Well, that had been an interesting experience. Sitting against the bed, facing the bathroom door, Oz has one leg drawn to his chest, the other stretching out in front of him. Shirtless and barefoot, the Irishman taps one finger on the cellphone beside him, the other hands flipping a quarter through his fingers, elbow resting on his knee. Thoughtful expression as he stares at the bathroom door, head cocked slightly to the side to better hear what he can of the one sided conversation from inside.

The door opens, letting one redheaded empath into the room. Oversized green t-shirt claiming everyone's after her lucky charms hanging almost to her knees. One glance at Oz, face that had finally lost some of the color, was flushing all over again. "Eavesdroppin', sugar?" Her cell set on the top of the dresser. "Sunset says she's not really mad at ya, if ya wanted ta know."

Not being able to stop a grin from spreading across his lips, Oz gives a small shrug. "Thin walls. Thin doors. Hard ta not here, really."

Sabrielle smirks. "Isn't that just handy? Hear anythin' interestin', did ya?" Oh, she was gonna strangle him. Dropping to sit near him,t-shirt tugged over her bent knees like a little kid.

One hand still flipping the quarter, his hand on the cell phone comes up to thoughtfully tap his lips, obviously trying to find the highlight of the overheard responses. After a moment, the grin turns into a wicked smirk as he turns to face Sabrielle. "Lightin' storm." It's amazing how he can make two very simple words sound so very, very... dirty.

She turns scarlet, glaring at him a moment. "Sunset's words. Ah can't come up with any ta explain anythin'. Can ya do better, Ozzie?" Arching an eyebrow at him, torn between wanting to walk away from him, swat him, and kiss him, all at the same time.

It's perhaps not the best idea to challenge him to things such as this. But the offer was already extended, and Oz was never one to back down. Flashes of silver stilling as he holds the quarter still, letting it fall into his palm. Staring at Sabrielle with a curious and thoughtful look, he eventually nods. "Alrigh', then. How's this?" Not giving her much time to respond, the quarter drops to the floor as he cups her face in both hands, leaning forward to press hip lips to hers, giving a long and slow kiss. Eventually pulling back when breathing is required. "Close enough?"

She refuses to just back down and slink off when her pride is involved...which will probably get her killed someday. "How's .." Before she can even finish that question, before he's kissing her. A stifled sound in her throat, hands coming up to wrap around his forearms. Kissing him back, thinking of Sunset's question, not yet turning empathy off, instead using it to press that heat of the kiss back through into him. Tongue touching her bottom lip. "Close enough ta what, Oz? Ya didn't tell me how /ya/ feel. Jus' showed me again that ya like kissin'. " Smirking at him, hand moving to run a finger down his cheek. Pressing to kiss him again.

This kiss is a short one, Oz chuckling into it before his lips have moved closer to her ear. "Thought I'd see if I could beat that lightin' storm feelin'. Maybe get it up to a thunderstorm, right about." He murmurs, before pulling her lobe into his mouth, very lightly scraping his teeth along it, moving to her neck afterwards. Kissing and nipping his way down to her collarbone, pausing in a few places that he knows are sensitive to again lightly scrape his teeth against them, ending by barely biting where her shoulder and neck meet. Hands having moved, one down to wrap an arm around her waist, the other cradling the back of her neck.

"Oh, so you're subscribin' ta Sunset's lightnin' storm thinkin' now, are ya? " Words have murmured, half whispered. Hand sliding along his jaw, thumb along his cheekbone, stroking over the skin there. Passing thought to Sunset's questions, even as the shiver sliding through her makes her arms get goosebumps. "Ozzie..did Sunset or Angie evah really tell ya anythin' 'bout me?" She's got to make sure he knows.

"Can feel what other people feel." Oz answers her, gently pulling her closer, lips moving against her skin as he speaks. "See it too. Damn good cook. Few other things."

Sabrielle pushes one arm away, if only so she can face him while deciding to sit in his lap. "Few otha things? Yeah, but Ah mean tha empathy, sugah. Ah realized Ah nevah warned ya. It goes beyond jus' seein' stuff. When someone touches me, if Ah don't block it out Ah feel what they feel. Even sometimes get an idea of what they're thinkin', ya know? Jus' wanted ta make sure ya were okay with all that." Nuzzling her nose along his temple, one hand up to pet through his hair.

Hands running over her legs, barely pushing her shirt any higher, for now. Lips moving to meet hers for a long and heated moment. "Seem like I mind any?"

Another of those shivers, eyes opening after that kiss breaks off, to study his face. "Ah jus' didn't want ya gettin' mad later, or freakin' out of Ah lost control an' somethin' happened. Can't blame me for not wantin' ta scare ya, can ya?" Forehead pressing to his a moment, before she's kissing him again, down along the side of his neck.

Shivering himself now, Oz continues running one hand over a leg, fingers tracing design on the underside, the other coming up to thread slightly through her hair. "Many thinga ya can do ta me, love. Makin' me mad or scarin' me, or freakin' me out ain't none of 'em." He mutters, Irish accent a bit thicker than normal.

Sabrielle nips lightly, just where the pulse beats under the skin. "Oh, ya don't know me so well, ya think Ah can't make ya mad. Ah can be downright infuriatin', Ah'm told." Whispering against his skin in amusement, before a kiss to his shoulder. "Many things Ah can do to ya, huh?" Stealing a glance at him from under lashes. "Sounds like you're challegin' me, Ozzie." A light bite against his neck again, using the contact of his skin on hers, to flood his system with the fire and pleasure she got from him touching her.

Making a sound low in his throat, Oz chuckles. "Redhead. 'Course ya are." Breaking off whatever else he was going to say with a growl that soons turn into a moan, deep from his chest. Hand clenching slightly around her thigh. "Minx."

Kissing up the side of his throat, nibbling at his earlobe. "Ya tryin' ta say ya don't like it when Ah take ya up on your challenges, Ozzie? Still so sure Ah can't freak ya out, even a little?" A laugh, finger tracing over his chest, before she's pressing her lips to his again, fierce this time, opening that connection more, letting the rush, the wanting and the enjoyment hit him full force without warning.

Letting out another growl that's lower and seeming to come from more primal urges than before, Oz kisses her back with a bruising force. Somehow managing to flip them over, keeping his full weight off of her by propping himself up with an arm. Free hand pushing her shirt up. "Takin' up a challange and teasin' me are two dif'rent things."

