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The sudden burst of buzzing vibrations inside her palm startles Grace, pulls her abruptly back into the present. She blinks her eyes, gives her head a quick shake to clear the daze of hours of torturous waiting from her mind. But the white fuzziness in front of her eyes remains white and fuzzy, impalpable, even as her eyes focus on large glass doors and white walls behind them.
There is nothing to see here, just empty space, a weird reflection of the inside of her mind. An endless void filled with nothing but small whispers of please, please, please, let them be okay.
The phone buzzes once more, startles her all over again. Grace looks down at it, at her own white-knuckled fingers curled around the pink casing that suddenly looks strange, too colorful, too vibrant, too alive.
She turns the phone over to see the screen and shifts on the squeaky plastic chair to sit up straighter at the same time. The movements feel slow, like being stuck in thick molasses. Her whole body is lethargic and heavy, muscles and bones stiff from sitting in the same spot for far too long. She briefly wonders if this is what it feels like to be really old.
Please, let Danno grow really old.
Rubbing tiredly at her eyes, she inhales a sharp breath, trying not to think about— any of it.
It's not easy, to remain in that diffuse space between hope and despair. To not picture the worst possible outcome of all this, to not wish for too much only to have it all taken away at the end, to keep somewhere in the middle, on neutral ground.
The stinging clean smell that fills her nose doesn't make it any easier. Hospitals all smell the same. They smell like doctor's appointments, blood tests, bad news and good news. They smell like your brother could die and like your brother is going to live. They smell like maybe and like maybe not.
Grace bites down on her bottom lip, trying to tell herself to stay in the in-between, where it's good news and bad news, where both is true and both is not. Where Danno is Schrödinger's cat, right until the doctor comes out and tells them…
She makes herself look back at the phone and stop thinking about quantum mechanics, promising herself that she won't watch another episode of The Big Bang Theory for a long while.
There's a message from her mom, asking if she's sure she wants to stay at the hospital for the night, followed by an offer to send someone to come get her.
A spark of annoyance flares up inside Grace, a small ball of anger with long, itching tendrils reaching all the way into the tips of her fingers and toes, prickling under her scalp.
Scraping her teeth over the lip still caught between them, she tries to ignore the reaction, tries to not let the irritation take a hold of her. It'd be easy right now, to focus on that, to just feel something else aside from this inability, this helplessness. It'd feel good to lash out and call her mom and yell at her and just do something about all these feelings burning inside.
But it wouldn't any good, wouldn't be fair. Grace knows this isn't her mom trying to tell her what to do or thinking she can't handle being here. Her mom's just checking in with her, making sure she's okay. She's reaching out, maybe seeking comfort and even reassurance herself.
Grace knows her mom is worried about Danno, too. She knows her mom would be here if she could — even though, if she were here, she would probably say that it's just so Grace isn't alone, to make sure she's all right. But Grace would know that her mom's worried about Danno, too. She would know. Because she knows her mom still loves her dad. Not like she used to back in Jersey. But a lot more than she wants to.
Her mom can't be here, though. She's at home with Charlie, alone, because Stan's on a business trip.
Mom won't know when the doctor comes out to tell them how the surgery went. She won't know until Grace calls her an tells her.
Suddenly, there's a strange feeling inside Grace's chest. It feels almost like a punch, a tightness, an extra beat of her heart, a small jolt of electricity. Because what if… What if the doctor comes out and it's not good news. What if Danno… What if she has to be the one to tell her mom, to tell Charlie that Danno—
Tears sting in her eyes, blurring her vision.
Please, please, please, let him be okay.
She wipes at her face before anyone can notice. Even though she wants to cry, wants to let go and give in, she can't. She just can't.
Inhaling a noisy, sniveling breath she shoves those thoughts to the back of her mind. Because her mom is waiting for a response and is probably getting more and more worried with every passing second.
'I'm staying', Grace types into her phone. 'I promised Danno I'd be here when he wakes up.'
It's hopeful. More hopeful than Grace wants to allow herself to be. But this isn't for herself. It's for mom and she thinks her mom needs to hear something like this right now.
Danno will wake up. He will be fine. It's okay, mom. You can go to bed and get some rest.
