Faust Pharmaceuticals loomed before Roland Pruitt, the open cloudless sky of the spring day a great canvas, the subject in its medium the great jewel of possibility. If he was going to start over for real, no masks or aliases, then he was going every last grueling inch of the way to see it through. An appointment had sat on his calendar for a day. Miss Faust wanted to see him. At the formal office, no less. If this wasn't the beginning, nothing was.

After an announcement was made, Roland was given the nod by security to proceed to the private elevator, a one way trip to the office. Security, heh. His eyes filed over them as an appraiser might valuable artwork. Only one wouldn't be fired. The car itself was immaculate, hardwood floors, polished ebony and mahogany inlays. The back stood as a full length mirror, so those who were not prepared for meetings to make a last attempt. Roland didn't have that problem.

He was wearing Armani, custom tailored by the man. The suit was a charcoal gray, a silk red power tie in accompaniment. Shining in luxurious confidence at his feet were a pair of New & Lingwood Russian calf shoes, made from reindeer. He had taken a day at spa prior, having a facial and his pores cleansed. Only a powerful mutant like Miss Faust could recognize the statement. Mortal women would be on the floor. He let a chuckle escape his lips. "If looks could kill, I'd collect quite the bounty on you, Sir."

The gentle chime of the car awakened him and he turned on his heel, the doors opening gently before him. Roland took a step into the grand office of Miss Lori Faust, surveying the design of both area and person. He waited patiently for her to speak.

The office was small with an all window wall that overlooked the fountain in front of the building. Silhouetted against that bright sky was Lori Faust, today a vision in dove gray. She didn't turn immediately when the door opened. She gave him a moment to acquaint himself and that gave her a moment to think things over one last time. She was a solo player by nature and now it was time to trust. It just wasn't an easy thing to do.

The furniture was contemporary classic. Dark wood and modern lines that somehow made the pieces appear solid but not heavy. The plants? The janitorial staff had a hand in those or else they wouldn't be there. A vase with fresh cut majestic red calla lilies sat in a silver vase set on a glass table.

"Assuming you won't be bringing interpol to our front door..." She turned and her makeup was dramatic. Charcoal lined eyes and a deep red lips. It explained the more muted color of her dress. Even with a dipping neckline and jewelry, her lips were easily the focus of the outfit. "I want you in on this."

It was clear that this was an office actually used. Papers, white boards, paperclips, textbooks, the place had much the same contents as her bedroom and not an electrical piece of equipment in sight. Not that there weren't any. Just that they were kept in ESD safety lined drawers among other places.

She slid a few papers aside with her knuckles and pulled out a packet from underneath cover letters and faxes. It was her winter's work and she was just now coming to the realization that she needed help in making it happen. She passed it across the table. "Currently Faust Pharmaceuticals is developing a cure for the mutant problem." That was sarcasm, by the way, but the press seemed to love the idea.

The cover letter read "Cooperative Activation of Dormant Genetic Expressions."

"That's cooperative in that it involves mutual assistance. The gene must be present on their part and research has yet to separate out the specific catecholamines that would work across the board, but I think they're close. Or maybe I'm just paying them to tell me they're close." Her hair went back over her shoulder. No pony tail, french curl or ESD wicks today. Just Lori. She might clean up nice, but deep at heart she was a nerd.

"The process is mediated by transcriptional mechanisms in the adrenal medulla and the locus coeruleus. In essence we're simulating the stress conditions that typically activate the X-gene." It was all in the report. If he cared to read it.

Her hand flittered around left then right to clear the air. She was doing this all wrong. "There's an inherent flaw in that activation requires an X-gene. We're working on that too, but I need something from you." And this was really the most important part. "Cooperation. Or rather, I want you to head a lot of the actualities of the program stemming of of this one. We're getting into territory that can't quite stay above board." And who better to head those activities than a man who had remained personally submerged in subterfuge for years?

Roland wasn't the only one dressing to impress. He had certainly expected her to be striking, she always had been. Seeing her in this office, with so much work being done, one could see that Lori Faust always did her research. The first evidence of this theory being a certain quip about Interpol, which received the grin that it demanded." You're not worried about Miss Duskmoor's activities with the NYPD. You're not worried about me." He took a seat across the table from her, leaning back a tad while crossing his legs slightly.