Sabrielle feels her eyes widen as she's looking up at him, rather than just over at him. A shudder under his hand, back arching. "Oh sugah, teasin? Nevah." A nibble to his lower lip, barely brushing fingers along his skin. "Teasin' would be a whole otha tactic." That flood of feeling cut off suddenly, before it's just a trickle over his skin, almost as if he'd walked into a sauna from the cold.

Sabrielle feels her eyes widen as she's looking up at him, rather than just over at him. A shudder under his hand, back arching. "Oh sugah, teasin? Nevah." A nibble to his lower lip, barely brushing fingers along his skin. "Teasin' would be a whole otha tactic." That flood of feeling cut off suddenly, before it's just a trickle over his skin, almost as if he'd walked into a sauna from the cold.

Letting out a gasp, breathing heavily, Oz lets his forehead rest against her shoulder, a shudder going through him. "If ya had done this before, I'd be sayin' this is what it is 'bout ya that drives me mental. Still don't know, though."

She can't help a laugh, feeling a little light headed. "Ah've nevah done it. Was scared ta, but ya nevah seem scared of anythin'. Must be yer influence, huh?" Hand rubbing the back of his neck, feeling the heat of his skin against her palm. "Ah dunno what it is, eitha. Ah'm used ta not bein' touched, ta bein' so damned careful..but Ah don't wanna be so careful. Dunno what it is that makes me wanna touch ya so much."

"Mah good looks and natural charisma." Oz automatically answers, nuzzling against her neck. "Accent prob'ly helps too."

Sabrielle giggles, squirming as his nuzzling tickles. "Well, maybe for most girls. Looks an' charm aren't tha things Ah see, though. Charm is sorta useless on a girl like me, dontcha think, Oz? The accent.. well, yeah, maybe." Conceding that with another laugh, sliding arms around him, fingers stroking along his spine, slowly increasing the feel of heat flowing into him.

Shudder again running down his spine, the Irishman lets out a small moan, placing frantic kisses on her neck and shoulder, muttering between them. "Love, if ya keep this up, can't promise I won't hurt ya when things finally happen. Wouldn't mean ta - never would. But, don't know if I could control myself."

"What's wrong, Oz, 'fraid Ah might jus' make ya lose control? " Amused tone. "Ah'm not scared, sugah. Hurtin' me would take an awful lot, ya know, physically. But jus' think, Ah keep this up long enough, an' don't let ya touch me, ya might jus' lose control all by yerself." Snickering, waiting for a glare or snappy retort.

Oz shakes his head, not offering either. "Don't know what I can do, do ya?" He asks, pushing himself off of her to grab for the telephone on a nearby nightstand. "What my powers are?"

Sabrielle shrugs. "Ah think Angie told me ya got super strength or somethin' like that, but otha than that, no. Why, sugah?" A glance at the phone. Flushing a rather deep red. "Ah thought ya meant control.. ya know. Not like mutation stuff"

Shaking his head again, Oz picks up the cordless telephone. With a simple movement of his fingers, it cracks and crumbles to bits in his hand, more like he was squeezing something like a piece of paper in his hand instead of a telephone. "Like I said. Dun wanna hurt ya."

Sabrielle stares for a moment, watching the phone. "Ah don't think ya'd break me, Oz. Ah'm sturdier than a bit of plastic and wires. Ah jus' look breakable, is all. " She knows she does, she's always been small. Sitting up, to edge over to him, hand on his side. "Ah'm pretty sure if it hurt, ya'd know before ya could hurt me too bad, after all. " Kissing at his shoulder, before a nip.

Letting what's left of the phone drop to the floor, Oz turns towards her, hands again moving to cup her face, kissing her softly. "Always gotta keep it in check." He murmurs, kissing her again. "Don't wanna hurt you. Never purposely would." Another kiss, this one longer. "Never."

"Ozzie, not gonna break me. Don't gotta be scared. Ya hurt me, you'll know. Ah can tell ya faster than Ah could even speak, don't ya get that?" Hand rubbing along his cheek, fingers brushing against his temple. "Ah know, sugar. Ah know ya wouldn't, bettah than ya can evah express it in words. Upside of tha otha stuff, Ah guess. Gotta have some pros for tha cons of a mutation, right?" Before she's indulging in those kisses wholeheartedly, sharing the sweetness as well as the more lusty feelings.

Hands running through her hair, Oz makes a sound low in his throat, before his arms wrap around the redhead. It's nearly nothing for him to pick her up, moving them to the bed, lips soon moving against hers in the same bruising fierceness they were earlier.

She's being a little more careful, keeping it from being a full on flood into his system. A squeak as he picks her up, snuggling closer to him when she can. Break of lips from his. "Ah could hurt ya too, Ozzie. Ah don't think eitha of us would evah do it on purpose. Don't fret ovah it, all right?" fingers trailing down his chest, breath warm against his skin. "Oz, Ah dunno what it is that makes me wanna touch ya so much, jus' makes me /want/. But is it wrong Ah jus' don't care, that Ah wanna enjoy it?"

Taking a moment to think on that, Oz eventually just shrugs. "If it wrong... not sure I wanna be right."

Half of a laugh, smiling at him. "Don't think Ah wanna be, either. But what happens when we go back?" Stealing another kiss, before she's more interested in kissing the side of his neck and his chest.

Letting out a sound that could easily be a purr, Oz tenses slightly at her last question. "...Let's focus on that when it happens." He answers after a moment, one hand caressing the back of her hand and neck.

Sabrielle pauses, lips pressed to his skin, easing away that tension easily enough. "Ozzie..Ah know ya probably think Ah'm all kinds of dumb an' naive an' stuff. Ah can't blame ya, Ah probably seem it in a lot of ways. But ya can tell me anythin', jus' no lyin'. Okay?" glancing up. "Sunset asked me, ya know. What Ah thought this was. Ah told her tha truth, Ah dunno. Because it's not jus' me. " Burying her face against the side of his neck. "If it's jus' this, Ozzie, it's okay."

Arms wrapping around her to hold her close, Oz lets out a sigh, head leaning back against the bed. "I dunno. Don't want this to stop, whatever it is. Know it ain't just sex, but - And Bridget - I just... I don't know."

