It had taken ten years to launch the Phoenix, and Raehab thought it was worth it just for the view. The clear bubble of the left 'eye' of the cockpit gave the pilot an endless view. He could see the curve of the horizon, the gradation of colors in the atmosphere and features of the surface in unprecedented detail. Of course, the reconnaissance blister's cameras would have an even better view, especially of the life-domes and territories they were flying over, completely undetected at this height. Next time, they might be carrying bombs instead of cameras.
"Blister has what they need," the commander reported from his station between and behind the two pilots. "Plot as a curved course back home, Mr. Starbuck," Commander Blaize ordered, the big blue Vartan reclining back and enjoying the view through both eyes.
"Aye aye," Starbuck replied, and checked the compass and auto-azimuth. The Silent-Ones territories passed quietly beneath the rebuilt Garuda-class transport, it's bio-metallic skin cutting cleanly through the thin air at 25,000 feet. Raehab began to reduce throttle in preparation for the turn that would be coming up.
Starbuck called out the angles and speed, and Raehab adjusted the ship's aspect, bringing it around to the south. They would fly another hundred miles, then turn back east to avoid lingering too long over enemy territory. It wasn't that they worried about the cheetahs mounting any sort of attack on them, but just being spotted could be disastrous.
Phoenix gave the Confederacy an incredible tactical advantage over the other powers, so long as it remained secret. Without surprise, a first strike attack wouldn't be effective, as their targets would have moved or armored – or worse, already be en route to strike back at their attackers.
"Did you see something ahead?" Starbuck asked from the navigation seat on the right side of the cockpit. "I'm sure I saw a flash in the sky."
"Probably a meteor," Raehab said, but locked the controls and scanned the darkening skies ahead of them. The transition from night to day could play tricks on a Vartan. But then he saw a flash as well. More than that; a twinkle. "Is it an early star? One of the other planets?" he asked Starbuck.
The navigator consulted his ephemeris and calculators. "Sinai appears in the west this time of year," Starbuck claimed, and turned to look in that direction. "We'll see it after the sun sets."
"That doesn't look like a planet or star, it's too flickery," Blaize comments, leaning over to get a better look. He flipped the switch connecting the bridge to the recon blister. "Gratzin, can you see anything ahead of us? We're clear of Silent-Ones territory, so it's safe to use the radar now."
"It's out of range, Commander," came the tinny reply from the speaker. "Shifting the telescope now."
"Let's try to get closer," Commander Blaize says, and Raehab gooses the throttles, pushing them up to their maximum speed of nearly 700 miles per hour.
"I think we have it, compensating for atmospheric distortion… got it!" the recon blister reports. "You aren't going to believe this, commander! It looks like … screeeeeech"
Static bursts from all the speakers, and entire panels of instruments go blank. The air in the pressurized cockpit begins to smell of electrical shorts. "Radar is going wild," Starbuck reports as Raehab desperately works to bypass shorted systems and switch to backups. "We're being cooked!" Starbuck cries out.
With the engine readouts dead, Raehab has to twist around to try to see them through the bulging windscreen. The ones he sees are stuttering and smoking, and there are electrical arcs dancing between the hardpoints on the wing.
"What is it?" Blaize scrawks.
"Really intense radar beam or… I think it's a maser beam!" Starbuck says, then looks up and cries out. Raehab feels it on his right side, which faces forward as he turns to watch the engines. The smell of cooked flesh. With an effort, he turns forward and pushes the control yolk into a dive to try and escape the beam. "Thicker air below, that'll shield us… " he thinks.
The fire alarm is also blaring, with the indicator showing its origin in the reconnaissance blister. More warning lights flash as the Phoenix dives, including the fuel pressure. Even with their tanks half empty, the beam heated the remaining liquid into vapor, causing the wing-tanks to bulge and the overpressure valves to open, leaving a burning trail behind the falling aircraft.
But the tactic worked. The maser beam stopped, even though the damage had been done. The controls were fried, film stocks destroyed, and there was no way to land the ship. "Altimeter still working?" the Commander croaks out, and Raehab doesn't want to turn to see how he fared. Instead he checks the instrument, which is still working. "Aye," Raehab rasps. Starbuck is silent and unmoving.
"Eject at 10,000 feet, Raehab," Blaize says. And those are his last words.
