I don’t want you to be unhappy. I couldn’t be, John Brooke is my husband and I am his wife.
nothing weve posted are even firecrackers compared to this fucking atomic bomb of a post
More you might like
If I ever end up letting the person I like follow me here, that’s how you know I’m actually too far gone
I just think if we keep our hearts together
I just think if we will build on this trust that we have for one another
Maybe we can make this last a lifetime
Anonymous asked:
A trembling hand M/M
ladonnaingenua answered:
A/N: So out of practice but I am just closing my eyes and pressing post. It’s fascinating starting the show from the beginning again. But go ahead and send me your prompts. Thanks for letting me practice a little on you to get back into the swing of things.
She wakes with a hum of pleasure in her throat, her eyes still closed, her legs stretching, feet curling, toes pointed. Those very toes brush against his calf. She feels like an indolent cat, moving against the sheets slowly, testing each muscle. Her toes wiggle as if to say hello, good morning. Matthew lets out a quiet groan, muffled by the pillow. When she risks the sunlight to lift her heavy lids and peek at him, it appears as if he fell, collapsed, face first into the feather bed and stayed their, limbs akimbo.
Oh, Matthew.
It’s still new–not the easy affection curling in her stomach–but the freedom in that easiness. She is not only allowed to want to lean over and brush the thick hair at the nape of his neck with her fingertips or find his skin in the dark but to actually do it. She smiles and she recognizes she is being rather smug but if she isn’t allowed to feel smug now, after everything, then when?
And all of this at once, her toes against his calf, her smug smile, the way the sheet slips down Matthew’s naked back as he turns towards her collides together until the joy is so piercing it’s like looking directly at the sun. Only a few weeks ago, walking down the aisle towards him, she would not have been able to believe she could be happier than she was in that moment.
“You’re thinking much too loudly,” he announces, his voice appealingly rough with sleep.
“Only of how much I love you,” she replies, pushing the messy blond hair away from his face. He smiles against her palm, eyes still closed.
“Well, that’s fine then,” he sighs and reaches for her, fingertips brushing her hip, his hand finding the small of her back so he can pull her towards him. “But it is very early. And I was awake very late.” He opens his eyes to blink at her innocently.
“But why?” She raises an eyebrow. Her responds with a grin. Their legs twine together; her breasts brush against his chest; a hum begins in the back of her throat.
His lips touch her throat, the hollow just there at her collarbone, teeth grazing along so that she shivers and presses herself completely against him. “I can’t say.” She feels his smile against her skin. “Maybe I can show you.”
“Oh?” His thumb finds her nipple as his mouth moves lower to follow it. “Well, if you must.”
“We’re rather lucky you’re naked this time,” he whispers as he takes her nipple in his mouth in lushly lavish, wet kiss.
She moans. Or he does. Or they both do. It’s hard to tell just now. Still, it’s a game they’ve made up recently, childish really, but she can hardly surrender now. “You mean my corset is lucky.” His fingers trace down the small of her back; his hands cup. She holds on to him by his hair as he rolls her over, settling between her thighs, continuing to playing homage to first one breast and then the other. “What will we tell Anna? I assured her I didn’t need her and then you couldn’t get me out of that thing. It’s destroyed. I would have thought…” He begins to use his teeth in such a delicate way that her body nearly bends like a bow arching into him.
“Yes?” His tongue dips into the valley just above her belly button.
She clears her throat. “I was only saying…I would have thought you were more industrious than that.”
“I got it off of you, didn’t I?” And his grin is wicked when he looks up at her. She is breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, legs shifting slightly in impatience. “It would have been a lot easier if my hands would have stopped shaking.”