Arms wrap around him, hand rubbing at his back. No empathic tricks, just plain ol' human comforting. "Ah don't want it ta stop eitha, sugah. Ah ..it's why Ah couldn't tell sunset anything. If ya thought it was jus' sex, Ah'd know an' have known what ta say. An' Bridget an' Justin, ah know. It's not likely ta not be complicated. He's gonna dump me, so Ah mean... won't be all that complicated for me, even if it hurts."

Giving a sardonic chuckle, Oz nods. "Ayuh. Don't really see Bridget wanting to stay with me either. Might shoot me, but she win't gonna stay with me."

Turning her head, cheek resting against his chest, just snuggled up to him for a moment. It felt like it was all right to do, another new thing to her. "Justin wouldn't shoot me, but Ah'm sure he'll have some choice words." Quiet hush to her words, another kiss. "He's been tha only guy, ya know, well, ya make two, but ya get mah point. Ah jus' dunno what ta think."

"He ain't gonna kill me, is he?" Oz asks, somewhat jokingly. He sobers after a moment though. "Me and Bridget... We ain't got this far. She's the slow type, and I ain't the type to push."

She flushes hotly enough he'd feel it against his chest. "Doubt it. He keeps himself locked down, emotionally. Think that's part of what drew me ta him in tha first place, ironic huh? " Swallowing back her other thoughts about things with Justin, head coming up to look at him. "Justin an' Ah couldn't, until Ah learned ta turn mah empathy off. But it always seemed like Ah wanted more than he did. Dunno if that's normal or not. " Biting at her lip. "Ya think that's why we ended up like this?" Meaning because Bridget was cautious. "if someone had asked me hypothetically, Ah nevah woulda seen any of this happenin'. " Sunset would say it happened for a reason, though.

"Think it coulda helped a lot. Along with tha alcohol, and tha fact I was near convinced everything was seriously 'bout ta be like War of tha bloody Worlds." Oz murmurs.

"Ah think maybe thinkin' life as we knew it was over, led ta tha drinkin' an' some of tha urgency maybe. But Oz.." A hard swallow. "Once ya kissed me, Ah didn't want ya ta stop."

Looking down at her, Oz shifts, propping his head up on his hand. Peering at her curiously, his next question is a simple one. "Why?"

Sabrielle lays back a bit, looking up at him. "Isn't that tha question we can't seem ta answer? Ah mean sure, kissin' ya was fun an' all, but Ah coulda stopped. Jus' didn't wanna."

Giving a grin, Oz leans closer to her, forehead resting against hers. "Maybe it's one of those questions that don't have a logical answer."

Blue eyes give up trying to stay focusd on his face, stealing another kiss with eyes closed instead. "Maybe. Maybe this is some of Sunset's philosophies. Things happen because they're supposed ta. " Hand settling at his waist. "Ya can't figure it out eitha, can ya Oz. Can't figure out what it is, that makes me wanna keep touchin' ya, and ya ta keep lettin' me."

"Make it sound like I'm doin' ya a favor, love." He murmurs, teasing. "Not like I'm lettin' ya just 'cause ya want to. I ain't objectin' ya doin' anythin' ta me." Slipping a hand under her shirt to lightly trace designs on her stomach.

Sabrielle laughs, head tipping back just enough to give him a grin. "Well, it wouldn't be lady like ta make it sound like ya wanna touch me, when ya don't actually say so. Sound a bit arrogant of me, wouldn't it?" Squirming a bit under his hand. "An' ya are, ya know. Ya aren't hidin' things, even when Ah touch ya. "

Smirking, Oz lays back down, arms wrapping around Sabrielle to pull her close, cheek leaning agianst the top of her head. "Love, even if there was anythin' ta hide from ya, wouldn't be any use it in. Ya can basically see if I am anyway, right?"

"There are ways ta keep it from me, even when Ah touch ya. Ah'm not strong enough ta go lookin' if someone's keepin' somethin' secret. Ah'm not that skilled. Ah don't have that much control ovah what Ah do." sadness to the admission, even as she snuggles in tight.

"Just takes practice. Took forever for me ta be able to touch anything without it breakin' or somethin' of tha sort." Oz answers, kissing the top of her head. "Considerin' I had ta even watch when I went ta touch myself, it was pretty damn bad. Tapped myself in tha temple once, and gave myself a bloody concussion."

"Well, at least there was that. Ah didn't have ta worry about hurtin' mahself with jus' me." Smiling, a kiss to his chest. "Ah can have it on or off now, but those are mah only choices. Controllin' it beyond that is still more than Ah can do." Whispering, arm sliding around his waist to squeeze him closer. "Oz? Do ya think Sunset's right, maybe this was s'posed ta happen?"

Brow furrowing, he's quiet for a moment, seriously thinking on that. "If it was, guess it all makes sense. Me findin' ya and bringin' ya along." He finally answers. "Can't say I woulda done it if it was any other person that I barely knew."

Sabrielle lifts her hand, thumb stroking along his cheekbone. "Gawd knows Ah wouldn't have gone with most anyone else Ah hardly know. Not unless like Sunset was there with them, or somethin'. " Shifting to kiss him lightly. "An' woulda turned aroun' an' marched off ta find anotha room, seein' only one bed, probably. It hadn't really concerned me, seein' it, an' that's weird, because well..asleep Ah can't keep mah empathy off, so Ah would generally think of that."

Turning his head to kiss her palm, Oz shrugs lightly. "Well, if it was supposed to happen, it was supposed to happen. We may not really know why, yet, but I'm sure it'll eventually be figured out." He murmurs, arms tightening around her slightly as he shifts, throwing a leg over hers. "Don't think there's much used tryin' ta figure it out right now, though. Too tired for it, really."

There's a smile at that kiss to her palm, fingers wriggling before her fingers slip down his cheek and away. "Maybe, if we're supposed ta figure it out." A snicker then, kissing his shoulder. "Ya sayin' Ah'm borin' ya ta sleep, Oz, or have Ah jus' tired ya out?"

"Long day, love. Was drug around a mall, made ta carry everythin'." He teases lightly. "Then we get back, ya take a bath without invitin' me ta join ya, I get chewed out by Big Sis while waitin' for ya ta get out. Then when ya do, ya get me all riled up with those powers of yers, and we end up just talkin' and cuddlin'." Oz chuckles, kissing her neck to show there's no hard feelings.

A sound. "Ah did not make ya carry everythin'! Yer fibbin'! " Face going scarlet in a rush. "A girl needs some time alone, especially if she's wantin' ta feel her prettiest around ya, Ozzie. Ah couldn't help yer sister, Ah'm sorry. " A nip to his collarbone. "Ah could have finished what Ah started, but ya pulled away from me, afraid of hurtin' me, remember?" Arching a brow.