She wants to type all those things, too. But that would make her the patronizing one and she hates when people do that with her. So instead she types 'I'll call when there's news.' And 'I love you', before she hits send, wondering if she can be hopeful for and with her mom and still not get hurt too badly when the doctor comes out to tell them that something's gone wrong.
“Grace?”
A hand touches her shoulder from behind.
She turns and finds Uncle Chin looking at her, his expression concerned. He attempts a smile, making the skin around his eyes crinkle. “Hey,” he says gently. “You hanging in there?”
Grace nods her head, tries to smile back at him. It makes her face feel funny, though. As if the skin there has become too tight. She holds up her phone for him to see over her chair's backrest. “My mom,” she simply offers as explanation.
Chin hums his understanding.
“You know,” he says after a beat, “it's getting late and I don't think you've eaten anything yet.”
Grace shakes her head at the suggestion. “I'm not hungry,” she tells him with a sigh.
“Chin's right, you know,” Kono says from a couple chairs over. “You really should eat something.” The tone of her voice is soft and caring, the forced smile on her lips encouraging.
Grace bites down on her tongue, stopping herself from telling them not to treat her like this. Like a child.
She knows they mean well. The reminder to eat, the false smiles, the pretend lightness in their words, they're all just expressions of care, of concern and love, attempts at shielding and protecting her, the kid in the room, from the reality and gravity of the situation.
But it's hard, suffocating. Because they all still see her as this little kid. And that's just not who Grace is anymore, it's not a role she can really identify with. At least not here, not now. Maybe she will be able to tomorrow, for a little while, when Danno's awake, when he pulls her into a hug and kisses her forehead. Maybe then she'll feel like little Gracie again. Small and fragile.
But not tonight. Not while Danno's in surgery, not while there's a chance that he or Uncle Steve might not wake up. Not when she has to be strong for mom and Charlie.
Chin and Kono are still looking at her like they don't get that, they don't understand and all it does right now is make Grace want to scream at them. Scream and cry and hit something as hard as she can because she's not hungry, damnit.
“You're right,” she forces out and then stands up, the movement abrupt and awkward. There's this sudden urge to get away from them, from everyone in here before that anger inside her breaks free. No one in here deserves it.
“I'll go get something at the machine,” she adds, her breath stuck oddly inside her chest. She's unable to make herself smile this time.
“Want some company?” Kono asks easily, like Grace's not acting weird at all.
Her voice is too concerned, it almost makes Grace yell back at Kono to just leave her the hell alone.
“I'm fine,” Grace tells her instead with a quick, determined nod and then hurries away, barely managing not to trip over her own two feet.
She's turned two corners before she's able to take in a breath that feels like it actually reaches her lungs. Her hands are shaking, her heart is pounding inside her chest. She feels exhausted but keeps walking, rounds another corner… and then all but stumbles to a stop when she suddenly sees Nahele.
Her first reaction is to run and leave, take another turn, walk down a different corridor. She just wants to get away from everyone for a little while, just be alone and try to figure out a way to get through the night.
But she stops, can't really bring herself to look away from where he's sitting on the floor, with his back pressed against the wall, knees drawn up, forearms resting on top of them, eyes staring blankly at his hands. There's just something about the way Nahele holds himself, the way he seems to barely breathe that makes her not want to leave him alone.
Without really thinking about it, Grace walks a couple steps closer to him, then stops a few feet away, taking a moment to give him a chance to register and acknowledge her presence. He doesn't react, though, and it makes her wonder if maybe he came here to be alone for a little while, too.
Grace inhales a deep breath and then blows it out slowly. Because whatever this is, whatever he's doing here, on the floor, away from everyone else — it probably isn't a good thing.
“Hey,” she says carefully. But there's still no reaction from him, just more staring at nothing.
Closing the rest of the distance between them, she turns, presses her own back against the wall and slides down to sit on the cold linoleum floor with her legs crossed.
Next to her, Nahele frowns, then blinks his eyes and turns his head to look at her. He stares at her for a really long moment with an odd, unreadable expression.
He's probably thinking that she's being weird. They don't really know each other that well after all, have never really talked between just the two of them… even though they've known each other for well over a year now.
It seems like forever ago — that day when she and Steve had been out training for the one mile run for the President's fitness medal and Nahele had stolen Steve's car.
He had been living in the streets after his mom had died and his dad gone to prison. He'd been all alone, with no money or food. Stealing Steve's car had been a way for him to try and survive.