He is right. Last night, she’d been telling herself she was ridiculous because she was desperate to be alone with him. She hand’t known that he shared in that desperation until his hand touched her arm. She can still feel them trembling against her skin, not with nerves, but with an intensity and urgency unknown to either of them. Even as they retired for the night and stood to leave, everyone gathered to celebrate their return from their honeymoon, his hand at the small of her back shivered with energy. After ascending the stairs, she found herself pushed against a door that wasn’t theirs as he bit his lip and rubbed himself against her and she struggled in her dress to lift her leg over his hip, her breath hitching. “Don’t stop,” she begged him then.
“I won’t.” Somehow they stumbled to their room. “It’s been a day and half since I’ve had you.”
“You mean,” and this time she bit his lip and he gasped as she kissed it better, “it’s been a day and a half since I’ve had you.”
So they trembled together for a long time.
The morning sun practically bounces off his blond hair. “I don’t know how well this will work, us living with your parents.” He rises to kiss her lips finally and sinks into her without meaning to. “Good morning,” he whispers, grinning foolishly but it doesn’t matter because she is grinning just as foolishly back.
“Indeed,” she hums, her brow winging up. “It seemed practical enough when we discussed it before.”
“Yes, but now I’ve had you.” His hand slips to the nape of her neck as he kisses her, her lip pulled into his mouth to nibble on before it is soothed by his tongue. Her legs wrap around his waist, her arms around his neck.
“And now I’ve had you.”
“We must reconsider.”
She groans. “We must.”
When he slides into her, he breathes her name. “Mary.” She looks into his eyes, even as her hips rise to meet his, inhaling sharply. He groans this time. “You’re trembling.”
“That’s you,” she insists.
It’s both of them.
Where The Lovelight Gleams
Hey, I’m your Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy your gift, and have a very merry Christmas!!! :D
Christmas Eve, 1917
“Mary, you should go to bed.” Her father’s voice was sympathetic, but firm. “It’s late and if I know anything about being a parent, your daughter won’t let you sleep in at all tomorrow.”
She was curled up on the window seat in the library, staring at the falling snow. “Then I’ll tell the nanny not to let Violet come into my room.” Her eyes didn’t move, they were trained on the white flakes as they fell onto the frozen ground. “I just… I can’t face Christmas without him; knowing he’s probably gone.”
Her father moved closer to her and put a hand on her shaking shoulder. “Mary, we don’t know…”
“I know!” she shouted, pulling away from him. “I know, nothing is confirmed. But he hasn’t been heard from or seen in three weeks, not by anyone. That wouldn’t be like him. It’s more likely they just can’t…” she paused as she could barely choke out the words, “find him.”
“Mary, you can’t lose hope. Especially for Violet’s sake. Does she know anything?”
Mary shook her head and pressed her face against the window. “She’s not old enough to understand. I don’t want to tell her anything until we know for sure. But she knows something is wrong; the other day she asked why everyone was so sad.”
“I wish I could do something to help,” Robert said.
“It’s just waiting now. And knowing I can’t hope or else my heart will be even more broken. Sometimes I wish I’d never let myself love, because it hurts. But I loved him, I really did.”
Robert rubbed Mary’s shoulder. “You love him. Let’s think in the present tense.”
August 1914
Mary ran across the field; actually running, a shock if there ever was one. She was smiling, too, and it seemed as if a huge weight was lifted off her chest. Matthew followed her, trying to not look too excited, but grinning from ear to ear. “Papa!” Mary said, stopping just in front of her father who was staring at a telegram. “Papa, Matthew and I…”
Robert looked up at them, his face pale. “Can it wait?”
“Not really but…” Mary fully took in her father’s ashen face. “What’s wrong?”
He silently held out the telegram. “We’re at war.”
Mary immediately clasped Matthew’s hands. “I…” She had no idea what to say, so she held onto his hands.
“We all knew it could happen, but now… it’s real…” Robert whispered. “And I have to tell them all. But before I do, what was your news?”
“Well, um…” Matthew began, but he could not manage to say the words.
“We’re engaged,” Mary finished. “Unfortunately, our good news is to be a little overshadowed.”
