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He immediately recognizes his target as he enters the bar.
It’s not as fancy as the places he usually visits due to his job environment, but it’s decent enough not to make him stand out. Not that it would matter, as he doesn’t really care about his surroundings; he’ll go wherever he has to go and that’s it, such details aren’t important.
Illumi knows his target is an enhancer, so he plans to shorten his distance as much as he can, not giving the man a chance to fight back.
He sits by the counter and orders a drink; even if he’s giving his back to the man, he’s avidly observing him through the reflection of the polished surface that decorates the walls of the bar. The man, a tall and bearded brunette, is having drinks with two friends and each of them has a woman by his side; they’re laughing.
He stops looking at the man and instead analyzes his own reflection, as serious as ever, and he can’t help but notice the contrast between him and the rest of the people dancing and drinking; most of them are enjoying themselves while others are crying, clearly drunk. Everyone’s faces express some type of feeling but when Illumi looks at himself he can’t see anything more than a blank canvas, an expressionless, emotionless face.
He blinks and blinks but his vision stays the same.
A drink is placed in front of him; the bartender doesn’t speak and starts preparing another drink. No one comes near to him and the seat by his right stays empty but Illumi doesn’t mind; the fewer distractions he has, the better.
The man stands from his seat and enters a hallway located on the opposite side of the room. Illumi takes his cue and follows him, avoiding the mass of bodies that keep colliding with him. Suddenly, they’re the only two people in the hallway, so it’s clear that the man is aware of Illumi’s presence; the lights turn off, but he keeps walking, perfectly capable of seeing in the dark.
Out of a sudden, he feels a blow being directed at him and quickly dodges it, thus starting the fight.
Trying to keep his distance, the man starts running, opening the door that leads to the basement. Illumi calmly follows him and he’s actually thankful for this persecution, considering that now that they’ve left the bar, he won’t have any witnesses that might need to be taken care of.
He still remembers that one time his target crawled on the ground, bleeding and screaming, and ended up alerting everyone, so Illumi found himself cornered in a room full of people, which then became a room full of corpses. He hadn’t learned nen by that point so that was the only way to handle the situation, however, when he came back to the Zoldyck mansion he was punished for a month for messing up an incredibly easy job.
Even though it’s been almost a decade since that, the memory is fresh in his mind. He wonders what would his father do to him if he slaughtered this bar to the ground: Would he be punished again? That seemed unlikely, it had been years since the last time he had been locked and chained in the basement. But then again, it had been years since the last time he had made a mistake or hadn’t accomplished his orders to perfection.
He falters for a moment. Someone is following him.
By the time they’re both in the bar’s basement, which works as a liquor cellar, Illumi is sure he’s being watched, so he pays attention to his every side, not leaving a single part of his body exposed in case he needs to handle a surprise attack. Weird enough, the second attack never arrives, making it appear like his watcher is content with being a bystander in the developing fight.
The man then tries a few more attacks before Illumi kills him, nonetheless, Illumi is more concerned with the bloodthirsty aura he felt while being focused on the target. His first conclusion was to think the person observing him was one of the man’s friends that stayed behind, but that doesn’t sound right, as they would’ve tried to help the now-dead man.
Illumi remains in his place, waiting for the other to strike first.
His waiting is interrupted by the arrival of one of his target’s friends —this time Illumi recognizes the face he previously saw at the bar— but as he’s about to take out one of his needles, not willing to waste more time, the man’s throat is slashed by a deck card, restricting him for emitting a sound.
Illumi’s watcher chuckles. “No, no. I arrived first, so it’s my turn to fight him.”
A clown appears as the other man falls to the ground. The first thing Illumi notices when he looks at the man is the star and tear decorating the man’s cheeks. The second thing he notices is the bloodied card he’s holding with his left hand.
Illumi blinks at him.
“Are you with them?” The assassin asks, determining if he has to kill his new opponent or if he’s just messing around.
“Not at all,” the clown begins with a smile, “I was merely watching you.”
Illumi makes an affirmative sound. “Mn, I noticed.”
If the clown was expecting anything else as a response, Illumi doesn’t care. They look at each other for a moment before the other speaks again.
“I want to fight you.” The redhead says, and Illumi can’t say he’s not impressed.
When people say they want to fight him it’s usually after he’s killed a partner or friend, aside from the fact that those words are always spoken with utmost anger and disgust.