The report slid across to him, caught by a single palm placed on the table. His eyes skimmed the material as she explained it to him. Her ideas were fresh, while not completely original. What was anymore? His eyes would flash up to her own as she explained the process in detail and the current state of the project. He appreciated her not dumbing the data down for him, though he found her plan to be only a facet. Listening on, the intent and general variety of 'actualities' mentioned piqued Roland's interest.

" Whatever work you need done is done. Give me the details and each task will be completed to the letter." The file was tossed back across the table. "Sounds like you may need some raw genetic material to work with. I assume you have a short list?" Whatever the case, precision and perfection were now a matter of fact. Roland's run-in with Kealey Quinn had illuminated the many flaws in his routines. It was all too sloppy, even if other influences were involved..

His fingers tousled through his goateeish beard. " While I'm interested in learning more for these plans, I must admit, I thought you might want to talk about another project that is in sore need of overhaul. It also exists in the realm of things that aren't above board. I speak of the Order. I hope we can discuss that as well."If she knew about Interpol, why stop at the threshold? This journey was going to be coast to coast.

Lori wasn't worried about the NYPD because the NYPD knew their place. (That would be in her pocket or dead.) Anything outside of the states was beyond Lori's realm of expertise. Interpol was an unknown. Until she knew their workings, she couldn't count on them leaving Mr. Pruitt be. There was just so much she needed to know.

But he was right. It was in his best interest to keep his head down and his (and thereby Lori's) *** covered.

She liked that he gave her an echo of a 'you said jump, so i'm asking how high' with his questions. She was happy to answer the ones that she could and organize the information for the rest. But there was something missing from the Roland Pruitt picture. Something he seemed to want to address on some level, otherwise he wouldn't be bringing up structure.

Lori pulled a pen and jotted down what she needed to get to Roland.

"Roland, if the Order needs changing, help me change it. I said that I want you in. I didn't meant that I want you to robotically fulfill orders. I mean that I want you to help me take The Order above and beyond expectation. I think you know just how far is too far and how far is not enough. I don't have to, nor do I want to, baby sit you. You seem to do well enough on your own." They could use a few more like him, in fact, to babysit the others. But since there was just one of him, he was best suited to ply his art.

His thuggery was masterful. His murder? Precision. His reputation didn't paint that picture (though the research did help spurn her decision), it was the tasks she'd set for him so far. He made the business of being a criminal into an art form.

If he had specific business to discuss then this was the place and time.

Roland watched the young leader speak to him in a way that many people had spoken to him. No one wanted messy details or more information. They wanted results and they wanted them now. It had to be a b**** to work management. " I understand what you're saying. I want the Order to rise and become a force to be reckoned with as well. So for that, we are on the same page. However, when I have business partners, I have to know where they are coming from. The angle." Old Roland had no interest either way. Give him the job and have the payment ready. New(old) Roland had his personal interests staked into the Sanctuary, the Order and Faust. Both the company and the woman.

His legs uncrossed and he sat up straight, his eyes focused on Lori. " I think we are more alike than you might initially believe, Lori. I've heard the fiery rhetoric about mutant supremacy. It's a believable tale, but who really cares about it? Let those Christian soldiers march onward. I think that you and I are above that and we want to see things done for different reasons. I can keep it between us, but please don't give me the propaganda. Tell me what is driving you and what makes you want to succeed where others failed. Give me a reason to respect you and follow you into Hell."

Roland couldn't blindly take orders anymore. He was glad that she didn't want a robot, because he wasn't one. Nor was he a babysitter. " Do you think I have any more interest in day to day operations and wiping the noses of untrained kids anymore than you do? Of course not. But someone has to do it. If you give me the keys to the castle, I can get things in order. Trouble is, you might not approve of my methods. I think coddling and pats on the back are for those at the Mansion. If I begin training soldiers, I expect them to be used in war."

Standing from the table, A dry erase marker found its way to Roland's hand. He glanced over some scientific mumbo jumbo and erased it. " I'm sure you have this written down elsewhere." Once the slate was clean, he proceeded to write three words across the top of the board, each underlined. FaustPharm. Sanctuary. Order.