"That's what ya get for getting me too worked up, love." Oz chuckles, tapping one of her red cheeks. "Love when ya turn that color. Definitely gotta remember what it is I say ta make ya do that for future reference."

Sabrielle turns her head, nipping at his fingers he'd been tapping her with. "Watch it, buddy, or Ah'll get devious an' make ya lose control in yer jeans." Oh, dire threat!

"That a threat or a promise?" He remarks, scarred eyebrow raising, tongue curling behind his teeth.

"Both?" Grinning before she's kissing him, hands pressed against his bare skin, sending that flood of heat over his skin.

Letting out a growl, Oz rolls them over, again ending up on top. Nipping at Sabrielle's bottom lip, hands moving to pull her shirt up. "If I were you love, wouldn't give what ya can't take." He warns, voice husky, before kissing her roughly.

Sabrielle gives a low laugh,grinning and letting fingers stroke over his skin, teasing more. "Who says Ah can't take, Ozzie?" Arching a brow, a whimper into that kiss, arms around his neck.

---

Flashes of silver probably stand out more than Oz does at the moment. After all, his 'typre' aren't really a big surprise in the Kitchen. Quarter twirling between the fingers of his right hand, the Irishman is currenlty perched on the steps on his apartment building, back pressed against the brick. Judging from his facial expression and body language, he is not a happy Irishman.

A pebble shoots across the atreet of the apartment building, bounce-rolling to a stop somewhere a few feet in front of Oz. Following it is Zachery plus his latest host. Seventeen years of age, walking with his hands stuck in the pockets of his thick coat and his eyes searching for the pebble that just escaped. Ah, there it is! As he goes to catch up with it, his gaze flits past Oz. "... Well, don't /you/ look like a drowned cat." The bosysnatcher starts, not bothering to mask his accent, smirking and slowing down to stare at Oz. "Not that that's any different than the usual, but it's worth saying either way."

Looking up at Zach with a glare, Oz not having to think about who this little punk could be, the quarter stills. "Just beggin' to get that eye popped, huh?"

Zachery might /look/ like a little punk, but-- well. Okay, he does kind of /act/ the part, as well. "Oh, you and I both know you wouldn't want to get your hands dirty. Literally." He turns his attention to the pebble to give it another kick, sending it flying further with a few -tks-.

Squeezing the quarter between two fingers, Oz gives a grin that is far from amused or comforting. "Who sis anythin' 'bout me touchin' ya?" He spits back, hopping up from his perch. "Could put this coin through yer head before ya moved."

Zachery briefly shrinks back from Oz, only now realizing a seventeen year old is probably not to most intimidating of hosts to go up against someone like Oz. But he stands 'tall' again soon enough, cracking a strangely happy grin for how hopeless the situation might seem. "Oh really, now? Kill a child? Tough man, you are."

Quarter dropping into his palm, fingers curling around it, Oz gives a growl. "Pity that. The only thing savin' ya is the fact that I ain't worthless enough ta kill a kid. Guess that's tha difference 'tween you and me, huh? If I'm gonna kill someone, gonna be for a damned good reason... 'Cause they deserve it." He answers. "Not a bloody sociopath like ya. 'Magine ya don't give a damn who ya kill long as ya get yer jollies, huh?"
Zachery's hand slip back in his pockets, the left one around something inside of them. His grin grows slightly wider, and he takes a calm step closer to Oz, head tilting upward (more than it already has to be to look directly at Oz, anyway). "Oh, I have my reasons. Though I can't deny the 'jollies' are a nice bonus. And don't act like you can't relate, either. Might not know you well, but I know you well enough."

"Ya don't know me at all, ya bloody gobshite." Oz snaps in return. "Know 'nough 'bout ya from Big Sis, though. How ya kill every host ya use, and how ya run that little underground group or whatever. Tell me somethin'... Did ya have to show them your big pile of bodies to scare them into givin' ya that poisition, or did ya have ta kill a few of 'em yerself?"

"I set the Tunnels up to /help/ people, Oz." Zachery responds, in a most patronizing tone. "And I don't nearly kill all of my hosts. Only the ones I deem interesting enough to pick apart. Bit..." He beams happily as though already looking forward to doing the same thing with /this/ host, and takes another step toward Oz, "by bit."

"Because yer /such/ a helpful person." Oz snarks, smirking as Zachery gets closer. Reaching out to grab the teenage bodied body snatcher by the shirt collar, he raises the quarter, now crushed into a cylindrical shape, holding one point over 'Zachery's' eye. "I've had a really bad day. Tell me why I shouldn't."

Erk! Zachery flinches, amusement having left his expression. Without thinking, he draws his left hand out of his pocket to poke the end of a scalpel against Oz's side. In a breath of utter loathing, he mutters, "Ruptured appendix. Good enough reason, I'd say." Poking it a /smidge/ harder, he adds, "Just take the thing off of the kid's eye. I'll /go/, yeah?"

Hand twitching slightly at the feel of the scalpel against his flesh, blood already starting to run, Oz snarls. Quarter again curling in between his fingers, it's all he can do to not at least give Zachery a good concussion, letting go of his shirt as well. Son of a bitch.

Watching Oz twitch, Zachery briefly glances down to notice the blood. "Oh, hell. I'd just cleaned this one." Now look what you did. He draws back, but keeps the small but sharp blade in place. Slowly but surely, a grin returns to his features. A sadistic sort of grin, to match the tone of voice as he continues. "See, I knew you'd do the right thing, in the end. Say no to violence. Me, on the other hand..." The sentence goes unfinished, and the scalpel nearly all the way into Oz's side. Whoops?

Stiffening, letting out a roar at the initial pain, Oz stumbles back from Zachery, quickly falling to his knees. Shaky hand coming up to grip what's left visible of the scalpel, teeth grinding to keep from making any other pained noises, glassy and rapidly unfocused eyes manage a glare at Zachery. "Ya really think I'm the worst of ya problems? Think ya got rid of it?" He slurs. "'Magine what Big Sis is gonna do ta ya when she finds out 'bout this." Jaw clenching again as he pulls the scalpel out, it's still not enough to stop another pained scream, blood now pouring from the wound in torrents, the Irishman falling to his hands and knees, blood falling to the concrete beneath him. There's a burning in his stomach and side - he can't tell if this is normal or not... He can't tell much of... Slumping over to the concrete, unconcious, medical tool falling from his hand, skittering across the ground.