It was probably the stupidest and best thing he could have ever done.
Nahele's somehow stuck around after that.
He'd suddenly been there one day, working at Kamekona's shrimp truck. It had been the day Grace had won the medal. She still remembers that day like it was yesterday. Because it was on the way home when Danno had told her about Nahele, that he was the one who had stolen Uncle Steve's car. Grace still remembers, because when she'd asked Danno why Nahele wasn't in prison for what he'd done, Danno had rolled his eyes and had said, “because your Uncle Steve is a big, gigantic half-baked cookie.”
Grace remembers so clearly because she had laughed at that comment, loud and giggly. And even today she isn't sure, but it was probably not because of what Danno had said about Steve but because of that big, fond grin on his face, because of how good it had felt to see him smile like that again.
He hadn't done that in a while after they had found out about Uncle Matt.
Breathing out a sigh, Grace rests her head against the wall behind her. That day feels like distant memory now. So much has happened since then, since she's met Nahele for the first time. And yet, she barely even knows him, has never realized how much Steve must mean to him and how much he probably means to Steve, too.
It almost makes her feel guilty, how she's just… overlooked him all this time. She's noticed him around, smiles at him and thanks him when he brings their food at Kamekona's truck but — she's never realized that he's, what? Becoming a part of their ohana?
She hadn't missed him in the waiting room earlier, would have never expected him to stay the night and wait for news anyway. Not because she doesn't feel like Nahele cares about Steve, it's just that she's never really thought about the connection between the two of them.
They've become… something, formed some kind of a bond that, given how scared Nahele looks right now, may be close to what she has with her dad. And if that's true, if Steve has become something like a Danno for Nahele, then Grace knows exactly how he feels right now.
She knows that this is the worst part of it all. Being so scared and all you can do is sit around and wait. The helplessness, the inability to do anything to make it better, to save him.
There was nothing she could have done when Charlie had been sick and there is nothing she can do now. There's nothing Nahele can do.
Grace wants him know that he's not alone with that feeling. That she knows, that she feels the same, that she's scared and helpless, too. Even though it won't help, won't make it better or easier for either of them. She still wants him to know.
“Charlie,” she hears herself saying. “My brother, he had to get a bone marrow transplant a little while ago. He— he was really sick.” Her throat suddenly closes up a little at the memories of just how scared she'd been back then. “He could have died without it,” she adds quietly.
Grace pauses then and looks over to Nahele. He is once again staring at nothing, his hands now balled to tight fists.
“I was really scared when my mom told me he was sick,” Grace continues. “Usually, a sibling is the best match for a transplant. But I wasn't. I just— I wanted to help, save him but there was nothing I could do. But he's better now. My dad, he gave him some of his bone marrow and it saved his life.”
Suddenly, Nahele's gaze shifts over to her, his eyes focus on some part of her face, maybe her mouth. It's like he doesn't want to meet her eyes. His lips are parted slightly, like he wants to say something but can't figure out what. He remains silent, his brows crease as in confusion or concentration, Grace can't tell.
She offers him a sad smile, tries to catch his eye. “And now my dad's giving a part of his liver to Steve so… I think he will be fine, too.”
It sounds a bit childish, far too naive and so much more hopeful than she wants to allow herself to be. Just because the bone marrow transplant worked doesn't mean a part of Danno's liver can save Steve as well. But it's all she can give Nahele right now. And he's new to this, doesn't really get it yet, what it really means to care about someone with a job as dangerous as Danno's and Steve's.
Maybe it's okay to be hopeful, to make it a little easier on Nahele. Just this once.
“Don't get me wrong, though,” she adds and Nahele bites down on his bottom lip, his frown darkening. “I'm not saying that— I— It's okay to be scared. I'm scared,” she says. “I'm scared for my dad because he's in surgery and I'm afraid something could go wrong. And I'm scared for Steve because he's been hurt really bad and even though— There's always a chance that a transplant doesn't work. There was a chance that the bone marrow transplant for my brother wouldn't work but— but it did. And Charlie's a lot better now.”
Nahele turns his head away as she rambles on. He averts his gaze down to his lap and then huffs out some air through his nose. It almost sounds like a sarcastic snort and makes Grace wonder if she's said something wrong or stupid.