The angle? She had to lean back and think on that one. "You're right. It's not quite the zealous superiority speeches." The steepling of her fingers helped. It really did. "I want to say it's about control. People keep giving it up so I may as well keep collecting it." Though it was unlikely that a bit of resistance would keep her from steam rolling people now that she had a bit of backup. She'd been doing it for years one person at a time. Now was the time to put that experience to good use. "It's a little bit more than just that, though. The science is fascinating." The science of people, the genetics, the way that they all interacted and thought and loved and wanted to be loved. It was truly fascinating to watch them dangle from the little strings attached to her fingers. Pull one strand and the weave changed.

"I want a safe place: a base of operations, a family and a home worth living in. The makeup of the family is irrelevant, but the trust is important. If I know what motivates them then I'll know how to predict their actions. It's what you're doing with me now by asking these questions." It was true. He was working on gauging her reactions, her motivations. If he knew how she thought then he would know what he could say and do around her to get the best response. It was exactly what she would do had their roles been reversed. "I want to know more about our kind and more about the threats around us, especially the power-nullifying Adapteds. I want every advantage I can have to keep what I claim."

Roland seemed to really be getting into it the logistics, though and that was good. She could practically feel his ambition rolling off in waves. They were similar alright.

"I don't think an all out war is wise at this point, Roland Pruitt, but I see your analogy." Lori was slowly breathing as much subtlety as she could muster into the order. Maybe their powers weren't subtle (especially since they had a lot of the mutants with visible mutations), but that didn't mean they had to be brutes about asserting their dominance.

Her mouth actually opened to stop him from erasing that but... it was too late. She might have that elsewhere. Probably. Maybe. She could at least recreate it. She ended up with her elbow on the table and her face cupped in her hand. He took care with his letters. She liked that too.

"And what is this?"

Roland was impressed with himself. Certainly not the first time. Lori actually thought about something he had to say. No smarm or sass. No waving off of the details. He felt he might actually be close to being engaged in conversation with the slippery sylph. "I want to say it's about control. People keep giving it up so I may as well keep collecting it." Roland let a staccato chuckle slip at this comment. How couldn't he? It sounded like something he would say. The next thing about science seemed logical, considering the amount of books, research materials and papers which covered the area. It also seemed like a way to rein in any personal slips.

"I want a safe place: a base of operations, a family and a home worth living in. The makeup of the family is irrelevant, but the trust is important. If I know what motivates them then I'll know how to predict their actions. It's what you're doing with me now by asking these questions." That seemed to be a fair analysis of things. Trust was important to Roland as well. ' I can see what you mean, but I was actually interested in your agenda also. I appreciate your candor."

The meeting was going well and two seemed to be enjoying themselves. Then, then. The subject of the Adapteds came up. Before he answered her question as to what he was doing on the board, an aura of steeling himself shrouded the man. " I think it is important to mention that I have a particular hatred for those aberrations. I have no fear of their particular quality, but considering that it was one of them that gave me back the face I was born with, well, I hope you understand if I don't share your enthusiasm for study. I'd much rather just wipe them clean off the planet's face."

The air around him seemed to sizzle and pop with his inherent rage for the Adaptards. he took a slow breath and exhaled, nodding slightly as the moment had curtailed. As if it had never occurred, he turned to the board, marker in hand. A long line was drawn vertically to the left of the the first category. Roland began writing names down. His own, Lori's, Isabel, the word clones in quotations, Shade, Aura...the marker tapped in dots against the board. " Is this it? The current roster? I hope not or we had better put recruiting up high on the list. Anyway, I wanted to go through the various members we already have and decide their roles in each endeavor, as listed here. Additions or suggestions?"

"I would take Shade off that list. I haven't seen him since I made him practice side along teleportation." He was supposed to be the one to get her in to break out Giant's Bane. Instead, she'd had to rely on more traditional methods and an adatped. Which Roland loathed. She would keep that information tucked away for later dissection.

"You're missing Calley, Giant's Bane and Cormack, a fire manipulator." At this point they were even using Giant's Bane, known failed double agent, as a member. Lori leaned back in her chair again. "Recruiting is pretty high up there, but we don't want to hand the keys to the kingdom to everyone." Giant's Bane came to mind in particular.

"Isabel has actually recruited our most recent and has another scouted. I don't know if she finds them or if they're drawn in by her bow." According to Isabel, the potential was bonkers and had some strange clothing fetishes. It didn't take a mind to follow orders, though. If he could follow orders. "She holds Giant's Bane's leash and is good in a fight. I'd might give her a recruitment title. Baucchus can be a mail clerk." Her eyes flicked down the list. "Aura should go in accounting or collections, she's my go to girl for enforcement of mutant insurance payment." Flash some pink and people got out their checkbooks. Or died. Their choice, really.

