Almost immediately Jorge was led up to the lounge singer’s hotel room. He could see already that this place was infinitely more qualified to handle the young woman than her last hotel had been. At least this place was good enough to provide her with a couple of bodyguards and a front desk staff that seemed to truly have the singers get interest in mind. It was about time she got some decent help after absolutely everything that she has had to go through. He hoped and prayed that she would find her finally be able to live her life peacefully.

Apparently she was getting a much better form of help her. He nodded two both bodyguards as Xavia was summoned to the door. When she was, the detective could already see the difference. She looked good. Sweet, innocent, as if she were finally moving on with her life. He hoped she would.

It was only when the door opened and he spotted the young woman when he realized just how well she was actually doing. She seemed pleased, almost as if nothing had happened to her. He hoped that by exploring her past that she would not revert back to her own self. After all, she had apparently gone through some horrible things. It may be bad to make her talk about it, so he would not pus her, but hopefully she would indeed be able to.

>> “Detective…How may I help you tonight?”

He nodded. “Actually, I have some questions about your case,” he said gently, as to not scare her off with his tone. “It is completely up to you, I won’t make you talk about anything that you are not ready to talk about yet, but I believe it will be a good if you told me whatever you’re comfortable telling me about what happened to you.”

There was still little to no identification on the men who had attacked her. Only some basic information was found but as to who they were working for and why they did this to Xavia, Jorge still was coming up empty. He hoped that the singer would elaborate on her experiences, but he wouldn’t make her. He only hoped that maybe, just maybe that she would be willing to talk.

She regarded the detective with a quiet and somewhat tired expression, remaining serious. The singer listened to him with a guarded air, it was kind of hard to trust in people after all the things she had to deal with. “Ask away, detective…” she said flatly, though not rudely. “I just… want to heal.” She’d tuck a blonde-in-a-box strand behind her ear, and he would be able to catch a glimpse of faint scars on the back of her hand. That was definitely a good indication of her telling the truth about her life.

Xavia Worshaila had lived a nightmare. “Please, sit down…” she shook her head at herself, “I do not mean to be rude, I am just… Tired, yes?” She gestured toward the couch as she, herself, sat in an arm chair. She then did that one pose where she brought a hand up to her mouth while propping her elbow up on the arm of the chair, slouching in an uncharacteristic manner, an indication she was still jumpy.

He wouldn’t know about the phone calls. She would tell him though. It never seemed to end. She looked over his shoulder and fixed her gaze on the wall. “I am willing to open up now. Just… ask away.” Before he would have a chance to sit, though, if he had not at that point, the phone lit up again. She didn’t notice because she was staring at the wall. If he picked it up to move it, and it was still ringing, the screen indicated that the caller was unknown, the number wouldn’t even flash.

There was no answer but apparently the staff had been expecting that. The lounge singer rarely accepted calls and it always worked out that no matter what, they awaited calls from her…never vice versa. The detective gathered that the woman was probably still a little freaked out over everything that had happened. Not that he was surprised. After all, that was two times now, that he knew of, that the woman was attacked. The first was a mugging, but the second was an actual attack by men who forced their way into her room. And on top of that she managed to kill one of them.

Taking a life was never something easy to get over, especially if you’re not trained to handle the consequences. Jorge could only hope that Xavia would manage to hold herself together. There was little he could do to help other than hopefully get to the bottom of whatever this madness was that was haunting her.

Assigned a bellhop, the detective was led to the singer’s suite. Upon arrival he was greeted by a pair of guards, only one of which he recognized. They both looked tough and up to the challenge of keeping her safe. That was good at least. He was not exactly sure how safe Xavia felt these days but he hoped that she was at least doing a little bit better.

>> “Detective…Andrew….”

“Nice to see you again,” Jorge said with a small nod and smile in greeting. She still looked a little frazzled but at least she was not as completely terrified as she was when he first met her.

Once the bellhop was dismissed, the detective stepped in, as per her invitation, and sighed as he looked around her lavish room. This hotel room was definitely a lot better than the last one that he remembered her being in. She was indeed in the lap of comfort but the look on her face showed just how skittish she still was. She was still having issue. But he prayed now that she would be able to give him some useful information to help him investigate what happened to her.

>> “How may I help you tonight?”