“Must be nice,” Nahele mumbles then, his voice so low Grace barely hears him.
“I—” she starts but then frowns, not sure what to make of that. “What do you mean?”
“People not dying on you.” Nahele shrugs listlessly. “Must be nice.”
He drops his head back against the wall and stares at the ceiling of the hallway. “The last time someone I cared about was in a hospital—” He stops there and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment.
Grace can't look at him any longer, it's somehow… painful. Her eyes find the floor.
“She never came back home,” he adds quietly after a moment, his voice thick with sadness.
Pulling her knees up, Grace hugs them tightly to her body. It's instinctive, a way to protect herself from his heartache, maybe. “Your mom?” she asks, making herself carefully look back up at him.
“She was sick, too. Like your brother. But there was nothing—” Nahele rolls his head to the side to look at her. His eyes are sharp, focussed, but shining brightly with unshed tears. Grace almost flinches back at the desperate intensity in them. “I would have given her my liver or my bone marrow or whatever but—”
He doesn't manage to finish the sentence, choking on the last, horrible bit of it.
“I'm so sorry,” Grace offers helplessly. She's always known how lucky they'd been that there had been a cure available for Charlie's illness. But the reality of the alternative staring back at her right now is almost unbearable. A glimpse of the infinite sadness that could have been her own.
Nahele still looks at her, still intent, but then his eyes lose all of their focus, his gaze dulls, like a light fading out. “It's like… it's like everyone I care about dies,” he mutters flatly. “There was nothing I could do to help Makai either. Or maybe there was.” He shrugs, a small, helpless gesture. A confused frown creases his brows. “I don't know— Maybe… I don't—”
“Who's Makai?” Grace asks when Nahele breaks off with a choking, hitching breath that sounds like it hurts coming out.
He blinks his eyes, looks at her again. “A friend, from school,” he says, his voice still hollow.
“What happened?”
“I found him passed out after football practice. He— he took some drugs and— and he just died,” Nahele tells her, almost slurring his words. He frowns hard, then hangs his head and stares at nothing again. “And— and my father died a few weeks ago and now— now Steve's gonna die, too.”
“Steve's not gonna die,” Grace blurts out, startled a little by the vehemence in her own voice.
Nahele's shoulders start shaking, like he's laughing. “You don't know that.”
“No, I don't,” she admits. Because Nahele is right. Just because— just because it isn't fair or because she really doesn't want Steve to die— it doesn't mean he's going to be okay. It doesn't mean anything. It's not for her or Nahele or anyone else to decide. Sometimes people just die and there's nothing anyone could do to save them.
Like even Danno hadn't been able to save Matt.
His death had been hard on Danno. He'd tried to hide it from Grace but she could tell anyway. And now she can only imagine how Nahele must feel having lost so many important people in his life.
“But Steve's not there yet,” Grace says. “He can't die.” Because it had been Steve who had made Danno smile and talk about half-baked cookies after Matt's death and even though it was a long time ago, Danno still needs Steve so much.
Screw not being hopeful because Steve can't die. Because Danno's not gonna die and he'll need Steve. And Nahele needs Steve. No one can die tonight.
“The doctors are trying and Danno's trying and— you can't just give up. Not yet,” she adds stubbornly.
Nahele is quiet next to her. She can feel his gaze on her body as she angrily wipes at her prickling eyes. He probably thinks she's being stupid and naive, all the things she's been trying not to be, because she knows better, she does, but she can't anymore. She just wants everyone to be okay.
“I wish there was something I could do,” Nahele says.
Grace nods, sniffing her nose. It's all stuffy again. “I know,” she whispers and wonders how it can still be so hard on her sometimes, this feeling of helplessness. In a way it's there every day. Shouldn't she be used to it by now? Just maybe a tiny little bit?
“Sometimes I hate that my dad's a cop,” she adds and turns her head to look at Nahele. He's frowning back at her.
“I mean, something bad could happen to him every day,” Grace explains. “Most days, I try not to think about it too much or I keep telling myself that his friends are with him and that they're all looking out for each other. But sometimes it's hard. Sometimes—” She pauses, presses her lips together to stop them from trembling. She takes in a few deep breath before she continues.
“I've never told this anyone, but sometimes I get scared for no real reason, you know. When someone comes into the room in the middle of a class— My first thought— I always think they're coming to tell me that something's happened to my dad.”