Robert kissed his daughter on the head and shook Matthew’s hands. “I wish I could simply rejoice about this, free of any worries. But nevertheless, congratulations.” He hurried away to announce the war to the rest of the party.
Mary took Matthew’s hand in hers again and looked up at him. “What are we going to do?”
“I’m going to have to go. I might be able to put it off for a few months, but no longer. It would be wrong for me not to fight, when I’m healthy and completely able to fight. I can’t just …stay out of it.”
Damn you for being so honorable, Mary thought. But she nodded and tried to smile at him. “I won’t fight you on that, because that is one fight I know I’ll lose. I guess we’ll have to plan the wedding rather quickly then.”
“Mary, I don’t want to possibly make you a widow just a few months after we marry. It wouldn’t be fair to you. I don’t want you tied down…”
Mary wasn’t quite as tall as him, but her stance made her seem awfully close. She stood dead on in front of him and firmly said, “No. I am marrying you before you go. You asked me to marry you, don’t tell me you’re backing out now.”
In spite of the pit deep in his stomach, partially from fear and partially from regret, Matthew laughed. “I suppose we better start planning then.”
“Yes, we better,” she replied, stepping back next to him and leaning her head on her shoulder. “We’ll make it through this.”
“I love you,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head.
“Careful, they don’t know we’re engaged yet,” Mary said.
December 1914
“I’m so glad you could come home for Christmas,” Mary said, her arm in Matthew’s as they walked through the hall. They had married just a week before he had to go off to officer training and they hadn’t seen each other since.
“I just wish I could stay longer,” Matthew said. “I feel like I’ve been a pretty terrible husband, what with leaving you a week after our wedding and all…”
Mary shook her head. “No, none of this was your intention, and I’m so happy to be married to you, even if I don’t get to see you nearly as much as I might like. Besides, you did give us something already.”
“What?”
“I’m pregnant,” Mary whispered. “Two months along.”
“What? How?” Matthew sputtered. A huge smile appeared on his face. “I’m thrilled, of course. So very thrilled! But… how?”
Mary smirked. “I think you can remember how.”
“I can’t believe this,” Matthew said, bending down to kiss his wife. “I’m going to miss it all, or most of it anyway.”
“You’ll miss the unpleasantness. And then you’ll come home in seven months to a precious, clean little baby. Who will be yours and mine.”
He shook his head. “I’m still a bit in shock. But so happy. I love you, my darling.”
Christmas 1915
Matthew was lucky enough to get to come home for Christmas; the first time he had leave since he left for France.
Mary greeted him at the train station, their six-month-old daughter nestled in her arms. “Matthew!” she shouted, when she saw him, holding the baby close to her and moving toward him.
He ran toward her, barely noticing the people around him. “Mary!” he shouted back. Just before he touched her, he stopped short. “This is… our daughter?”
“No, she’s the daughter of the footman,” Mary snarked. When she saw his face, she laughed and touched his arm gently. “Of course she’s our daughter.”
“Violet Isobel,” he whispered, taking the girl into his arms. “She’s just… beautiful. My God, Mary. I’ve missed you. And is it possible to miss someone you don’t know? Because I missed Violet too.”
Mary shrugged. “I suppose it’s entirely possible. But you’re here now, and I think Violet is very happy to see you.”
Matthew glanced down at the little baby in his arms. “Well, I’m very happy to see her too.”
Their time together, just a week, was all too short, but Matthew spent all the time he could with his wife and his little daughter. And that, that time was enough.
December 1917
“He hasn’t written in two weeks,” Mary murmured, pacing up and down the library. “His letters come at least twice a week; I should have gotten four by now!”
Robert sighed and leaned back against the couch. “I don’t know what to tell you, Mary. There’s many things that could have happened. Whatever was carrying the mail could have been intercepted, he might not have been able to get his hands on paper, he might not have gotten your last letters and wanted to wait to write a response, he could…”
“He could have been taken prisoner, he could be dead…” Mary said coldly. “Really, Papa, I know what’s at risk here.”