He stood in the middle of the room, not wanting to claim any seat just in case she did not want him to stay long. He cleared his throat, pulled his notepad from his coat pocket and a pen. A comforting smile flashed across his features as he watched her face for reactions. That way he could at least tell if she were up for talking for not.

“I…was actually just wondering if you were up for talking tonight. About…what happened back at that hotel. I don’t want to push you, but…if you can finally shed some light as to why those men targeted you…on what you…’remembered’…it will greatly help my investigation,” he said gently. “But, of course, I won’t push you if you simply aren’t ready yet.”

Her gaze remained fixed on the wall for a few moments more, and then she looked directly at him with eyes that reflected a soul older than the young body that harbored it. A smile played at one corner of her lips, and she nibbled her bottom lip while he talked. The smile never reached the rest of her face: it was a cool one.

“I can tell you what happened at the hotel…” she said, “But what happened before the hotel is important too, yes? How about I start at the beginning? I hope you have a tape recorder handy…” Xavia stood then, the slip of a woman. The smell of rose was strong, but there were none in sight, not even potpourri. “Actually, I have one. You can just take the microcassette with you.” With that, she left him for a moment. When she returned, she had a recorder, and a package of unused tapes. “I generally use these for songwriting, but this is more important.” She sat down and canted her head. “Whether you’re ready or not, Detective, it is passed time to get this ball rolling.”

It took her a few seconds to get her resolve, she grabbed for a fresh tape and looked at him silently before she loaded the recorder and shut it, pressing record and setting it down. Then she began to paint a very vivid scene that might have seemed farfetched. “My name is Layla on stage, but I am actually Xavia Worshalai. I was born in Hungary, my family came here for American Dream, yes?” Her voice cracked a little and she regarded him with a level gaze. “I was the kind of girl every girl wanted to be. My papa and mama own a greenhouse and are doing quite well. I was the kind of girl who picked on people for their flaws, not knowing I was flawed myself.” Deep breath. “I suppose back then I was normal. Homecoming queen, you see? I had everything but sense…” Tired chuckle.

“The beginning to all of this happened eleven years ago, Detective. I was having a large party for my birthday, my sweet sixteen. Everyone came who I invited, it was lovely. But then there were gunshots. It still makes little sense to me, but I suppose they wanted me very badly. My friends were all killed in a massacre because they wanted me.” Deep breath. She stood and began to pace as she spoke. “I remember waking up with bright lights blaring in my face. I guess they kidnapped me, but I don’t remember. I mean… I was in shock when my boyfriend died in my arms, there is not much I remember except for maybe seeing men dressed in black.” She swiveled to look at him with an angry, but very honest look on her face. “I wake up in some lab, strapped down like animal.” Her accent even deepened with her anger. “I couldn’t speak though. I had tube in my throat. But an old man was standing over me, laughing and saying he knew I was ready, he knew that I had what he needed.” A visible shiver rode through her small form.

“I don’t remember what else happened because he put something into the IV that was in my arm. It was green liquid… I felt warm and then everything went black. When I was aware again, I was walking down the highway toward my home… I don’t know how long I was gone. I had no memory between watching my boyfriend die, the man in lab, and getting home. It was all so strange… And then I notice things. Little things… Things about me I kept secret from my family. Oh, it scared me. I discovered I was a ‘freak,’ you see. I mean, I don’t think I am now, but teenagers… you know?” She gave a bitter laugh and plopped down in her chair. “I thought they did it to me, but now I know it was me all along.” That cloying scent of roses started to smell like decaying foliage then. “I could touch a dead plant and make it live. I could make grass greener. I could grow rare plants in a climate that wasn’t meant to grow those plants. Think of it, Detective… Plants that might be extinct, what if I could bring those back to life? Do you know how dangerous that could be? I didn’t think of it that way at the time, I was young and foolish.”

Without forethought, she gave him a demonstration, raising her palm and concentrating. It started with a sprout, and then little green tendrils curled around her hand. “I could do something scary and amazing and beautiful at the same time…” Morning Glory began to climb up her arm and she buried her face lovingly into a blossom, then continued with her story. “In any event, I don’t want to give a full life story. Everything I want to say is important, I think. I hope, anyway.” Another pause is given, she pulled her face away from the bloom and shook her arm, causing the vines to wither and drop to the floor. Xavia walked to the mini fridge and opened it, grabbing a couple bottles of water. She set one down in front of him and returned to her seat, opening the bottle and taking a swig with the sound of crunching plastic. After she put the cap back on, she continued. “I was left alone like that for years, but eventually wanted to go out and see the world again.” I was tired of being afraid, and by the time I was old enough to understand, I decided to hire someone to help me find answers. I thought he was a private investigator.”