The booth is quiet after the Vartan finishes his tale and lights up a cigar. "I got picked up," Raehab concludes. "They couldn't save a lot of my right side, so I got these grafts. Work okay. Eye took forever to get used to. And that's the first time I saw the Phantom. Losing the Phoenix put the Confederation right back on an even footing with the rest. Maybe someone or something doesn't want one faction to have the upper hand."
The younger half-Vartan had been silent during the fateful story as she leaned back in her both, canine ears perked. By the time Raehab had finished his tale, she looks grim, and utterly riveted. After a deep breath she exhales and gazes down to the drink she had long since forgotten about. "How very ominous … " It doesn't sound like those quiet words are meant for him as Tasha stares in to the still amber liquid of her ale. There's a weight to them, mirrored in the way her ears sink. It makes her sound far older than she should. "A mazer in this day and age … To think, something with that level of technology – that level of power and energy output in the air – could exist. Even in the age of the Expedition, energy weapons weren't common, Raehab. Khattan, perhaps … But still … First Ones? Sifran? And, to what purpose? Unless … Could it be? Another civilization… ? Or … The planet?"
"High powered masers were used for communication on many Expedition ships," Riddle Smith points out, having returned with more drink during the story. "The Knights Templar had a working one, even. It could serve as a weapon at shorter ranges, but the power requirements were extreme."
"It had enough juice over hundreds of miles to cause currents in our skin and electronics, and sear exposed flesh," Raehab says. "For years I wondered whether it was as attack, or just a very intense radar scan."
"Kinetic weapons were typically preferable, at any rate. You could generate similar destructive power for far less energy and heat build up … So, perhaps a repurposed communication device? But the output … " Tasha's lips curl in a grimace – too many mysteries! Damn it, I'm not ready for this. She had come to the Pit to perform a relatively simple task and continue her political efforts, but now that mission seems far away, buried beneath shadows that seem to approach from every direction. "If it's anything less than a spacecraft, it's a serious technological leap. I'm not sure my Melchior can evade directed energy weapons, even through its active defenses. Not that I had the chance to test it, as I was … sidetracked."
"It doesn't seem to move much," Raehab notes, and offers the women cigars as well. Riddle lights right up. "I've observed it from high-altitude balloon over the years, and it's always in the same area."
Tasha accepts the cigar with a grateful nod, lighting up from the other woman's own. As she braces the length between her fingers she breathes in the scent and murmurs, "An observational outpost, perhaps. A repurposed starship with active stators … Perhaps a high powered scout vessel … or one of the communication satellite arrays … " Her head shakes. "Whatever it is, I think we can safely assume it is observing us, and that it … " Suddenly her eyes widen and her head jerks up, her hand nearly dropping the cigar. "The Bellerophon! If it comes here … !"
"It didn't attack your Gryphon," Raehab notes. "If it's Expedition in origin, it may not be a match for another Expedition vessel. That is, if it's technological in origin at all. Could be some sort of life-form."
"I didn't pursue it entirely; I was sidetracked by a ground contact which lead me in to a Forbidden Zone. Still, you may be right. And if it's a lifeform, well … That would be a fine addition to the recent collection. And, at least Bellerophon won't be in danger immediately." Tasha drops back in to her seat, taking a long drag of her cigar before she continues. Smoke curls from her nose and mouth; dim light and atmosphere serving to only add to the demonic touch it gives her. "This leaves us with the question of what to do about it, if anything. What do your organizations say?"
"Organizations?" Riddle asks, with a chuckle. "Hmm, the only 'attack' from the Phantom was perpetrated on a top-secret Confederate weapon that could have led to war if it was used. For the most part, everyone thinks the Phoenix simply malfunctioned and crashed on its own, rather than a claim that it was shot down by some alien force that only operates at extreme altitudes that nobody has the technology now to exploit… "
"It's ignored," Raehab says.
Tasha glances at the other woman, brows raising. "And yet we have an ex-Confederate secret weapon pilot, an ambassador to a peacekeeping force with curious ties to that pilot, and an actual Knight Templar pulling aside a member of a only recently revealed organization with advanced technology, to discuss this matter." That look of her's slides between the two present in the both for a moment. "So, I'm not sure what to think, here. If this is a warning or an effort to share information, than I appreciate your effort and risk. But, I think maybe you'd like me to do a bit more than listen and then go about my business?"