Nevertheless, this man hasn’t stopped smiling since he first appeared in Illumi’s sight.
He might be slightly surprised, but he’s not interested. His job is done, so he wants nothing more than to go to sleep.
“Not interested. I don’t have to fight you.” He examines the room and the only way out is through the door he used to enter the room in the first place. A door that is closer to the clown than to him.
And, clearly, the clown has noticed his thoughts, since he swiftly positions himself in front of the door, only to close it and put on the lock.
Illumi watches the scene display.
“You’re strong. I think we’ll have an exhilarating fight.” The clown talks again, excited.
Illumi is tempted to reply “I am strong” , but it’s pointless. He doesn’t have to prove anything to this man that is probably just messing up with him.
“Still not interested. I only came here to kill my target.”
“Do you only fight targets? Then should I hire you in order for you to grant me a match?” Even if the words are plainly mocking, Illumi doesn’t miss the flirtatious undertone that permeates the man’s every word and gesture since the moment he opened his mouth. He’s not ashamed to admit he doesn’t understand this man. Why would someone want to fight him this much?
"I don't think you can afford me." He replies, hoping this will discourage the other’s excitement.
Instead, the clown agrees. "I suppose you're correct, so please excuse my rudeness." And then he starts attacking him.
He tells himself he has no other choice but to defend himself, even if he is a bit intrigued, and he instantly becomes aware of just how much the other’s strength matches his. Illumi is surprised by the technique of the other’s nen and by the deep excitement that never leaves his opponent’s face.
He is even more surprised when he hears the other moan. He’s heard screams before, nevertheless, this is new.
The clown’s smile doesn’t falter no matter how relentless Illumi’s needles are and Illumi starts to feel irritated.
He wasn’t interested in the fight, but this man is probably the strongest fighter he’s encountered so far and Illumi can’t wait to crush him down. Even if he knows this is pointless and that he won’t get anything out of it, he wants the satisfaction of winning against this very strong man, he wants to prove to himself that he is the perfect assassin, that he is the oldest Zoldyck, that he could be the heir . He knows that’s Killua’s role, and he would never do anything against his younger brother or take what’s not his, but he could .
“Oh darling, you look exquisite when you make that face.” The clown gives him a dazzling smile as Illumi avoids one of his cards and he actually starts to enjoy the match.
• • • •
He doesn’t know how much time has passed; he’s distantly aware that they’ve spent several hours in this room —that is now utterly destroyed—.
Illumi doesn’t appreciate this outcome.
He has not and won’t surrender, however, the fatigue that has bottled up in the last few hours is becoming bothersome. His entire body is filled with cuts, some deeper than others, and he has multiple cards encrusted in his limbs; he also has a broken rib from when the man hit him with a piece of concrete using his bungee gum, a name he has learned after spending some time with him.
“May I suggest a break? My legs are killing me and the wound on your chest looks questionable.” The clown speaks, panting. He’s not in better condition than Illumi, carrying several needles in his legs and torso, therefore hindering his movements.
Illumi wants to protest but the other is probably right. He has no intention of dying like this.
He nods and they stare at each other intently, deciding if they can trust those words before the clown starts to sit on the ground and Illumi repeats the motion. Each of them is on opposite ends of the room, with the clown leaning against the wall next to the door, and Illumi leaning against a destroyed box of liquor, in front of him.
“I told you, didn’t I? That it would be an exhilarating fight. Well, I didn’t disappoint and neither did you, it was the best I’ve ever had.” He has a satisfied smile on his face, and continues, “I wanted to kill you, but you’re way more intriguing than I anticipated.”
Illumi stares blankly at him. “Why are you doing this? You don’t need to fight me to the death.”
The other merely shrugs. “You could say I just enjoy a good fight.”
The clown says that with such certainty that Illumi thinks perhaps that’s just it, there’s no utter motive behind his will to fight, maybe he just enjoys the adrenaline. Illumi nods even if he’s confused, as there are a lot of things he doesn’t really understand.
He then becomes self-conscious of his injuries. Now that he has taken a minute to regain his breath, the pain starts settling deep within his body; he’s aware that the longer this break extends, the more he’ll feel the heaviness of the cuts and bruises.
“Should we continue?” He asks because it feels rude to just attack when the other was the one who proposed the break.