Clones can go in every field from baker to candle stick maker." Their personal sets of skills were that diverse. Though, with the loss of Pluto, they'd all been a bit mopey lately. "At the Sanctuary, their presence alone is enough to keep most law enforcement at bay."

And then there was Calley. Mischievous, intelligent, impossible to pin down or gauge. She needed to spend more time with him to indoctrinate him fully. "Calley is good with specific direction. A bit squeamish about hurting people. He has connections to various mutants around town. Like Slate and the Mansion's Katrina."

"Cormack is entirely unknown to me. Isabel brought him in and I have yet to test him out."

No Shade. That seemed alright with Roland, though it did bring a question to mind. " Was this training with Shade before or after Romania? I ask because when Saturn and I cleared the vault, Shade was there. He knocked the power out so we could bring down the vault. Something to keep in mind." With a quick stroke of the eraser, he was off the list. In his place, he put the name Calley. It rang no bells whatsoever. At the bottom of the list, he added the other two names.

It took a moment to register once he looked at it. Giant's Bane Wasn't that the name of --" Bacchus can be a mail clerk." His head shook from side to side as he began to chuckle. " Bacchus? Really? Huh. I guess all of the little tyrant's disgruntled employees filter down to the Order. Bacchus.....Wow." It was interesting that Miss Duskmoor held the leash. It was fortunate that someone did. Even moreso that there was another new hire already. Fire manipulator. That sounded fruitful.

Sidestepping the clones for now, Roland placed the marker on the desk with his hand. Looking down at the HMIC(Head Mutant In Charge), he decided to let some more information be known. It was better out of his mouth rather than whatever probing she liked to do. "I don't recall if I had mentioned that I worked for Slate. I did work for him in Colombia, working alongside that pig, Bacchus. I resigned from the Kabal on my own, having disagreed with his policies during that time." He imagined the little blue eyed terror in his own sweatbox. It brought a smile to his face.

"Before Romania. I had... special flying arrangements so I didn't get to socialize on the plane. Wouldn't want to have taken it down." More often than not her mutation was a hinderance rather than a help, but even so it was the best ally she had.Was Slate the little tyrant? He seemed harmless enough, playing off in the corner with his little toys.

"Bacchus believes he makes for a great spy. I think a mime wearing a tee shirt that said "I am a spy" would do less harm in that position. Slate was eager enough to leave him in jail and I think if Isabel has enough sway to keep his bad habits in useful territory." The tall girl with the green bow was sweet on Bacchus. Why? Lori thought she might be a bit of a masochist.Lori hadn't known that Dean --No. Roland. She had to keep that straight-- had worked for Slate, but he had a different face then. Maybe even a different face than he had shown to her at the Sanctuary. He was a wily one.

"I assume from your tone you disapprove of him in general." Though less than his disapproval of Adapted humans. It was a good play if it was false distaste, but she mentally flagged him as a potential spy anyway.

"He's afraid of me you know." Which was maybe why she'd heard so little from him since she'd assumed the Order's reigns.

Lori's eyes cooled down to a hard glassy surface. As if the person inside had retracted from the lenses. They were killing eyes. Business eyes. "I killed him once." And she would kill Roland too if the need arose. She hoped he didn't give her reason.

It was always so messy when mutants turned on each other. It was best when they worked together.

A twinkle came to Roland's eye as he imagine little Lori in a large cargo plane, locked down in some grounding contraption. Must have been a b****, whatever it was. He listened with a vague interest as her own thoughts on Bacchus were voiced. He nodded and grinned when appropriate, though he found the process interesting. It was as if the mask of cold indifference was immediately dropped like a curtain. For a moment, he just watched Lori Faust the woman speak.

"I assume from your tone you disapprove of him in general.He's afraid of me you know." Roland put the marker back on its resting place, returning to his seat before the Order's current leader. " I disapprove of anyone who is coarse in their actions. He has no interest in efficiency. To me, that makes him obsolete. I'm not his or anyone else's conscience." He chose to ignore the comment about fear. What made Bacchus afraid was as interesting to him as the source of a stain. You just clean it and move on.