"We want you to be careful," Raehab says. "Stay below 20,000 feet. You closed to within a few hundred miles of the thing and it hid. It may not do that a second time. Your mission here in the Pit is the most important priority."
"Understand, Tasha – if Melchior is shot down, so is the JEF mission," Riddle adds.
"I see." A part of Tasha wants to go chase that sparkle, even if she isn't sure why. She didn't have these feelings when she arrived in the Pit; something changed in her that day she almost died, when she screamed inside that shell, faced her god, and lost her sense the world. Here she is with a chance to speak with not only an ambassador to the Knights, but an ex-Captain, and yet her voice is silent. The fire that had burned so brightly for her cause seems but a flicker now. Her gaze averts from the two watching her, aimed in to the darkness of the both and somewhere far away. "I'll do my duty," she murmurs. "I hadn't planned to act until after that is complete." Her ears fold back as she exhales, smoke pouring from her muzzle. She lets it rise for a moment, before admitting, "Thank you for your concern." The words seem as distant as her gaze.
"It wont go anywhere, and now there's a Forbidden Zone between us and it, more or less," Riddle says. "The reason I brought you to meet Raehab was because of those things in the zone. It got me thinking, and Raehab is the first one to tell me his notion that it might be a living creature or group of creatures. You've got airborne monsters on Sinai, don't you?"
"Aye," Tasha breathes. Her gaze shifts upward along with the vista in her head. Rahktors in a blue, blue sky … the strange washu … her old pteras … even the floating gardens. And, the islands … "Think it's opening the gate, is it?"
"No, it just may be an undiscovered species," Riddle suggests. "Every canal system here seems different. And there are old travelers tales of a desert area where monsters roam outside of the canals."
"The crystals are telling," Tasha adds after a moment, in afterthought. "Like the islands … Sifran anti-gravity, perhaps." She takes another long, slow drag of her cigar and lets it go, watching the smoke rise. "Someone once told me, this planet used to be a green world."
"We've got coal, so there must have been lots of biomass at some point," Riddle agrees.
"And maybe it will be, again. Maybe sooner than we think." Tasha looks back, lowering her cigar. "Was there anything else?"
"You seem pretty shaken," Riddle points out. "Are you okay?"
Tasha turns to glance at the other woman, smoke curling from her lips. "I'm fine," she lies. Her tone, a bit harsh, doesn't betray her as might once have. It's not until she looks away and the smoke clears that Raehab can just catch that her words may be untrue; barely visible in the dim light, her can see that her hand is shaking.
"I think she's tired," Raehab suggests. "Too old for hearing old ghost stories, hey?"
"Too many ghosts," is Tasha's reply.
"I can take you back to your apartment if you want," Riddle offers.
"Thanks." The red-furred woman nods, then glances towards the Captain and nods to him as well. "It was good to meet you, Captain."
"I'm here most evenings, if you want to talk or drink," Raehab says.
Tasha nods again. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you," she says, then she begins to stand.
Malachite nods as the women leave the booth. "We're going back to the Council campus," Riddle tells the reptile, who then leads the way out of the Bloody Duffel.
Tasha leaves her ale unfinished back at the booth, but keeps the cigar with her as she follows the two out of the run down dive. As the make their way through the shadow-darkened sidestreets, she says out of the blue, "I owe you two an apology."
"For what?" Riddle asks, her eyes sharp. It's dark now, but it's not clear just who or what she's watching for.
Tasha's gaze shifts as she notices the woman's sudden alertness, but otherwise she remains subdued. "I don't think I'm quite myself," the half-Vartan continues, tapping her cigar to clear the ash. "It seems like, there's a lot I should be saying. A lot I wanted to say. But, I don't have it in me right now." The cigar returns to her muzzle, and she inhales, tilting her head back to stare in to the darkened sky. "Eli's a good man. You know, don't you?"
"Know what?" the woman turns to ask, one eyebrow raised.
A coil of smoke rises from Tasha's mouth, trailing in to the sky. Her head shakes. "It doesn't matter."
"Okay," the woman notes, checking around a corner. "Do you know when your bandages come off?" she asks.