The clown isn’t that pleased now. “If we resume our match, either one of us or both will die. And as I said, you’re captivating enough to stop me from doing that; I can see that you will grow to become an even more extraordinary man,” he doesn’t avert his eyes from Illumi’s as he slowly licks his lips, “When that moment arrives, we’ll continue this match.” He finishes his speech as if making a promise to Illumi.
The Zoldyck doesn’t know how to answer.
“Seems like you have everything sorted out, but I don’t agree with that plan.” He won’t let this stranger do as he pleases if he expects Illumi to follow his every word.
Illumi is not this clown’s nor anyone’s puppet.
He’s not liking this development.
“Well then, darling, what do you have in mind? I’m open to new ideas.”
“I want to kill you.”
He hums. “If I had a jenny for every time I’ve heard that… let’s say that I’d afford to hire you,” he chuckles and then continues, “Although, I would have thought you only killed your targets.”
“I can make exceptions.” Illumi answers, and, to his surprise, the man laughs.
He doesn’t know Illumi actually manipulates people to follow his orders, which ultimately ends up killing them; since it’s just the two of them, he can’t know that.
“I’m Hisoka, it’s a pleasure to meet you. You should be happy; I don’t tell my name to dead men.” Hisoka winks at him and Illumi huffs, wondering if this man knows who he’s talking to.
“Illumi Zoldyck.”
Hisoka’s eyes widen at that and he extends his head to the front to observe Illumi better, even if he’s been fighting him for a while now.
“Oh… the eldest Zoldyck son. No wonder this turned out better than expected.”
Illumi remains quiet. He ponders on the situation he’s gotten himself in.
He can’t go back to the mansion in this condition, even if he sneaks in, the butlers will tell his parents and everyone will think he failed in a job, and a simple one, at that. He’s an expert so what can he give as an explanation? That he got involved in a pointless fight and managed to receive such blows? It would be a disgrace. The last time he came home this injured after completing a contract he was Killua’s age.
“What is making that pretty face of yours look so sour?” Hisoka asks, encouraged by Illumi’s willingness to participate in the conversation, seeing he hasn’t backed out from answering him and isn’t planning to attack him in the short term.
“I can’t go back like this.” He looks down at himself to inspect his appearance; it’s extremely disheveled.
“How so?”
“I got injured from a simple job.”
“But you got injured because of me ,” Hisoka starts and he sounds very proud of that, “and I wasn’t part of your job.”
Ilumi can’t argue against that logic. “You’re right, but I don’t think my father will agree.”
“Why would he have to? This is just you and me having fun.”
Illumi doesn’t appreciate Hisoka’s remark.
“Let's fight.” The assassin stands up but Hisoka stays on the ground.
“As much as I reveled in our moments together, I’ve already voiced my thoughts on the matter. I’d love to see your beautiful face like that again, but not today.”
He has heard multiple adjectives used to describe his face, but people stopped using "beautiful” when he was a kid; the one he usually hears is “emotionless”.
Hisoka stands up and starts to walk towards Illumi; it’s a slow motion, with his right leg being almost dragged across the floor. “First answer me, why do you want to fight me?” His arms are open like he was showing himself off to an audience.
“You’re the one who started this. Are you backing off now?” Illumi wants to get this over with. It’s the longest interaction he’s had in a while but he’s getting tired of it; he wonders if all conversations are usually this long.
Hisoka makes a low tsk sound. “That doesn’t sound right, no…” He stops, leaving only a step of separation between them, and places both hands on his hips, the entirety of his upper body leaning towards Illumi. "I think… You want to be strong. You want power. I’ve met plenty of people and I developed a system of my own to describe nen users; as a manipulator, you are meticulous and you like doing things your own way.”
"I don't need power." Illumi deliberately doesn’t mention the second half of Hisoka’s discourse as it can’t be more incorrect; doing things his own way? That’s not the way the Zoldyck family works and it’ll never be.
"No one's talking about needs or obligations, we're talking about actions derived from raw pleasure, my dear."