“Does he know?” Nahele asks quietly after a beat.
Grace shakes her head. “No,” she says but then huffs out a breath. “I don't know.” She shrugs her shoulders, shakes her head again. “I think, in a way, he probably knows.” Of course, Danno knows. “But we don't talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because what he does is important and he loves his job and I don't want him to quit because of me,” she blurts out. Then she pauses and smiles, because he would. There's nothing Danno wouldn't do for her and if she would ever ask him to, he would quit his job for her. But she would never ask. She would never tell him about any of this. It was like a silent agreement between the two of them.
“He doesn't tell me everything either,” she tells Nahele, trying to explain this weird pact between her and her father. “The bad stuff, he keeps that from me and Charlie. I used to get angry at him for that but he's just doing it to protect us. And that's what I'm doing. Not really to protect him but— to make it easier for him, I guess.”
“Hm.”
Frowning at the sound, Grace looks up at Nahele. “What?”
“Well, what about this?” he asks, gesturing at their surroundings. “What your dad's doing now? I mean, it's not really the same but— Giving away part of your liver, the surgery and everything— You said you're scared for him. Didn't you want him to not do this?”
Nahele's looking at her curiously yet apprehensively. The expression makes it easy to read between the lines. The real question he wants to ask is whether Grace resents Steve for putting Danno's life in danger.
She smiles softly, thinking that there's a lot Nahele still has to learn about the family he's somehow becoming a part of. “I don't think even I could have talked him out of doing this,” she says and adds, “and I wouldn't have wanted to,” just to make sure. “Danno and Uncle Steve, they need each other. Danno needed to help him.”
As she says that, Grace suddenly thinks how unfair it is that Danno gets to do something, that he gets to help Steve when all Nahele gets to do is wait and hope.
Nahele makes a funny, confused face, pulling her focus from the thought. “They fight all the time,” he points out.
Grace feels the waning smile on her face grow bigger at the comment. “I know,” she says with a laugh.
Nahele shakes his head. “I don't get it.”
Grace rolls her eyes fondly. “No one really does.”
Nahele still looks confused. “Well, anyway,” he says, “I'm really grateful for what your dad's doing. I mean, I—” he stops, huffs out a breath. “I know it's not the same. I, I just—”
“What's not the same?” Grace asks, not able to follow his train of thought.
“I mean, Dan— Detective Wi— your dad,” he finally settles on. “He's— he's your dad, you know. And I'm not— it's not like Steve's my dad or anything like that. It's just…” He stops again. Pressing his lips to a thin line, he swallows thickly before he continues. “He's kind of the closest thing I got. The closest thing I've ever had.”
Oh.
For a moment Grace wonders if that's a good thing. Maybe Nahele's father's death isn't so hard on him if they hadn't been close. It's probably a stupid thought.
“You didn't have a good relationship with your dad?” she still asks.
Nahele sighs. “He wasn't around much when I was little,” he tells her with a dismissive shrug. “He was in prison a couple of times. And when he was around he— I guess he just wasn't really interested in me. I mean, no matter what I did, mess up or do something good… he just always was kind of indifferent.”
Grace can't even picture that. Her parents are so different, sometimes even making her wish they'd care just a little bit less.
“You know I stole his car, right? Steve's Marquis?” Nahele suddenly asks.
Grace snorts. “I was there.”
“You were?” Nahele gapes at her.
“I saw you drive away and…” She laughs as she remembers the expression on Steve's face. “I was already feeling sorry for you.”
Nahele rolls his eyes a little. There's a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We put it back together,” he says after a beat, then clarifies, “the car.”
Grace hums, waits for him to continue.
“I sold some parts and— I guess it was supposed to be a punishment, or a lesson, you know. And I kept wondering, why is he doing this? He could have just charged me with the theft of his car and be done with it. With me,” he amends.
“Instead, he got me into a good group home, got me a job and even talked to some of my teachers. I asked him why after we finished the car. Because I was thinking, this is it. Done with the car and—”
Done with me. He doesn't say it this time.
“But he just asked if I wanted to meet the next weekend for some football practice and I just— I didn't get it. I still don't.” Nahele's shaking his head, as if to underline his confusion about why Steve cares about him in the first place.
