Aoba wouldn't sound so upset...

"Aoba...Are you..." Attracted to me? He wanted to ask, but choked at the last second, cheeks that pale lavender as he reached up and scratched the side of his neck. "...hungry?" Saved.

Aoba felt like some important kind of moment had just—veered off and passed him by, just barely grazing him with the wind of its passing. This was, of course, in reference to the hand that fluttered up and then away without landing anywhere at all…even with Aoba’s head tilted the faintest reactive degree, thoughts half bewildered by what had seemed to be a moment of reaching, but also half expectant of it.

But nothing at all happened and even Aoba himself could feel oddly stymied, watching the blush rise on Declan’s cheeks.

Well, it at least served a partial purpose in distraction, if nothing else. He had more than enough to suddenly think about already without getting sidetracked by—whatever it was. Or wasn’t. So there were two votes now for him to see Jolene, and Aoba quietly agreed, offering an unfocused nod of his own in response to the suggestions. His own hand was still on Declan’s wrist, and his thumb made a single soft, stroking motion, just one little unconscious betrayal of his own awkward wonderings.

“No, I’m…not right now. But in a little while, probably,” he managed, looking between three faces that were vastly different in outward appearance, but united in their concern for him. It was a feeling both humbling and comforting.

“Probably soon enough that we can go ahead and start making something. There’s plenty of ingredients in the fridge. I wanted to be able to make you something really good when you got home, but…right now I think I’d just get really distracted and burn everything. Is it alright to rely on you for help this time, Declan?”

Aoba hardly expected to be refused, but asking felt better than assuming, even when he already knew the answers.

And there they continued to sit for the moment, Declan as sure as shackled by the light weight of Aoba's hand and the tightness in his shoulders and neck coupled with a flutter in his chest when that thumb brushed his skin.

He couldn't stop the audible swallowing noise as he stared at the other man, not quite processing the words he heard at first.

"What? Yes. Sorry. Of course. If you don't mind my getting in the way a bit, I'd be happy to help in the kitchen. You can count on me," the Titan stated a bit too seriously, nodding once and looking almost grim. Going into cooking battle, evidently.

He felt better with the asking alright…but boy did he still feel bad that he couldn’t give Declan the ‘no effort required welcome-home dinner’ he’d originally envisioned. Add one more thing to the list of everything Aoba already owed him for.

“You can’t get in the way in your own kitchen,” Aoba pointed out with a bit of a lopsided smile, giving Declan one more friendly (and definitely a more conscious) squeeze before releasing him. Ren got a ruffling too before Aoba moved him from his lap and to the floor.

His tea, still stubbornly retaining some of its warmth, came with him as Aoba stood up from the couch and surveyed all those worried faces. “So let’s just…table this whole thing for the night, okay? I’ll go see Jolene in the morning, but for now we can just focus on dinner. Declan, since you liked it so much before, I got the things to make nikujaga again.”

Another vague, unsure smile at the squeeze, and Declan was up and following Aoba, bare feet slapping softly on the tiles. He nodded with a small sound of acknowledgment regarding the dish, pleased taht tehy were having something he already knew and liked and that he had enough memory of it to legitimately assist in the making.

"Thank you. I appreciate the consideration," he murmured, gathering dishes and utensils and carefully setting them in reach in tidy arrangement.

"Aoba...have you considered coming with me off the planet?" he asked, glancing the man's way as they maneuvered around one another in the process of preparing the meal.

"I made sure to have one of my other ships with more space taken down from the hangar storage. That way we can take the more scenic route like you asked about. More room to live in instead of just taking a hyperspace jump."

Aoba had splurged somewhat more this time around, now that he had his own earnings to go by rather than having to pull from Declan’s savings. No matter how much everyone said Declan could afford it (including Declan himself), it just didn’t sit well with him to be using someone else’s money so freely. If it had been some kind of situation where they were both contributing to a shared pool of funds, that would have been significantly different, but with the way things stood….

He wasn’t anybody’s kept man, okay? And they weren’t any kind of other situation where shared funds would have been appropriate, so-

So apparently his thoughts were just going to be all over the place to avoid thinking about his ‘buried personality’ or whatever was going on, and settling on more embarrassing things instead? Great. But still, Declan wasn’t hard at all to maneuver around as Aoba in turn got out the various ingredients to prep. He’d gotten some green beans for color along with the potatoes, carrots, and onions of before, some higher-grade cuts of meat, and rice to prepare on the side…and a deep fryer. Although maybe he wasn’t going to be up to try and replicate Granny’s donuts tonight, there was always next time.

And then he heard ‘one of my other ships’. As in spaceships. Declan had…multiple spaceships?

…Did that mean he wasn’t just well-off, but that he was some kind of low-key millionaire??

“Uh…well, um, yeah actually. It’s so commonplace for you, it seems like…I should try it at least once.” Before I have to go, he stops himself from saying. He has to get back home, but for one reason or another, he doesn’t want to call more attention to that necessary fact than he has to. He just wants to enjoy this time with his new friend as much as he can…. “You can barely see the sky where I live, much less fly in it. Or past it.”

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