Zachery looks, for a moment, a bit baffled that his little plan worked. But the more Oz talks, the more crazy returns to Zach's borrowed face. A few sickly chuckles escape him after Oz pulls the scalpel out, and it's clear from the shaking of his shoulders that he's trying not to simply laugh. "Oh, poor, helpless little lamb. Running to your sister." /Hee/. Wandering over to the now unconscious Oz, he crouches down to pick up the scalpel. "Sweet dreams, Oz. Sleep tight." After using a bit of his shirt to wipe blood off of the scalpel, he sticks it back in his pocket. "Very tight." Wandering off, he can't possibly help but chuckle again, kicking a pebble out in front of him. Back to the Tunnels.

---

It's nighttime in Hell's Kitchen, which means it's mostly deserted anywhere there's light. The entrance to the West 46th Apartment Building is well lit enough, though the flickering light bulbs do nothing to invade the surrounding darkness. However, if anyone bothered to look or notice or care, there would be a pool of blood slowly leaking into the lit area, and growing bigger.

She's on an errand, though Justin's not answering the phone. She'll slip a letter under his door, telling him she needs to talk. She has to get through to him somehow. Oddly, it's not the blood she picks up on, but the source, having felt enough injured people. Then she sees the blood with a start. " 'lo? Someone there? Ya need help?"

If she recognizes an injured person, this injured person should feel very familiar indeed. However, there's no answer to her question, Oz a bit too unconscious to really answer at all.

Sabrielle is hesitant, following the blood trail, only to have /really rude/ reality crash in on a less than chipper mood. "Ozzie!" His name a scream as she's dropping to her knees next to him, hand along his cheek. Other hand already fumbling to flip her phone open, so she can call paramedics. "Sugar, talk ta me."

If she's hoping for him to verbally answer, it's a futile hope. T-shirt darkened and sticky where the blood has soaked into it, torn where the scalpel went in, the wound is an obvious one. However, that for now, is the least of his problems. Chest cavity and lower areas already starting to darken, bruise like, the signs of internal bleeding from a punctured spleen. Ouch.

"Oh sweet jesus, sugar. Let ya be for a few hours, an' this is what happens. " Ripping his t-shirt some more, to have something between her hand and his skin as she's putting pressure down to try and stop the bleeding. Forcing herself to stay calm, giving the address, location, and what she could tell of his injuries to the woman on the line that was sending the ambulence. Then the cell phone is pretty much forgotten, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "C'mon sugar. Tell me ya still hear me." whispering.

It's not really a spoken response, but Oz twitches slightly at the kiss, aura fluctuating slightly. If he could tell it was her in her sleep, a forced sleep shouldn't be any different. However, the fluctuation only stays for a moment, Oz relaxing again - if it can be called relaxing.

Even that little bit of change makes her sigh. Pressing harder now against that wound, other hand groping for the cell phone. Calling first Sunset's, likely leaving a message to explain the best she can. Damnit, she knew she should have asked him to stay when he dropped her off earlier. Another call, Julien, just in case, another message left. She didn't know what else to do.

Twitching away from the pain of stab wound being pressed against, Oz lets out a small grunt, breath hitching. It's really about as close as what he would say if he weren't in blackout land. Damn, woman, not so hard.

She flinches. "Ozzie.." quietly. "Ah dunno what else ta do, sugah. Jus'..damnit, Oz, Ah thought ya were tougher than that. Don't be such a damned wuss! Yer actin' like a Limey!" Fun part about the empath touching. You don't /have/ to be able to speak aloud.

There are several factors in which a stabbing victim's life depends on. One of which is how long til the person gets treated. Another is the location of the wound. And another is the size and shape of the wound. Although two of those factors have already been determined to be less than favorable, there is still that first factor. The time to treat it. And that factor depends on other factors. One of which is where the help is coming from. To that things are favorable to the pair as there is a paramedic substation located in the firehouse just a block down. By the time the ambulance even got to turn on it's siren, it had to be shut off for they were already there. Yay for convenient locations. Ruching out of the ambulance the driver heads over to the 'couple' while the other medic moves to the back of the ambulance to fetch the stretcher and kit.

Am not! Brow furrowing slightly, Oz twitches again, though not as much this time. Oh, look. Help. Yay.

The redhead, understandably, looks terrified, face pale in the sucky lighting of the building entrance way. Blue eyes locking on the paramedic that was approaching. That was fast, though hey, she's thrilled about that. Really. She'll buy the whole substation lunch, if everything comes out okay. "Ah put pressure on it, didn't know what else ta do." But she's not stopping that, not moving until she's told to.

The paramedic kneels next to Oz, pulling on some gloves retrieved from a side pouch before putting his hands on the wound, "Good job. Stick around. The police will be needing statements." The second medic rolls the stretcher up, pausing as he looks to Oz, "Oh FUCK! Mendel's not going to like this."

Bridget? There's a roll of subconcious emotions at the familiar last name. Worry, guilt, sadness, concern.

She blinks, shaking her head. "But Ah didn't see anythin'. Ah jus' found him here. Ah.. Ah can't stay here, not if he's goin'. " She doesn't want to leave him alone. "Ah called his sister, but no one answered yet. Ah jus' don't want him bein' alone." She hates hospitals, god she loathes them. But she wouldn't want to be alone in one, with no one she knew, either. " A start, glancing at Oz again when there's that roll of emotion. Not sure what to make of it.

"Didn't she skip shift?" The driver replies to Stretcher guy before looking to the redhead. "That's still a statement to make." He replies, looking back towards Oz, "Alright Delaney... Hang on there. Don't need her getting angry at us for you dying on our watch." "The past two actually," Stretcher guy replies, lowering the stretcher to allow for easier loading of the victim. "Then again she was just temping."

Confusion. What? No, she's been in Ohio. Shifts? Temping?

Sabrielle shakes her head, trying to disentangle her empathy from Oz for the moment, just enough to ask. "Mendel.. her name's Bridget?" She stops touching Oz, because she doesn't want to know more right now. "Where ya takin' him? Ah.. after tha cops. Don't want him wakin' up alone, if his sister can't be there."