“Steve said he had someone look out for him when his dad couldn't and that he was just doing the same. But I still don't get why me, you know. Why me?”
Grace wants to counter, 'why not you?'
“Maybe it was just your turn to have a bit of good luck,” she says instead.
“That what this is?” Nahele asks, his voice suddenly flat and heavy again. “Good luck?” He sounds angry now, too. Frustrated and sad. “This doesn't feel like good luck, this feels—”
He breaks off, doesn't need to finish the sentence for Grace to understand that this must feel like some kind of a cruel joke to him. To have something good in his life, finally, only to have it ripped away again.
“I really don't want him to die,” Nahele whispers. “I— I don't know what I'd do. I've been sitting in there and all I could think was, what's gonna happen to me if he— if he doesn't make it?” He turns to look at Grace with big, questioning eyes. “How selfish is that?”
Grace doesn't have an answer because she's been asking herself that same question too many times. “Is that why you're sitting here all alone?” she asks instead.
Nahele rolls his eyes, looks away. “I don't belong in there with the rest of you. Everyone's so worried about Steve and your dad and I'm just— I'm just scared I'm gonna end up alone again.”
“You're not. They all care about you,” Grace tells him, nodding her head in the direction of the waiting room.
Nahele scoffs at that, a small sound coming from somewhere at the back of his throat that is loud and clear in its disagreement. And Grace thinks that maybe he's not so wrong. They all care, she knows that. But how much, really? That's something she can't be sure of. Because Nahele, he's at the hospital right now, but somehow not in there, in the waiting room with the rest of them. He's there at the shrimp truck, but not sitting at their table. He's bringing the food and then disappears. He's around but never quite with them. He's always just kind of orbiting around them, like a moon or a satellite. Where's the proof that anyone besides Steve cares?
“I care,” she tells him with as much determination as she can put into those two small words. It's an easy decision to make. Whatever happens, Grace promises herself and Nahele in that moment that he's not gonna end up alone again, not when they got so many wonderful people in their lives who do care… maybe they just haven't realized it yet.
Nahele shakes his head, rolls his eyes at her. Grace suddenly notices how tall he's next to her and it makes her feel like a stupid little girl. Because it's not that simple. She can't just tell him she cares and think he'll believe her. Not after everything he's been through.
“You don't even know me,” he says. His voice sounds unaffected, almost cold. Still, Grace can hear the sadness wrapped up inside.
It's been over a year. A year of saying 'hi' and 'thanks' and not much else. He's not wrong.
“I know you a lot better now than I knew you an hour ago,” she offers, hoping it's not too little too late.
Nahele tilts his head to the side, looking down at her. “And that makes you care?” he asks wearily. He's frowning, though, like he's genuinely wondering if that's how it works. If getting to know him just a little is really all it takes for someone to care about him.
She wants to say yes, but there's something in his eyes that makes her hold it back. A flicker of distrust or skepticism maybe. Grace is not quite sure.
“It makes me not indifferent,” she says carefully.
It takes a moment, but whatever it was in Nahele's eyes, it's suddenly gone when he blinks. He smiles then, small and barely there, but it's enough to tell Grace that he believes her. Or at least he's trying to. He knows she's not just saying it to make him feel better.
They break eye contact after a beat, Nahele drops his head back against the wall and heaves a deep sigh.
“I'm glad your brother's okay,” he says.
Before Grace can think of a response – or even figure out what exactly he means by that, how it fits into the context of their conversation – the shadow of another person walking into their hallway falls over them.
“Here you kids are,” Lou exclaims, a little too loudly in the deserted hospital corridor in the middle of the night. “We've been lookin' all over for you. What are you doing sitting around on the floor?”
“We were just talking,” Grace says with a sheepish smile, wondering just how long she's been gone.
“Come on, get back in there,” Lou says, jerking his head in the direction of the waiting area. “One of Chin and Kono's uncles or cousins or whatever the hell the guy is to them just showed up with some food, good food, not the crap they're selling in the machines here. You kids gotta eat something. Come on.”
He stands there, with his hands on his hips and an expectant expression on his face.
Grace looks over to Nahele. “You hungry?” she asks.
Nahele nods, a little hesitant at first but the gesture quickly turns enthusiastic. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
Grace smiles at him brightly. “Good. Me too.”
The End