Be it recognition of Roland's voyeurism of her true face or just a show of strength, he watched as her eyes became glassy, like shark eyes. This was either something very smart or very stupid. Was she actually going to test his resolve? If so, she was in for quite a surprise. While he made sure not to bring any guns or anything else metallic, he certainly didn't meet with a boss unarmed. Doing so would mean failing the many interviews that bosses, especially of the unscrupulous variety, liked to drop on new hires unawares. Her mention of killing Bacchus went unnoticed. This was definitely going to be an interview.

" I don't die so easily, Lori. And I never come to a party without favors.' His hands flourished before him on the table, his Stealth Hawk knife appearing before him there. " Undetectable and untouched by magnetic influence. Enters the throat like slot A and tab B. I'm not Bacchus."

Damn paramagnetics. With enough juice even organic materials could be repelled, but... that was a lot of juice. It took time to ramp up that high, magnetically speaking, and even then couldn't be guaranteed to help if it was as simple as teleporting this into that. And apparently it was. Roland had just let her know that she was constantly at his mercy.

Harmless girl, tiny ballerina, little plaything, useless daughter. She'd been at many people's mercy over the years. It was a mantle she'd thought she'd outgrown. It was possible that she would never outrun people who thought they could do anything to her and get away with it. She made another mental note to weave a tight web around her Roland.

Wait Bacchus? Had she been unclear? Lori thought back a few steps before slot A and slot B.

"I didn't kill Bacchus." Though she had left him for dead in a burning building once. Oopsies. Her hands folded together, the cool digits interlocking out of pure habit. "It was Slate." It was he who had a healthy fear of her, not Bacchus. The giant was too stupid for that.

And despite the fact that she had helped bring him back, he retained that healthy fear. Not that it'd done her any good yet except supposedly keeping Slate off her back. At least now, she held the key to the healer's destruction. All she had to do was touch him and let go.

Fear and love were powerful motivators. Fear would not work on Roland. Not the traditional type anyway. She didn't think him entirely capable of love. He seemed a creature more like herself. Power, logic, comfort. It would take a delicate weave to keep him, but he was worth the effort.

"And where do you fit in, Mister Pruitt?" His name was mysteriously absent on her roster.

The blade seemed to work like a magnet of its own, pulling Lori back from her icy claws of death. It was back to the blond with the heart of..hmm, electrum? Roland's hand palmed the knife and he manually slid it into his waistband beneath his jacket. The point was made, the reaction assured. If there was a pass/fail, she hadn't made any mention of failing, so that only left the fortunate end.

More of this killing business. Maybe this girl was just that. A lost little girl shoved into the limelight whether she wanted to be there or not. That or she was just as dangerous as Roland, putting out false vibes in order to sucker him into thinking her meek. It was an Oscar-worthy approach, as at the moment he was thinking ditz all the way. "I didn't kill Bacchus. It was Slate." Roland grinned again, his mind returning to Colombia. " Well, Bacchus probably deserved it considering his actions in the jungle. I never thought Slate the killing type." He shrugged it off.

Shortly it seemed that all was well and he had indeed passed. That or perhaps the interview never ended. ""And where do you fit in, Mister Pruitt?" Finally, the question. There was just one opportunity to spell things out clearly. "It's apparent to me that you are in a bit over your head right now. You have too many plates, much less what's on those plates. I know that the clones had a high rank when I arrived, but honestly, where are they now? You are the only one I've seen display any sort of leadership capacity. So, I'd like to be your go to. Simply put, if you want something done efficiently and quickly, I am the one you call. I want full disclosure as far as these various pursuits are concerned. You can sit behind your desk and work on whatever it is you work on, but I am not an office kind of guy. I need to keep myself busy or things happen." She could take it or leave it.

Was he playing with her? Taunting her? Or was he really just that horrible at empathizing with others? (She left stupid off that list on purpose.)

A moment's deadpan assessment told her that murderers and thieves often had trouble empathizing with their victims and if that was the case it wasn't that hard to imagine that Roland, accomplished at many,many forms of villainy, would have trouble interpreting her intonations. If she wanted him to know that she'd killed Slate now she was going to have to write it in the sky. That wasn't the kind of theatric she had been shooting for. She didn't want showoff. She wanted ruthless, respectable and ingenious.