"You know, they didn't tell me?" Tasha follows after the woman, glancing around more out of curiosity than concern. She can't help but feel like she ought to be more unsettled that her guide is being so cautious, but her fear is diminished. Instead, a pervasive anxiety has replaced it, when it isn't back in full. She knows what speaks for her fears, and this place may have to step in line. "Soon, I'd think."
Riddle picks up her pace when they come into view of the Council buildings. "I think we'll make it back okay," she tells Tasha. "They don't usually like to be out this late."
"Something bothering you, Ambassador?" Tasha asks as she continues along after her.
"Reporters," the human claims. "With all the ruckus your vanishing act caused, they'll be chomping at the bit to get to you. Unless what's-her-name, the latest PR witch mollified them."
At the mention of reporters of all things, Tasha's calm facade falters. She pulls her cigar from her muzzle and suddenly looks around, eyes wider, ears laid back; a Karnor suddenly finding itself on the wrong side of a hunt. "Yes, let's hurry then," she agrees in an unsettled and insistent tone at odds with her earlier detached tone.
Without quite breaking into an attention-grabbing jog, the trio make it into the lobby of the Council building. The door guards nod and tip their hats.
Tasha returns the nod with one of her own, but keeps one eye on the doorway just in case. "That went well," she admits, turning back to her guide. "I'm not sure what I'd do if I had to deal with reporters right now." She glances down the hall towards her room, but her gaze shifts, and she's looking down another hall. "I think I'm going to head in. Ambassador, thank you for your time. We should talk again."
"Of course, Cadet," Riddle Smith says, smiling. "Just let me know when you'd like a tour of the Winged Citadel."
Glancing back, Tasha nods to the other woman. "I will, thank you." She bobs her head, and then the half-Vartan is off and walking. The dim light of her cigar flickers across her face as she enters the hall, searching for Zerachiel's quarters.
It would probably of helped if the doctor had actually told her the number. Instead Tasha has to rely on scent – which is awkward since she's also got a cigar. Eventually she just hears the man's voice through a partly open door.
The mistake is just one more in a series of unsettling problems troubling the woman, but she hasn't time to think on what it means when she hears the voice. "Doctor … ?"
"Tasha?" Zerachiel replies from inside, and then opens the door the rest of the way. "Is that a cigar?" he asks.
"Aye," the young woman replies to both questions. She offers it to the man as she asks, "Can I come in? I need to talk."
"Oh, certainly," he says, opening the door the rest of the way. His apartment looks just like Tasha's, but with a lot of extra cases. The desk is covered in notes and several data pads. He waves off the cigar though. "I've almost got all of the calibration data processed, so we can tune the instrument pack tomorrow if you're up to it… "
"Good, good," Tasha says, rather hurriedly. She closes the door behind her after she enters, then flips the lock. "Turn on one of your recording datapads, there's something I need to talk about and it'd be good to have it recorded in case something happens."
"Uh, alright," Eli says, giving Tasha a worried look. He picks up one of the data pads and props it up so the microphone and camera are pointed at Tasha. "What is it you want to talk about?"
"Thanks." Rather than sit anywhere, Tasha begins to pace restlessly. As she pulls the cigar from her lips she begins to talk in a voice that steadily matches the anxiety in her steps. "Well, then. I don't know how to say this. You've known me a while, haven't you? I trust you as much as I trust anyone. And, someone needs to hear this. Maybe it was all a dream, but then again, maybe it's not. And if something happens, someone needs to know. Gabriel needs to know." She pauses long enough to take a deep pull, then continues. "Right, so, how do I put it. I had a dream after Melchior took me and retreated from the Zone – thank you for covering for me by the way – and, oi, see, I thought it was nothing. Then your presentation comes, and suddenly it seems like more than nothing. See, Eli, I already knew. I knew this world had been green. I knew, because he told me."
"And because of the coal?" Eli asks. "But who told you?"
"I had no idea coal came from fossil remains until after my return," Tasha points out. "And who, who … " She stops again, this time glancing over, smoke coiling across her face. "Eli, you remember what they called me back then, don't you? When I woke you all up? Or maybe you forgot?"
"Aldara?" Eli asks. "I didn't understand the language they spoke."
"Aldara," Tasha agrees, pointing her cigar at the man. "That's right. Aldara Tasha. But that was the name they gave me, not my title. Did I ever tell you, how I came to find the Fenris? Why I, a foreigner in a xenophobic land, was leading a well equipped and supported band with the blessing of its people?"