Suddenly, Illumi thinks about Alluka, locked in her room, her equally dangerous and impressive power. The things he could do with such power…
“I don’t feel pleasure. I don’t feel anything.” Illumi doesn’t have a problem admitting that to a stranger, it’s not a hidden truth or an impressive statement, it’s the way things are: the sun is bright, the night is dark, and Illumi is emotionless. The only pleasure he feels is from serving the family, and the only reason he yearns for more power is to become a better assassin, as that’s the only thing he is and will ever be; Illumi knows this by heart, as these are the things he keeps reciting to Killua through the needle stuck in his little brain.
He’s been teaching them to Killua because they are true.
Hisoka’s ever-present smile is replaced by an exaggerated pout. “Now, why would you say that? I can tell you’ve been enjoying yourself, you’ve been very enthusiastic. Most people mindlessly pursue my death fueled by meaningless emotions such as rage, but you haven’t.”
If this were any other person he would be sure that this conversation’s entire purpose would be to avoid being killed; he would think this was the case if it weren’t for Hisoka’s confident demeanor, getting closer to the assassin than the average person would, invading his personal space without fear of getting attacked. Hisoka looks like he is holding back himself from fighting him, not for Illumi’s sake or lack of strength, but for mere personal fulfillment.
He thinks back to their previous exchange of attacks just an hour ago, of how Hisoka deliberately let himself be hit multiple times with a smile on his face. His left cheek is swollen and his jaw is filled with scratches, covering his face with dried blood all over it, combined with the remains of his makeup. And even then, Hisoka is excited and willing to let Illumi hit him again. He’s definitely not trying to buy time.
Also, Hisoka is right. Illumi is not doing this because he’s angry at Hisoka, if anything, he could say the clown is the most amusing thing he has seen in a while.
“I also think… we could make a great pair. Have you ever heard that great minds think alike?” The other speaks again, getting even closer to Illumi, approaching him by his right, his left shoulder almost touching Illumi’s right one.
“I don’t have friends.” An assassin doesn’t need friends. The words instantly appear in his mind, as it is one of the most basic things he’s learned; it is ingrained within his soul.
“Neither do I,” Hisoka says with a smile, “but that’s not what I’m offering.”
Illumi immediately considers the advantages that the deal provides in case the clown is being honest with his offer: Hisoka could be an ally, someone unrelated to the business and to his family, someone that might be bearable enough to keep by his side —considering that he’s probably the first person he has met that has bothered to spend a large amount of time in his company, which in itself is astonishing— and whose death wouldn’t be an issue, in case it was needed.
He has always worked alone and is therefore used to that method, except it was mostly because there was no other option . He despises letting the butlers get involved with his affairs and it is unnecessary to send several members of the family for the completion of a job when they have all been taught to work alone.
Illumi, however, does entertain the possibility of this being a trap, nonetheless, that idea quickly vanishes because of how bizarre it sounds. His father has more efficient means to keep an eye on him and knowing his mother's tastes, she wouldn’t resort to someone like Hisoka.
“Why would I trust you?”
“That’s part of the charm: you don’t. You’ll have to stick around long enough to reach a conclusion. In the meantime, we could get to know each other…” Hisoka’s arm slides and positions itself over Illumi, his hand comfortably resting over his left shoulder.
Hisoka has a needle pressed against his neck the next second.
“I was going to propose going to my apartment to treat our respective wounds. How does that sound?” Hisoka isn't the slightest bit bothered by Illumi’s threat and instead gets his head closer to Illumi to catch his gaze, not removing his eyes off him, making the needle draw tiny drops of blood with the movement.
Illumi is briefly surprised when he notices that ever since this interaction started the other man has never really pushed him in any way. The few people who dare to have a conversation with him are mostly focused on making themselves feel like they have the upper hand, expecting Illumi to follow their every will just because he's the one being hired and providing his services.
One of the things he despises the most is people who think they have the right to order him around.
"Why are you taking this so far? I could easily kill you." He finds himself asking.
Hisoka is unbothered by the question. "Why wouldn't I? I'm a man of peculiar tastes and once something picks my interest I don't let it go… And darling, you are fascinating ."
Ilumi doesn't know what he expected as an answer but taking into account the way this man has carried himself around him so far, he's not surprised. Even if he might not understand what Hisoka means, his words aren't a threat and Illumi is millimeters away from stabbing him, so he supposes that must count for something.
He puts the needle away and a wide smile appears on Hisoka's lips.
"Can I take that as a yes?"
Illumi removes the cards still embedded in his legs and torso and arranges his broken rib back to its original position, trying to avoid disturbing the closest organs.