He wasn't bumbling over himself to call her any of those things. Instead he felt the need to share how he'd noticed her struggle to stay above water. And it really had been a struggle. She didn't trust much of anyone with what she'd been cooking up... until now. Now she'd called Roland here. For empathy.

Stupid she reserved for herself in this situation.

"Roland, I called you here today. Not a clone. Not Isabel." Certainly not a lot of other people. She collected her papers and her mind. He had distracted her from what she'd been saying with his needy little exercise. Lori stood and handed him the slip of paper that she'd jotted a few things down.

Names. This wasn't staying above the board anymore because she wanted to speed it up with the perfect sample set.

"Alexandra Kettler. Her father was pseudo responsible for the Romania fiasco. I met her in a pool of the blood of her enemies in Romania." Lori dug in her desk for a different folder. She didn't have a photo of Ms. Kettler, but the rest... "I found out she's an X trainee of all things. I think her talents would be better suited for our purpose. For this purpose." Lori thumped her packet of genetic activations she'd tried to share with Roland earlier. He wasn't interested in the science and that was fine. She would call a spade what it was.

"With the right application of pressure she'd be a team player. Keep her on a tight enough leash and maybe one day she'll realize she actually likes it here." Lori pulled out a photo taken from KP's jumbled data banks next. "I need you to get me this one." The man was poised for a fight. His body was covered in reflective material and he had equally reflective swords in his hands. "He's head of Mansion security." Which meant it would be a challenge and nice smack in the face for the X-men. Lori wanted them to know that they could take what they wanted. Nothing was sacred or safe. "Take them quiet. I don't care what you do with Silverpants, but if you can avoid leaving a sour taste in Alexandra's mouth do it. I just need her agreeable enough to use her talents for us."

It was a tall order. She had every confidence in his successful return with both captives. "I need these too, but none of them should be a challenge." Two no names. A teacher with x-ray vision, a pharmacist with drool that turned things into different colors. Actual genetic gold mines. "I'll pass a few others on to the ones I think can handle it, but I need a strategic strike to keep this from coming back to us. Catch and release." Nice and scientific like.

"Bring them here to me on this day." She pointed at the scrawl of numbers at the bottom of the slip of paper. "I'll be ready to take all the samples we need." And hopefully she would be prepared to talk Alexandra into what she wanted from her.

"Roland, I called you here today. Not a clone. Not Isabel."

That pretty much summed it up. Roland appreciated brevity. If she wanted to shoot the breeze, it was done best over drinks, preferably a nightcap. It seemed that she was ready to give him his job, so he listened carefully. As much as he wanted to sit quietly and listen to what she had to say, the things she was saying seemed to scream out for interruption, as he apparently had more intel than she imagined he did. The small lump in his breast pocket wanted to get its two bits in as well.

"Alexandra Kettler. Her father was pseudo responsible for the Romania fiasco. I met her in a pool of the blood of her enemies in Romania. I found out she's an X trainee of all things. I think her talents would be better suited for our purpose. For this purpose." she tapped at the science reports. Roland smiled and shared his version." She works for Slate as well. I know her well. We've had many run ins and I always one up her. One of these days she is going to succeed in her attempts to kill me. Or kill herself. I like applying pressure to that one. She manipulates molecular bonds, but I assume you knew that already." He actually dug into his pocket, the action of his fingers doing the walking making more of a statement than teleportation.

Placing two flash drives on the desk in front of her, his fingers tapped them slightly. " I was surprised that you never asked for these. You did send me to Romania to pick them up, didn't you? Well, you wanted me to pick one up. The one with the surveillance footage. The other one is a gift. It contains various files concerning the funding of the camps and other things I wasn't particularly interested in. I got that one from Alexandra. She was unconscious, so I assumed it was alright."

He looked forward to hearing more about his service, but instead came the second half of the job. Roland fingered the photo of the silver man. " I remember watching this one fight Isabel at the mansion. I was doing a documentary film for Slate at the time. I don't see why he would be a problem. It is especially nice to actually steal their security head. Good form." He smiled and winked at her, omitting his plan to deliver an even larger blow to the X-kids. That would have to be a surprise, like the camera and the extra flash drive." I believe Alex will want these files back and she probably won't want the X's knowing her affiliation to the Kabal. So, sour or not, I think we have ample leverage to use." He had no opinion about the no names. That's why they were no names.