“He wasn’t who I thought he was. Somehow I was kidnapped again when I went to meet with him at the park. He injected me with something, I think. I… I don’t know. I wake up in van, and there are thugs. I panic, and make accident happen, and then someone rescued me from the van. I thought I killed the thugs. There was a young man who help me and took me to a school, I think… There were many young people around, like… Children and teenagers… And some of them scared me because they were like me. I… Ran away.”

“I found out where I was soon enough. You don’t need me to tell you that I found myself in this city.” She shook her head. “New York. I pretty much had no place to go, and did not know that they were tracking me, still. I sleep wherever my head would find comfort… When it was warm, I sleep in park. When it was cold, I try to find shelter. I find abandoned house and slept there when I could. It is an old house and I can show you if you need me to. It had a dusty old piano in the foyer. At any rate, they found me there, so I run. Some people stopped the thugs that chased me, and I ran away and hid in the park… I stay there for a while because it was warm enough.” Another pause for a drink is given.

“That is where I met Jupiter.” That was most assuredly a sore subject. The look that crossed her face was of agony, the kind one gets when someone they loved died. “I take him to my place… I knew it was dangerous, but I was building a life there. The thugs came back and almost kill me that time, but he killed them instead. At any rate, he took me to a place where there were others like us. I was growing to care for him by then, afraid for him. There I was, and I was being hunted. I couldn’t bear the thought of him being hurt because of me. So I tie him up with vines…” She kind of laughed a sad laugh, “And then I ran again. I left everything he gave me and ran like coward.”

“They did not find me again after that. I joined this mission that would take me to Romania. I will not go into detail there because it is not important or relevant to what you need to know. It is another story altogether and a very vivid picture, that. Just know that I woke up one day with no memory at all. I come back here and go on with my life thinking I was someone else. Something told me that this was the place I needed to be, here. I saw glimpses of my red man in my dreams every now and then. Saw faces of those who I knew, but they were all blurred… I couldn’t remember and it drove me mad. I didn’t even know who I was before all of that. Xavia Warshalai ceased to exist, Detective.” She leaned her elbows on her knees and folded her hands around the bottle. “I was Layla from the moment I set foot in New York again.”

“It started out peaceful. I was left alone for the most part because I was nobody. I was just another face of just another girl who had just another talent/ I did not seek to become popular when I took the job at the hotel. I just wanted to survive, no? I also needed money to try and figure out who I was and where I came from, and… I honestly just wanted that alone. But my boss, the man who was killed, said he saw something in me. I mean, he didn’t know about what I am, but he saw me as a star and told me so. I started to sing in the lobby and in the lounge, and he booked me at clubs so I would attract more and more customer.” She sighed. “I was supposed to appear at a charity function a few months after he hired me. I decided not to use car because the hotel where the gala was at, was only a few blocks. I get dressed and headed out, and was getting some air. I would not have spent long outside because it was cool, but not freezing.”

“I didn’t know that I was being followed. I… Didn’t see them coming, they were on me out of nowhere and they were attacking me. You showed up dressed as Santa, and a few others showed up. There was a woman there, she has really blue eyes. I remember them, and at the time, she was so familiar but I didn’t know who she was. I know her now, she was at the school to talk to me, she was on plane to Romania, and then she was there to help rescue me. I got into car, and it seemed like… I knew they weren’t one of us, you know? Not… Special… They were normal. I remember that much. But then one of them got to me using some kind of force… He was staring at me and my head started to hurt… And I know that power because someone else has that power, but he was not that same man from the school.” She raked her fingers through her hair. “Man with same power, his name is Garret, I think. But this man who used the same kind of power was not him, was someone else altogether. It stopped after a bit though. He was taken away.”