One paramedic glances to Sabrielle before back to Oz as he and his partner start to place the bleeding man onto the stretcher. "Yeah. Emergency service's own trouble magnet. So, are you a friend of his or a good samaritan?" Another siren enters into the picture as a cop car pulls on up.

Body jerking slightly, brow furrowing, Oz makes a pained sound as he's moved. Moving apparently hurts.

Sabrielle shuts her eyes for a moment. Christ. The only thing more messed up was if Bridget had been the one to come to the call. Shaking her head. "His sister is one of mah best friends. " Hey, she's not going to say anything else to possibly give away personal business to co workers of the woman she's never met. Flinching at that sound from Oz, though she doesn't need to hear him to know. Crap.

"Family friend then," the paramedic surmises, all the while getting Oz strapped down, "Alright. As far as medical paper work goes, it'll be Delaney here who will have to fill it out when he wakes up. Or one of his family members or a significant other. We're taking him to the nearest hospital and we'll have to skip over some formalities due to the nature of the wound."

As soon as everything gets sorted at the apartment building, Oz is rushed to the nearest hospital, as the paramedics said. They weren't kidding about skipping over some of the formalities, either, what with the ruptured organ and internal bleeding and what not. The next few hours for Sabrielle and whoever else is waiting are probably slow. Oz going into surgery. Oz coming out of surgery, missing a spleen, and with a few new pints of blood in him. Oz being moved to the Recovery Unit, where he, for now, sleeps.

And waiting for him, lurks a nurse, armed with a clipboard full of paperwork.

The empath would have called anyone she could have, hoping to find Sunset, or even get ahold of Angie. Someone. She doesn't like this being the only one who knows Oz is hurt and where he is. On top of her own hospital phobia, this is no good, making her pace and praying to the god she sometime doubts exists that he'll wake up soon.

Johner had been informed of the incident at the apartment building, but unfortunately the responding officer went off duty before the precinct got word that Oz was out of surgery and recovery. He prowls up to the emergency room desk and flashes his badge, and is soon escorted to where he gets to wait for Oz to wake up. He stalks into view, gaze raking over the girl there, then dismissing her as he heads for a chair.

The beep of the machine following his heart rate speeds up for a short moment, before steadying again, Oz's eyes fluttering open. Eyes unfocused, it takes a few blinks for everything to look right, gaze first landing on Sabrielle. Relaxing at /one/ thing that's familiar, it doesn't take the Irishman long to figure out where he is. White walls, nurse, pain in his side, hospital bed. "Oh, bloody hell." /Cop./

Glancing to the arriving cop, the nurse sighs and plops the paperwork down next to the patient. "Fill these out." she barks before exiting the room. This leads to some quiet but it's not to last long as one of the responding paramedics, now in civvies peers into the room, looking to Oz, and then to Sabrielle. "Hey! Just getting off shift. How's the walking knifeblock dooo..." He finally notices Johner, "...ing? Oh."

Sabrielle took one glance at the cop and sighed. This was not a good thing. She respected cops, liked most of them, even if only out of childhood habits from her father. But he wasn't pestering her for answers she didn't have, so she was going to let him do his thing. But he gets pissy with Oz, the small redhead would be hell on heels. The heart rate monitor speeding up catches the full of her attention, before she's stepping close. "Ozzie." Quietly, just looking at him. Of course, she'd got dried blood on her clothes, but she could give a rat's butt about now. Then the paramedic walking by gets a smile. "He's wakin' up, thanks. " Flushing, hands sliding into her back pockets. Awkward and quiet.

Johner just about smirked at the nurse. Woman after his own heart, that. Then he focused on the man in the bed. "Detective Johner." He growls by way of greeting. "I've been assigned to your case. What happened?" Short, sweet, and to the point.

"I got /stabbed./ What do you think happened?" Oz growls in response, basically saying the first thing that came to mind, without a few choice words. "With a bloody scalpel. In tha bloody side. What else ya need?" Cops. He does not like them.

The paramedic gives an uncomfortable smile at the beginning of the interview... awkward! Before beckoning Sabrielle over to him with the bend of a finger.

The cop gets a sharp look, no, the badge and authority don't cow her, though she's not being bristly and nasty like a disrespectful punk. But she's got that look on her face that should tell him she /does/ expect some civility, even from a NYC cop. Trailing over to the paramedic after a glance and a smile for Oz, a whisper. "Yeah?"

"A coherent account of events from the beginning would be too much to ask for, probably." Johner snarks back. "Unless you'd rather the moron that knifed you get away scott free."

Oz gives a laugh, it only being short because laughing seems to be something that hurts as well. "Oh, trust me. Ya ain't gonna catch him. He's a bloody body switcher. Can tell ya what he looks like by himself. Blue jello, and a skeleton. But when he's /in/ somebody, which is all tha fuckin' time, seems? Ya ain't catchin' him." 'Sides, Oz doesn't really want the cops catching Zach. Leave Zach to Sunset. Hell, leave Zach to him.

The paramedic gives a sheepish grin, working to keep his voice low while the two men had their not so civil conversation. "Um. were you able to contact any of his family or Mendel? Because I only know of Mendel's number and of she's still not answering."

Blue eyes snap to the cop. "A little decency, is ya please. Tha man jus' got stabbed." Then in a completely different tone to the paramedic, softer. "No. Ah've left a lot of messages, an' Ah'm sure one of his sisters will be here in no time. Ah don't know Miss Mendel, so Ah don't have her number." Ignore that hint of a guilty flush, there.

Johner gives a snarl and /just/ manages to keep a nasty epiteth from escaping his lips. Fucking mutie. Goddamn. "Just start from the top, and let me worry about the rest of it. Nailing mutant criminals is my specialty." His voice is a venomous growl. He /completely/ ignores Sabrielle. Does. Not. Exist.

Eyes narrowing slightly, Oz tucks that bit of information away. Oh, /really?/ Eyes sliding away from Johner for a moment, if anything just to piss him off more, he now focuses on SAbrielle and the paramedic for a moment. "Ya know, if ya need them for any questions, ya could just ask /me./"

"So long as someone gets informed. " The paramedic glances up towards Oz, "Oh... it's not that. It's more of a matter of courtousy."

She nods. "Ah'll make sure they know. Thank you." She's the picture of polite manners at the moment, before she's glaring at Johner. A glance at Ozzie. "Jus' makin' sure Ah called your family, Oz. Makin' sure Ah didn't need help, was all. " Unsaid was 'relax'. Then she's turning, walking over in front of Johner, between the cop and Oz. "Hey, a little bedside manner, here. Man lost a lotta blood, it affects tha memory. He's not tha one who did tha stabbin', an' Ah'd thank ya ta remember that."