"Yes."
A second passes by in silence and Hisoka doesn't plan on giving Illumi more time to reconsider his answer, so he talks again. "To be honest, I thought you wouldn't be interested."
"Hm…" Illumi thinks for a moment. "You're capable and I don't have anything to lose. It is a decent deal. That works for me."
Hisoka smiles. Somehow this time it feels more real than the previous ones and the assassin wonders what would affect the man's mood in such a way.
"Now…" Hisoka begins, looking at Illumi straight in the eye as though he was preparing himself to say something of great importance, "What are your thoughts on magic tricks?"
Hisoka is still touching him more than strictly necessary and Illumi is standing still as a statue, but he doesn't make any attempt to untangle himself from the arm surrounding him.
"Magic tricks?" He blinks.
"Of course! Can't you see I'm a magician?" He sways his hips slightly like he was dancing.
Illumi frowns in disbelief.
"Here," Hisoka takes Illumi's right hand and places a card on it; the card is upside down, showing nothing more than a blank surface and the self-proclaimed magician doesn't let it go, keeping his hand over Illumi's palm, pressing a bit just to avoid the card from falling to the ground, "What card would you like to see in here?"
The assassin thinks for a moment. He doesn't have any preference for a particular design but he is aware that during their fight, every card Hisoka threw at him had hearts on it —in fact, he still remembers which cards were the ones that managed to cut through his body—.
"The king of hearts."
"Amazing choice. Let's see what we have here, shall we?"
Hisoka turns the card around and there it is the king of hearts, a dark red coloring the figure's face. The card has now dried blood on it, in the exact same place where Illumi's blood had stained the king of hearts that managed to get incrusted in his lower abdomen. Illumi looks down to his feet where he had previously thrown the cards after removing them from his body, only to discover that the card he is looking for is no longer on the floor; he was sure he had seen it by his right, but now it has vanished.
He looks at Hisoka and then at the floor again.
Ilumi blinks a few times and his vision stays the same.
"How…?"
"A magician never reveals his secrets."
"It's not a complex trick but there's so much I can do at this moment." Hisoka continues, observing his dirty top and bottom, not feeling pleased about its current state. "Did you like it?" He sounds genuinely interested in Illumi's response as this was the most important thing they had discussed.
Ilumi nods. He still doesn't understand what happened.
Hisoka looks positively delighted with his reaction.
"Let's go." Ilumi changes the subject and Hisoka follows him, clearly enjoying himself. He doesn't think he has ever seen someone so happy around him, other than Killua as a kid, when he wasn't scared of him, however, it's been a long time since that.
Hisoka remains with his arm around him and instead of moving away like Illumi expected him to do, he puts on more weight on Illumi, letting himself be supported by the Zoldyck, who can't hide his strangeness.
"I can't feel my leg." The magician provides an explanation.
Illumi frowns and Hisoka gives him a bashful smile.
He doesn't object, but he does announce a warning, "Don't touch my chest."
"Oh… are you getting shy? Don't worry, I'll only touch you wherever you want me to."
Illumi shakes his head. "It's not that. I have a broken rib."
"Oh."
They get out of the bar without so much as receiving odd glances through their walk; it's likely that every person in that place has witnessed far more unusual scenes throughout the night.
Hisoka stops a taxi and gives the address. When they get in the car the magician still doesn't move away from him.
His apartment ends up being in Heaven's Arena and they arrive without issues; the ride is quiet but Illumi doesn't feel uncomfortable. Only when they're in front of the door does Hisoka remove himself from Illumi, opening it wide open and inviting the assassin in.
"Make yourself comfortable." The magician says and disappears into the adjacent room, which seems to be his bedroom. Ilumi stays in the living room, looking around the department. He doesn't miss the fact that Hisoka doesn't have much trouble walking now; even though the limp is real, he can easily walk dragging his leg.
Illumi is not surprised. This whole time the man has been more worried in putting on a show rather than attending to his injuries.
It's a spacious room, dazzlingly clean and ordered. He is received with a bright orange sofa and a low crystal table, the room decorated in a modern way, making the assassin wonder whether Hisoka was in charge of the interior design. He compares it to his own room at the mansion, with its gray walls lacking any decoration; the only furniture found in the space is his bed, closet, desk, and an empty shelf.