"I honestly don't remember too much from before those priestesses and the… bathtubs of healing or whatever they were," Eli admits. "You'd better refresh my memory… and put it on the record of course."
"Right, it's fine – I don't expect you'd remember after all you went through. Well, then … " Tasha's cigar is half gone when she takes another drag. She exhales, taking a moment to gather herself before continuing. "They called me the Herald of Abaddon, Eli. You see, I followed Calli from Rephidim to her part of the world right out of the blue one day, and after a lot of politics and self-doubt, I ended up playing the part of Tisiphone, Herald of Abaddon. One of them, anyway. But, see, I gave myself away, and they still kept me in the role – even the High Priestess. She knew, of course. Knew I was just a girl who wanted guidance. She tutored me, and eventually they did an augury in a ritual to Abaddon. And, you know where that lead." She points at the man, then raises a brow. "Interesting, isn't it Eli? The foreigner who happens to look like their Herald, happens to follow someone out of the blue, and then is lead right to the Fenris, with a dead woman who happens to look almost exactly like me?"
"I don't know how magic works, exactly," Eli replies. "But I'm pretty certain there is no such thing as destiny. There are self-fulfilling prophecies of course… but you've also got gods on Sinai that can take an active, if subtle, role in things. But are you suggesting that the god Abaddon on Sinai used you to recover the Fenris and set things in place to retrieve the Bellerophon as well?"
"You tell me? I'm not sure of anything at the moment, but I know what I've experienced, and I know what I've seen, and through it all, I've had a sense of coincidence upon coincidence, and I'm not the only one to notice. Maybe it's nothing, and I've become paranoid with what … " She pauses, staring ahead with eyes a little too wide before she suddenly takes a deep inhale. The breathe she releases is ragged, and full of stress. "Well," she continues, waving a hand, " … lets focus on this for now. Where was I … Ahh, Abaddon."
Resuming her pacing, the young woman lowers her voice as she explains. "After the … event, I went a bit crazy, we'll say. I needed to be by myself. See the sky. Feel it. Get out of that armor that was suffocating me, the cockpit … Well. I fell asleep. And there I was again, same place, same hill … But, it was green Eli. Green as Sinai. And he called out to me. He, who looked like my brother. Said he had been waiting to meet me; said I had forgotten who I came to me. You know who he identified himself as, right? Aye. He said His world had been green once, and will be again. That we'd cause it. He and I. He and I … after the invaders were gone."
"Tasha, you were suffering from hypothermia," Eli notes. "You could have been hallucinating, imagining your fears, or else trying to deal with the fright you'd just had. This world will be green again, probably, without you or I or anyone doing anything. It doesn't make sense for a god who claims to need you to leave you out there to be chewed on by giant… bug-rats. Why didn't he warn you about them?"
Tasha watches the man speak out of the corner of her eye, working her cigar slowly. When he finishes, she looks grim. "Because he was punishing me. Let me backtrack." Another huff, an exhale, and she says, "When I arrived, I thought I was dead, aye? I cried out against it – Gabriel was right by the way – and he said, "You can't die, that would ruin everything." Everything, because, he said, it would be our children who would go amongst the invaders and inflame them to destroy each other, leaving the world for them. And, I was afraid. I asked who the invaders were … and he changed. The humans and their dogs, spotted cats … slithering snakes … flying vermin … He became a monster, Eli. And, when I told him I didn't want that, him towering over me … him with … with that … " The woman stops, sucking in a breath, her cigar forgotten in her hand. It takes her a moment, but she manages in a near whisper voice, "He … he said it … does it matter what I want? Would it? A threat to you … to the Bellerophon … Gabriel … and I wouldn't have a choice. So, you have to know. You have to know, in case it's … it's more Eli."
"You always have a choice, Tasha, and you always have," Eli says softly. "No supernatural force made you do any of this, or forced your mind. It was you who decided. If you think otherwise, then you'll always be second-guessing yourself and you'll go crazy."