"Sit. Down." Johner growls at Sabrielle. "Or I'll have you up on charges of obstructing justice. If *he* or the hospital staff bitches, I'll go, but you, little missy, have no say here." And he hasn't even /begun/ to be a sonofabitch to Oz yet.

Oh, hell no. Johner could be a complete asshole to him. Oz could care less about that, since he can give what he takes. But acting that way towards Sabrielle? Oh, /hell/ no. Letting out a sound that's a mix between a growl and snarl, Oz's hands flatten on whatever space left in the bed there is, pushing himself up, ignoring the fact that this motion really does not feel good at /all./ "You talk ta her again like that, and you'll be the one in a hospital bed."

The paramedic shakes his head at Oz's reaction, "Don't be an idiot. Sit back, relax and just answer the questions. Sooner you do, the sooner he leaves, everybody wins."

Oh, now he's just pissed off an already stressed out empath. "Don't ya talk ta me in that disrespectful a manner, or Ah'll have someone from tha staff in here ta make sure ya don't put undue stress on someone jus' outta surgery ta save his life, so fast it'll make yer head spin, officer. Got a card, or anythin' pretty, or should Ah jus' get a pen an' pad now, an' ask for your badge number, precinct, an' the head of your department? " Sweet as pie, and so close to pushing influence at Johner she can almost taste it. Not turning to look at the Irishman, eyes still on Johner. "That's all right. Ah'm sure tha officer is overworked, while bein' underappreciated an' underpaid. Aren't ya, officer. " rhetorical statement there. All that pissiness coming off Johner like heat off the sun, is being pushed back against, nice, calming sort of influence on the cop. The hell with ethics, this man needs to have his ass kicked, even if she couldn't do it the way she liked, she'd get her shots in her own way.

Johner gives Oz a look that is condescending, dismissive, and mightily amused at his threat. Yeahrightsure. A bed-ridden ... boy ... is going to flatten /him/ ? /Please/. Then he eyes the girl. "I said sit the hell down, girl. Sorry to disappoint you if you were expecting some meek, mild, pushover simpering-ass nancy cop. But I /do/ have other shit to do, and if you lot don't want to cooperate, then I am not obliged to do jack shit, and you'll be doing me a favor. Less paperwork. So if neither of you wants to tell me anything, you know, /useful/? I'll just be on my way. And there won't be anyone else coming over here to beg scraps from you, either."

The look does not help Johner at all, and neither does the answer he gives Sabrielle. Raising one hand to rest of the metal sides on the die of the bed, seeming to be using it to push him into a better sitting position, Oz tightens his grip, the metal denting and crumbling, much like a wet piece of tissue paper. "Wouldn't be givin' me too many other reasons, boyo." He growls. "'Specially considerin' there ain't no use in me tellin' ya shit. Ya ain't gonna catch him, no matter how hard ya try. Trust me."

Oh yes, wrong way to go. "Ah have a name. Ya can call me /Miss Harris/. Ah'm not expectin' some ass kisser, but Ah do expect some decency. Ah'm sure ya have lots of things ta do, but bein' nasty ta Oz won't get ya tha answers ya want any faster. Any cop worth his salt knows that sort of thing. You're bein' belligerent to tha victim, an' if ya can't correct that, jus' tell me your badge number, precinct, and supervisor's name now. Ah'm sorry, but Ah'm not in awe of your badge. Ah respect it, because mah Daddy taught me that not all law enforcement officers are jerks. Ah already gave mah statement, ta tha officer that arrived on tha scene. An' since when is it procedure ta badger a witness, much less threaten ta not do your job, while a patient is still recovering from blood loss and coming out of sedation? " She pushes harder at Johner, a glance back at Oz to get him to try and relax.

Johner's temperament is ... proving to be rather difficult to manipulate. This is not some temporary bad mood here. He gets /right/ in Sabrielle's face and fairly /roars/ at her. "SIT DOWN." Then, in a somewhat less loud tone. "I have not badgered /anyone/. I asked for details other than 'I got stabbed with a scalpel by a blue jello skeleton guy'." Abruptly, Johner goes silent, as the description finally has a chance to register. "Waitafuckingsecondhere." Oh, now Sabrielle might as well throw in the towel on the influence, 'cause Johner's fucking /incandescent/ with rage. "I know that fucker. There was a fucking manhunt to take him down because he was a cop killer. FUCK."

"Then ya don't need anythin' else. Good." Oz hisses, eyes fiery with anger. "Now get the fuck out."

"HOLD UP!" The paramedic apparently was not happy with the statement Sabrielle was making, "How CAN he do his job when you people WON'T cooperate?! People like you make our jobs one big pain in the ass. We get you guys on your worst moments usually and we average what, 8, 9 calls a 12 hour shift? So that's 9 people at their worst being part of our daily god damn routine and maybe ONE of those calls consist of a person who will actually listen to the damn professional. Yes it sucks that you got stabbed. I feel for you. But being all bitchy to the cop isn't going to help you one goddamn cent!" He gestures over to Johner, "So WHAT if his bedside manner isn't all that great? Do you want the asshole who gets the job done or Mr. Rogers who is so busy playing singing Kumbaya while SAM is capping another victim with a bad afro?!" He blinks at what Johner says, "Manhunt?" He blinks, "For a blue guy...

Sabrielle just crosses her arms over her chest, clearly not impressed. She all but yawns, but holds it back, deciding more sarcasm would be bad. "Ya've snapped an' snarled, an' been less than pleasant in yer beside manner. " A sigh. "Still want your badge number and supervisor's name, officer sunshine." Yeah, she's not that easy to bowl over. Eyes shift over to the paramedic, cooler headed than any of the men in the room, it seems. "Ah'm jus' askin' him ta be a little more considerate. Hardly obstructin' justice. Ah could be a ravin' bitch, but Ah'm not. Ah'm jus' askin' him ta not be so damned cranky. " Then that calm is pushed at the paramedic, because Johner? He's just giving her a headache. Turning, moving to the side of the bed, a glance at Oz. She doesn't dare touch him in front of other people.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. That ... " Johner sputters off into enraged silence. "Goddamn sick-ass bastard. Jumps bodies and kills whoever he jumps into. Took a good cop down that way." He grabs his radio and starts barking into it, most of it cop shorthand, but 'and I want the files on my desk before I get back or else' is said in plain English. "Where was he?" He asks Oz. The only damn thing he wants to know, now.