“Jumping to conclusions is not going to help.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Well, what will help then? Am I just supposed to pretend I’m not absolutely terrified right now that my husband might be missing or dead? I’m supposed to carry on and forget that there’s a war raging on out there, and my husband, the father of my daughter, is in the midst of it?”
Cora held out a hand. “Mary, don’t bite our heads off.”
“Why? Because you just want to help?” Mary snapped. She whirled around and faced the window, unable to look at either of her parents. “I’m sorry, it’s just… It’s the not knowing that’s the hardest for me. That’s what I can’t deal with.”
Robert stood and put his arm around his daughter. “Please, don’t let yourself worry too much yet. I’ll call the war office and see what they can tell us. If there’s any explanation, they can tell us.”
Mary pulled all the strength she had left in her and nodded silently. “Let’s do it.”
Calling the war office, unfortunately, made nothing better.
Mary listened to the voice on the other end rattling something off about field dressing stations and patrols and…
Matthew hadn’t been seen for two weeks.
Her stomach drops and she can barely hold onto the phone in her sweaty fingers. “You’re saying he’s missing,” she whispered, her voice cracking on every other word because she cannot comprehend this.
The voice on the other end tried to console her, but it didn’t help. She stood, her back against the wall, willing herself not to collapse and cry as she tried to take in the news.
“There’s a very good chance he’s still alive,” the voice said. “Things like this happen all the time.”
But what if he’s not alive, was the resounding thought in Mary’s head, and her heart pounded as she tried to comprehend it. Of course, his death had been a possibility, a fear hiding in the back of her mind, but now it was almost a reality; she couldn’t ignore this anymore
She finally gave into her urges and sank down onto the floor, collapsing into a ball and letting sob sobs out.
The next few days were awful; Mary didn’t sleep, she didn’t eat, she only managed to smile in order to put on a good front for Violet, who could sense that something was up.
The Christmas season no longer held its allure as Mary could not comprehend celebrating when her husband might be dead. All her responsibilities fell to the wayside and she sat at the window for long hours, just thinking, worrying, waiting for news.
There was no news. By Christmas Eve, she knew nothing new.
Christmas Eve 1917
Robert looked sadly at his practically catatonic daughter, and offered his arm to his daughter. “Come on darling, it’s time for you to go to bed.”
Mary felt like a little girl again, and she tried to blink back tears. Ever since she had found out that Matthew was missing, she hadn’t cried, and suddenly it seemed as if all these tears that had not been shed were ready to fall.
They were nearly to the door of the library when a loud, high voice rang out through the hall outside.
“Papa?” the voice called, unsure but thrilled. The voice was followed by rapid footsteps.
Mary’s heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t be.
Robert, too, didn’t breathe. For a second, everything was at a standstill. Neither of them could open the door, they couldn’t bear to hope.
Finally, Robert managed to reach out and open the door.
Mary took small, unsure steps outside of the library, barely able to breathe. Her heart was constricting tightly, and she felt as if she might faint. What if she was wrong? What if this disappointment just led to more heartbreak.
She was about to turn around, to decide that she’s couldn’t bear to see, when she saw him.
He was standing tall, in his soldier’s uniform, thinner than she remembered by just as handsome. And he was holding Violet in his arms and ravishing her with kisses.
He was alive.
She stopped short. What if he wasn’t real? What if this pleasant dream was about to become a horrific nightmare?
But then he saw her, and he gently put Violet down and rushed toward her, stopping right in front of her.
She didn’t know what to say or what to do… She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to slap him or kiss him or just touch him to make sure that he was completely real and that this wasn’t a hallucination.