"I don't second guess myself Eli. I've lived with Nora's memories and the idea other things were controlling me; this wouldn't be any different. What I'm worried about isn't … It's not that. No, it is. But not that way. Eli, if it's a choice between doing what he says and seeing him hurt any of you, these people … It will be my choice to do what he wants, for you." Tasha finally stops pacing, turning to face the man fully. "There are a thousand ways he could compel me by my own beliefs to side with him. That's why you have to know. I fear everything he could do to me, but it's to me. It's you, and Gabriel, Nora, Fred, Mariel I fear for most! I need to know, if I have to make that decision, that you will be able to understand and react to me if something happens."
"I don't know what you mean," Zerachiel says, pulling back a bit. "Are you saying we should stop you if you start acting crazy?"
"I guess … I guess that is what I mean, Eli. I know it's hard to figure out – I do a lot of crazy things, don't I? But, they may be worse than crazy. If he should manage to get me to side with him, I may be required to do things detrimental to the people of this world. It may be me, or my children. Maybe he'll just use me and throw me away, or maybe he wants me to continue earning a place in this world he can exploit, but he may also try and use me directly. And, should that happen, I want you to know why. I want you to know I did it because I'm protecting someone. And for that to mean anything, I may need you – all of you – to stop me."
"This is all assuming that the being you met in your dream was real," Zerachiel says. "But don't worry, Tasha. We've taken care of you when you went off the deep end before."
Tasha takes another puff, glancing at her cigar as she sees it's almost gone. Letting out a sigh, she shakes her head. "It was such a good cigar, too," she laments. Stepping forward, she lays the slowly dying butt on the edge of the table before taking a seat beside the man. "There's always uncertainties, Eli. I've seen many things in my dreams and visions, some that had meaning, and others that did not. My visions helped lead me here, and guide me still. I can never fully dismiss even the unlikely ones, because they've been too important in the past. Still, maybe you're right, and I'm still a … No," her head shakes, "I know I'm a mess from what happened. Gabriel was right; you never expect to fail. When you try and life slaps you down, and you survive, it changes you. He told me that, when I asked about the Expedition. I guess now … Now failing seems very real, and it's good to know at least one of its worries is now taken care of."
"Besides, didn't you have to deliberately do something to cause visions before?" Eli asks. "I know you locked yourself in with the artifacts on Orpheus. And your other ones you say came in a temple. Have you often had any as dreams though before?" He puts an arm around her shoulders as well.
"No … But I did fly in to a Forbidden Zone in an Expedition-era Titan, and survive. That alone may have done it. And the way Melchior reacted … He seemed confused at first as to how we escaped, but then he just claimed it was 'emergency procedures.' Oi." The young woman leans against the doctor's shoulder, head shaking. "I guess I just won't know until something happens. If it does. It's just good to finally tell someone, and to know, if it does, that I did my best to protect against it. I think I can focus on other things, now. Thank you, Eli." A little smile crosses her face, and she admits, "You know, when I had landed that day, and I saw you blood-shot and sleepless … I was really happy. I thought, "it's bad of me, but I'm really happy someone cared that much.""
"I wasn't the only one," Zerachiel notes. "That Silent-Ones Archon was there overnight, but his tutor or whoever she is dragged him off eventually, and Lightfoot was there, at the edge of the field where the civilians were quite often."
"You're all so good to me; I'm really not sure why. I run off, I chase sparks in the sky, yell, lose my way, and you're all still here with me, supporting me. I couldn't stand to see anything happen to any of you. I … ," Tasha blinks, reaching to rub at her eye. "Ha … Now I'm crying. There's one more for you."
"I think you've also had a bit to drink tonight," Eli says with a grin. "We should both get some rest or we'll be useless tomorrow."
"I know. Thanks, Eli." Tasha reaches over and gives the man a hug, then stands and retrieves her cigar butt. "I guess you can just lock that file and forget about it; you're probably right that we'll never need it. I … " Her gaze turns, and she glances at the door. "I should rest and try and pull myself together for tomorrow. I've been such a mess I've let opportunities slip by, but at least I learned that glimmer was more than my imagination. Masers, of all things … Well," she glances back, smiling more broadly than she has since that fateful flight, "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Sleep well, Tasha," Eli says, and adds, "And remember that sometimes dreams are just dreams, and a cigar is just a cigar."
"Aye. You're a smart one, Doc. As I told Remy, I'm lucky to know men like you. Sleep well, hokay?" She gives a little wave, then unlocks the door and steps out. As the door closes behind her, Eli can just catch a glimpse of her giving her cigar a thoughtful look.