“So finally, I shut myself in hotel room and only came out to work. I was afraid of being hurt again. I didn’t know why I was so afraid, I still didn’t remember my life before I was Layla. I wanted nothing more than to be left alone, to be a recluse. I did not answer my phone, and I did not answer my door. My boss hired a bodyguard for me and I wanted to be alone one night. The night that they found where I was staying…” Thick swallow. “So I took a walk. I walked to the place where I had been attacked. I wanted to try and remember, but I didn’t stay for very long because I felt so uneasy. I got it in my head that I needed to leave. I had to run. I am good at that, if you cannot tell by now. I ran to my room and started throwing clothes into my suitcase. I heard a pop, then, and turned around. My boss was coming in with the bad men.” She was starting to get agitated, but did what she could to remain calm, wringing her hands. The click of the tape is heard as the first half hour of her story came to a halt, and she fumbled with the recorder. “I know this story is long, I am sorry if I take up too much time, but you have to know all of it…” She flipped the tape and pressed the button again, clearing her throat.

“He said we had contract and asked where I was going, and then the man with the gun told me it was good I packed because I was to go on a trip. I didn’t know who the men were, I was frightened.” She swallowed again, “My boss must have found out that someone was looking for me… The man with the gun said his fate was in my hands, he should be kissing my ass and saying sorry for naming me. He named my name for a reward. He always was a greedy little toad. I was being dragged away by the time they took care of him. And then I was fighting with the man who was dragging me while the other man was running down fire escape.” She shook her head. “He hit me and… I saw red. I wouldn’t let him kill me. Something snapped and everything that happened before came back all of a sudden. I remembered feeling like a victim and having no power over my own fate…” Xavia’s voice rose and she slammed her hand down on the table, “So I hit him back… I.. I fought with everything I had. We fell and scuffled for his gun and it was between us, and then…. Then he was dead. The gun went off. He was on top of me and he went limp and his blood was on my hands. I killed him. I didn’t mean to, but I killed him. And..” her voice lowered… “And… For a moment I felt a weight lift from me, like… I just saved myself, I didn’t get help to save myself, I did it on my own for the first time… And… It was like something I had never felt before, do you know how that is? It is a liberating feeling…. And then I knew fear again, because I killed him. I had never before shot a man. So I screamed. And then you came along.”

It was not the end though, she did not reach over to press stop, but a prolonged and agitated silence followed with some heavy breathing. She wasn’t crying, her eyes were shining, and she was shaking with her anger for what had happened to her. Her hand visibly shook as she grabbed for the cap on her water bottle, opening it and taking a long guzzle to help calm her nerves. She needed a stiff drink after this, she thought. When she was calm, she began to speak again. “After you left, Detective… I don’t think it stopped. I don’t think it is over…” Her gaze was tired and her shoulders were slumped a little by that point. “I… keep getting phone calls. Empty phone calls… I buy new phone and still… they come… I don’t understand it… I pick up the phone and every time I pick it up, all I hear is static. Just… Static… I don’t want to pick up the phone anymore because I know they are calling me.” And as if on cue, the phone lit up again. It had probably done that at least twice while she was talking. She saw the light in her peripheral vision and shook her head, gesturing toward it. “By all means…”

Once the detective saw the tape recorder being brought out, he knew immediately that his notepad and pen were not going to be enough. How much could this young woman really have to say? What gathered up the sums of her experiences? It could not be that much, could it? She was so young. But the detective knew that feeling all too well. He had his own traumatic experiences growing up. That seemed to be a common theme these days. Kids grew up too fast all because the world had decided to take on a darker tinge of itself. It seemed that everyone had to suffer if they ever wanted the right to say that they “lived”.

But the story that followed was both epic and tragic. And there was little Jorge could do but sit silently and listen.

Though it was recited into the tape recorder, Jorge still took a note every now and then. But the whole time that Xavia talked, the detective could only feel a great welling of sympathy, though his face showed none of it. He could not let emotions cloud his judgment concerning what had happened to her throughout her life. From what he could gather of the facts…there was someone still out there looking for her. It was fairly possible that this same person, or organization, was that one that attempted to claim her several times throughout her life, who personally sought to make her world a living hell that she could not trust. And through it all…she survived.

She lived, she made friends, she made homes wherever she could find them, even traveled, and yet every time she was harassed in some way, shape or form. Whether it was all a coincidence, he doubted it. But there was little evidence she could give him to prove otherwise. No common names, no practices, just…drugging and experimenting.