"Where /was/ he? Or where /is/ he?" The only answer Johner gets to /that/ question is a slow grin that spreads itself over Oz's lips, one that basically says 'Let me dredge up some care from Giveafuck Bay.' Johner can look for his answer, but he isn't getting it from this source.

Of course he's going to be cranky when you guys are pretty much attacking him from the start." The paramedic replies back to Sabrielle, "And he wasn't all that rude to start with. I mean sure he didn't offer you tea or a cookie. But this isn't fantasy land and he's not Mickey Mouse." The paramedic glances over to Johner, "Stabbing victim was outside W 46rd Street Apartments. Being that he's still alive now, he didn't walk from where he was stabbed."

A glance at the paramedic, pushing harder. "Ah don't expect tha Queen's English, but not snarling an snappin' like some sort of rabid animal might have helped. " Okay, so she can't help it, one hand barely brushing fingers of Oz's forearm. "It's not even how he asked tha first time, it was tha way he got snippy when he didn't like tha answer."

Johner's now more or less ignoring Oz and Sabrielle. Bloody civilians. Just because he didn't offer tea and cake and ... this? This is why he deals with vics as little as possible. Because they're fucking annoying. "Got it. There'll be a manhunt out for the creep by dawn." Or heads would roll. "We got the fucker once, we'll get him again. Now if you'll excuse me, I got work to do." And he starts for the door.

Calming slightly at Sabrielle's touch, Oz keeps his narrowed eyes on Johner as he leaves. Good bloody riddance. Muttering a few choice words under his breath, the Irishman for the moment distracts himself with... paperwork. ...Yeah, he'd rather get stabbed again, thanks.

The paramedic quiets, glancing over to Sabrielle and Oz, and then to Sabrielle's hand. "Ah..." He frowns, "I should probably go too. See if I can contact your /girlfriend/, Mr. Delaney."

She watches the officer leave, the look on her face almost remote, lacking in any real definition like a doll's features. She'd get that officer's information, even if it meant begging favors from Justin, when she could find him. That is if she can't get all the information on her own. Shaking her head, forcing herself to brighten. "Hey there, you. Ya need anythin'? Ah called Sunny an' all, but left her a message, she wasn't at home. Ah even called Angie an' left one. Dunno how much good that'll do. " A glance at the paramedic, all stressing the word. One brow arching. She was hardly doing anything inappropriate to trying to comfort a family friend. Wasn't like she'd kissed him. "Thank ya for your help, again." She'd still have to figure out a way to get lunch delivered to that paramedic station.

Glancing up, Oz raises a scarred eyebrow at the paramedic. "Ya do that, then." He answers, before looking back down at the paperwork. Handing silently towards Sabrielle. "Please?" Look, he even said the magic word! "I'll tell ya what to write."

There's a smirk at Oz, taking the paperwork, picking up the pen. "Sure. But jus' this once, ya mind. Ah hate paperwork." Clearly just yanking his chain.

Making sure the paramedic has left, Oz gives a pained groan once Sabrielle takes the clipboard from him, easing himself back onto the bed. Angelika is apparently not the only actor in the 'family.' "Fuck... What tha hell did they do ta me?"

"Ah don't think ya can drink for a while, Oz. An' he stabbed ya, whoever he was. Did ya even have a weapon?" Wasn't a fair fight if he didn't. Hand running over his hair, before she's filling out forms again. "Ah should probably help ya with these, call Sunset again, then get outta here."

"Zach'ry Miller." It's the first time Oz has probably ever said his name, and it wouldn't take an empath to feel the hatred behind his words. "No. Didn't. Shouldn't need one. Hope Sunset gets ta him before I do. Probably tha reason she ain't here yet." Then calming, looking over Sabrielle. "Outta here?" He asks, softly.

Blue eyes widen. "Sunset shouldn't be goin' after him in her condition. How would she even know?" Paperwork filled out, pen set aside. "Who ta go look for, Ah mean. " Flushing, letting her hand slide over one of his. "That guy said he was gonna call Bridget. Ya really wanna have ta explain me ta her here?"

"Don't really question how she knows stuff, but if she knew it already, I wouldn't be surprised." Oz murmurs, voice quieter, whats left of the sedatives in his system starting to take effect. Hand turning over, threading her fingers through his, Oz lightly shrugs. "Deal with that when it happens. If it even happens. Just... please don't go."

"Still, she shouldn't. Somethin' could happen to tha baby. " Melting when he turns his hand over to take hers, damn him. "Ozzie. Ah don't wanna make it harder. Ah mean, she might try ta hurt me, thinkin' Ah had somethin' ta do with ya gettin' stabbed. " Moving the metal rail to sit on the edge of his bed. "But if ya don't want me ta, Ah won't go. At least not until someone else gets here. Then Ah wanna go home an' change."

"Wouldn't hurt ya. Wouldn't think that either. Not like her." Oz mutters, hand tightening around hers for a brief moment. "Just stay. Stay. Bed's big enough. We can both just go ta sleep."

"Ya wouldn't think Ah was tha kind ta cheat either, but Ah did. People do weird things, Ozzie. " Hand squeezing his back, a low laugh. "Oh /that/ would look good, me sleepin' on your hospital bed with ya, if your girlfriend shows up?" But even then, she's snuggling up to him a little. "Scared tha hell outta me, ya know. "

Arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her as close as she can get without it hurting. "Deal with it if it happens." He mutters, barely awake. "Didn't mean ta. Scared me, too." Breaths becoming slightly deeper, longer. Then quietly, very quietly, one more thing. "Love you." Before he's finally drifting off to sleep.

She started to protest him moving so much, pulling her into him. But she figures if it helps him feel more secure, she can just lay there with him until he goes to sleep, then scoot out and pull a chair up next to the bed. "Ah know ya didn't mean ta." It was the thought of if she hadn't decided to go to Justin's when she had, that scared her. But everything ceases, even her breathing for a second, when he says that. Eyes slide shut, teeth grinding. Sure, her empathy told her he wasn't lying, but he was also drugged up. Swallowing hard, just letting herself snuggle up to him. She'd worry about what to make of him saying /that/ later. Sweet lord.