Hisoka returns with a box in his hands and sets it on the table; it’s filled with bandages and other supplies, giving him the impression that the magician is used to having violent encounters such as theirs. Once again, he's not surprised.
Ilumi sits down and Hisoka sits next to him, taking some bandages and cotton from the box. He removes his shirt and is about to take what he needs from the box when the magician stops him.
"No, no. I assume you're used to people doing this for you, right? Allow me ."
He is actually not at all used to that.
He stays still and raises his arm to allow Hisoka to clean the cuts on his chest; the deepest one is under his left nipple and Hisoka thoroughly cleans the wound with surprising care, trying to cause the minimum amount of pain. It's ironic, considering he was the one to inflict such a cut on Illumi's body.
Hisoka knows Illumi is letting him do this. The assassin mostly wants to see just how far the magician is willing to go for his own amusement.
And, the truth is, Ilumi is curious.
It's been a while since he felt that excitement run through his veins. Since he felt.
What will this unpredictable man do next? Will he press a card against his throat? Will he use his bungee gum to secure his limbs? Will he caress his skin?
Hisoka settles for the latter.
The magician gets closer than necessary to make sure the bandages surround Illumi's entire abdomen, the other's face mere inches away from his neck. Ilumi doesn't avert his view for a single moment and Hisoka does the same, smiling at the Zoldyck and simply waiting for his reaction. He is aware that Hisoka has been analyzing his responses, and that makes Illumi suspect that the man merely likes studying other people's reactions to his odd behavior.
"All done." A pleasant expression permeates the magician's features.
Ilumi blinks.
After that, they both tend their respective wounds.
His hands move on their own; Ilumi knows how to do this by memory at this point, so in the meantime, he is still trying to process everything that's happened today. He realizes it's been a long time since someone touched him with such confidence and then finds out that he doesn't remember the last time someone touched him with the purpose of healing him rather than inflicting pain. It's odd; even if he was hurting as the wounds were cleaned —one of them is deep and produces a deep, burning sensation when touched—, the pain had subsided a bit, something that doesn't usually happen when he's the one treating his injuries.
Could that be one of Hisoka's abilities? He doesn’t think so.
Illumi is troubled and intrigued at the same time by Hisoka's presence, something he doesn't dislike, which is odd, to say the least.
"Had you ever come to Heaven's Arena before? I have a match next week so you're invited to see me… If I had someone cheering up for me I might be more motivated." Hisoka interrupts his thoughts.
"I came here when I was five but I didn't come back after that."
"I see. I suppose you didn't get the chance to compete against a floor master, did you?"
Ilumi shakes his head. "I dropped out after I reached the 200th floor. I didn't learn nen until a year later."
The magician gives him an exaggerated sigh. "Ah, then you've missed the fun part! Would you be interested in participating again?"
"No."
"A shame." Hisoka pouts but he doesn't press further, instead changing the subject.
It appears that the magician took his own words by heart, asking plenty of questions and forcing Illumi to engage in the conversation, making it seem like he actually wants to get to know him better. He doesn't ask business-related questions, probably aware that Illumi won't give an answer and will avoid sharing details, so instead, he brings up a variety of topics that don't intrigue Illumi in the least, but somehow still manage to take a few phrases out of him.
Hisoka is telling him about a candy he loved eating as a child and then begins to explain why the joker is the most important and his favorite card, when Ilumi stops for a moment, noticing he wants to ask Hisoka something, except he's not sure if he's meant to ask questions too.
Hisoka notices his hesitancy when he finishes his monologue. "Is there a problem?"
"Why does your card deck only include heart figures?"
Hisoka is delighted by the question. "It doesn't."
He then shows Ilumi all of his cards and the assassin sees the variety of designs. It's a normal deck, with spades, diamonds, and clubs.
"Oh."
It's weird. Illumi gets the feeling that Hisoka is a masterful manipulator and liar, but he doesn't think Hisoka has lied so far.
“Would you like to stay? Dinner is on me.” Hisoka asks, unprompted.
He reflects on his answer for a moment. He should go back to the mansion and give his report; he's just been wasting time with a stranger.
However, there's nothing urgent he needs to take care of and the thought of going back produces an irritating sensation at the back of his neck.
He wants to see more of this.
“Okay.”
Illumi stays.
He comes back the following week. And a few more times after that.