It was odd to say the least. Her abilities were impressive. But the detective knew that there were stronger mutants out there with abilities that were far more terrifying than simply being walking Miracle-Grow. He understood that if in the wrong hands her abilities could be dangerous but…why? Surely she wasn’t the only plant manipulator in the world?

But as he sat there, listening to the young lady give all the facts she could give, he jotted down special notes and possible leads to follow. She was still clearly shaken up by all of it and as much as he wanted to help her, there was little he could do to make her feel better. At least not until he puts a name to the faces of those who are seeking her out.

>> “After you left, Detective… I don’t think it stopped. I don’t think it is over…I… keep getting phone calls. Empty phone calls… I buy new phone and still… they come… I don’t understand it… I pick up the phone and every time I pick it up, all I hear is static. Just… Static… I don’t want to pick up the phone anymore because I know they are calling me.”

He saw the flashing of a light, the glow of a screen and as he turned to follow Xavia’s gaze, he spied the cellphone that she had cast aside. Standing up he slowly walked up to it, plucked it up between his fingers and eyes the screen closely. It said that the caller was “Restricted”. Eyebrow arched, he glanced to Xavia, as if waiting for her approval…

>> “By all means…”

Hitting the “Answer” button, Jorge held the phone to his ear.

“This is the NYPD. Hello? Who is this?” he announced in his gruff and grizzly voice. But there was only static as his response. A glance to Xavia and he knew that every word she had said was the truth. They just now needed to prove it. He ended the call and turned back to Xavia. “Miss, do you mind if I take this in?” he asked, referring to the phone in his hand. “Maybe someone in the tech department can trace that call back.”

“Take it. I don’t talk to many people anyways. I have the hotel taking calls for me quite graciously.” She wandered from the chair to the fireplace, grabbing the other cell and looking down at it. “For that matter, you may have this one too.” She turned and looked at him, but didn’t immediately bring the phone to him. A grim expression crossed her features. “I have to wonder… What is it about me that they find so important that they kill for me? So many lives… I am tired, Detective.”

When she said she was tired, she wasn’t asking him to leave. No, she was the type of person who was blunt, if a bit nervous. She would ask him to leave. But she did not. “I know there must be a thousand questions running through your mind by now, too. If I were you I would wonder too. Any sane and rational person would find my story to be farfetched, but what reason would anyone lie about watching people die?”

Xavia snorted and moved over to the coffee table, gently setting the sleek, and more expensive looking phone next to the recorder. She then crossed her arms over her chest and gave a weary sigh. “Whoever it is seems to think that I am something worth killing for. But why? Why take a young girl from her home and take away the best years of her life? Why that day? I don’t understand what it is they are looking for in me, but they can’t have me. I am human being, damn it. I am not some experiment!”

She began to pace again, wracking her brain for possible answers, tapping her finger on her upper arm and sighing little sighs of frustration every now and then. What could she do? She was tired of running, tired of being chased, tired of people dying in her wake without her doing the killing, save for one man. Turning on heel, she gave pause and thought. Really thought. She was silent and her gaze was rooted on the old phone.

Her face scrunched up in concentration as she tried to remember something, anything that could be a clue. Sweat popped up on her brow as images hit her, mostly blurred and pixilated like. They flitted through her mind like the blipping of a TV screen, this is how her flashbacks were. Her pupils dilated, a sure sign she was in flashback land and not the here and now.

Jorge paused as he watched Xavia begin to pace, move off to retrieve another phone for him, and set it gently down next to the tape recorder. She looked lost, confused, tired, and angry all at the same time. He could not blame her. If what she was saying was true, about her past, about everything that she experienced, then yeah, she had every right to be tired. But, even the detective had to admit that everything she said was a little farfetched: constant kidnappings, an enemy that always knew where she was, people dying left and right simply for being associated with her? It was…odd! And…just plain out of place.

But…a look into her eyes, the real terror she seemed to possess and Jorge knew that this was no joke to her. This was not a cry for attention, nor was it the ravings of a psychotic mind. It was a look of experience, weariness, and fear.

This was no joke for her. She was really experiencing all this. At least he hoped that was the case and she was just not simply a really good actress playing for his sympathies.

“No…you’re not an experiment. And you have every right to live a happy and normal life,” Jorge mused as he looked down at the two phones. Part of him wanted to leave, to give the young lady her privacy. But another side of him wanted to stick around, in case she remembered something else…or just needed to talk. “Xavia,” he said as he silently stood. “I give you my word, I’ll do everything I can to help you. I’m only sorry that you’ve been through so much yourself.”

He turned back to the tape recorder and the phones. Both the calling devices had remained silent and neither of them seemed to be offering up anymore secrets. He doubted that his voice alone scared off whoever was after the young lady and stalking her phone. They would call back. Hopefully while these phones were in the custody of tech services.

But as he turned back to Xavia, really wanting now to get these phones back to the precinct, he paused when he saw the expression on her face. She seemed rather deep in thought now. Tilting his head slightly he crept up to her and waved his hand briefly.

“Miss? Are you alright?” he asked with concern.

“I suppose I have taken up enough of your time…” Her voice was flat, as if she knew he had small doubts. But no, she didn’t call him on it. She heaved a soft sigh, sinking to her knees next to the coffee table. She didn’t look at him now, she wasn’t about to fall apart. Not right now. The silence grew stale very quickly, but she remained thusly as she retrieved the microcassette for him. It was a good minute before she spoke again… “I am just trying to make sense of things, you know?” When she had the tape, she stood and offered it to him.

“Call the hotel if you find anything… Please.” And then she grabbed the pad of paper she always had handy for the same reason she had the tape recorder handy, and quickly jotted down a few numbers and addresses. “I am giving you my parents’ number and address because perhaps they have more information. I don’t talk to them because I don’t know how deep into my life those people are. I don’t want to hear that they are dead because I called them, you know?” She sighed. “They never liked to bring it up with me, either. I think they were afraid I was like glass.”

She tore the page out and handed it to him, “If anybody knows information, it’s them. I would have contacted them myself if I could risk it… I also gave you the number for my job and the address. Is there anything else you need from me?” And finally, she looked up with a blank expression. Lord knows she wasn’t going to get her hopes up that he would find answers for her. Whether he believed her or not at this point wasn’t the issue. The bad guy was.

There were lots of things that she couldn’t piece together. Why her? What was so special about her?

She looked so tired…and yet so tired of feeling tired. Jorge wished that there was more that he could do to help her but the story she told him, it was going to be a little hard to find leads. First of all, besides the fact that it sounded completely out there, if what she said was right, then these people knew how to hide themselves. After all, if they had been able to keep their location hidden from so long, then they would surely know how to hide from a simply law enforcement agency. But…that did not mean that he was not going to try.

One look at Xavia…and that was all it took. He saw a young woman at the end of her rope, a woman who needed all the help that she could get. He was not guaranteeing that he would find anything…but he could promise that he would do absolutely everything within his power.

She continued on to explain how she could be reached. It was obvious that now was the time for him to leave. As much as he did not want to leave the young lady alone, he knew that he could do far more good if he were to actually be out there doing his job then stick around here in some futile attempt to comfort her. She had bodyguards. They would do their jobs and he would do his. That was the way that things had to be.

He only hoped that there was something, anything he could find that would help out.

Before long, she had torn a sheet from her notepad and handed it out to him. It was scrawled with several phone numbers and addresses. Though that may seem just slightly paranoid, he could easily understand why she was doing it. It was easier for him to track her, should he need to.

He nodded thankfully as he took the sheet of numbers and carefully folded it and set it inside of his own notepad before replacing it inside of his pocket.

>> “If anybody knows information, it’s them. I would have contacted them myself if I could risk it… I also gave you the number for my job and the address. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“Thank you for your time,” he said gently before he shook his head. “No, I believe that’s about all that I need.”

He once more reclaimed both the cell phones and the mini cassette from the recorder and slipped them both into his coat pockets. He sighed as he stood there, looked around her lavish room. He was more than certain that she did not notice a single inch of its opulence. Shame. He hoped her nightmare would end soon and that he could play some part in stopping it.

“Ms. Worshalai,” he muttered as he was turning to go. “I know this may sound trite by now, but I will do everything I can to help you.” He reached into his coat again and pulled a small contact card that contained both the number of his office at the MRC and his cell phone number. Leaning down he placed it gently on the coffee table and gave her a small, sympathetic look. “Please, contact me if you need any help whatsoever.”

With that, the detective turned away and headed for the doors again. He did not know if he would be walking back through these particular ones to see Xavia again. He hoped so. By god…he hoped so…