“Matthew…” she managed to whisper, and then quite unintentionally, she fell in to his arms. What else could she do, after that, but kiss him? Kiss his real, completely flesh and blood face. After kissing him for what could have been seconds or an eternity, she stepped back and looked him over. “I hate you for putting me through that.”
Matthew’s brow worked itself into something puzzled. “Through what?”
“I thought you were dead. They said you were missing, that you hadn’t been seen in weeks, and I assumed the worst and these have been the most painful days of my life and I’m so glad you’re alive but I could kill you for making me go through that horrible waiting and anxiety,” she said, her words coming out in a stream of everything and nothing. “I would slap you for that but there’s nothing I want to do more than kiss you right now.”
“Then do it,” Matthew said, lifting an eyebrow.
Mary complied.
It took them a while to finally get to bed that night; they sat on the couch for hours, holding hands and simply reveling in the fact that they were together, despite the odds.
“Did you really think I was dead?” Matthew asked, staring straight ahead.
“The war office said you were missing. It was a bit irrational of me, but I took that to mean that you were dead, because I couldn’t handle the not knowing. What happened to you?”
“Well, I went out on a patrol, and some Germans got behind me and I couldn’t get back to my regiment’s camp. So I tried to go further down the lines until there was a field station that I could get to without running into Germans. Eventually I did, and by that time I was supposed to be on leave. The chaps at the station told me to just go home and they’d send a letter to my regiment explaining what happened. But I suppose that letter never got anywhere. Or at least not quickly enough. Anyway, everything will be cleared up now, I suppose. I’m sorry for worrying you…”
Mary sighed. “You’re here now, so I suppose I can’t complain too much. But never do that to me again.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said, leaning over to kiss her.
Mary grinned as their lips parted. “You know, I never said this. Not out loud, not to you. But I think I should while I know I can. I love you.”
Matthew pulled her closer to him. “I love you too.”
hufflepuffhermione asked:
MM "You deserve so much better"
galindadaae answered:
Well this also turned into a full length one shot! It’s also set in my head canon AU world but you shouldn’t need to know anything about it to comprehend what’s going on. Enjoy!
–
March 16, 1920
As the minutes ticked by, Mary grew more and more nervous. She had longed for this moment for so long, seen it in her dreams, and imagined every possible outcome. Yet while Anna was finishing braiding her hair, Mary felt stuck. In her ethereal white nightdress, she looked the perfect vision of bridal innocence on the night of her wedding.
As Carlisle had said, however, that wasn’t the whole story. Though Matthew had thus far remained true to his word and not resurrected the long-dead Kemal Pamuk, she worried that tonight might break him.
She wondered what he was thinking at that moment. Had Molesley finished with him yet? Was he as nervous as she was? Was he pacing outside her door, not knowing what the protocol was for a husband and wife? Well, at least one of her questions was answered as she heard a soft rapping upon her door.
“Mary? Can I come in?” His voice was light. He was nervous. At least she wasn’t the only one. Mary moved up, smoothed her nightdress, and made her way to the door. Slowly, she opened it. Matthew’s face lit up in surprise to see her opening the door for him and he grinned as his eyes glanced over her fine figure. God, he loved her. He was so damn lucky. So damn lucky that he had come to his senses and asked her to marry him. And now she was his wife! He would know her in every way he once thought impossible.
Realizing he was still standing outside, he moved into the room and swallowed nervously. She was enchanting, and he was, well, a middle-class solicitor who had once been denied all chance at true marital happiness. But he pushed those thoughts aside. Tonight was for them. The first step in making up for all their lost time and stupid mistakes. Mary closed the door and leaned against it (looking far more comfortable than she felt). He held out his hand to her and smiled softly. Her eyes grew soft as well and began to walk over to his waiting embrace.
This was right, both of them thought. As their lips finally met, Mary brought her hands, nearly trembling, to cup her dear husband’s face. How she loved him so! He was so kind, so pure, so perfect. How she ever thought him full of himself and a prig, she’d never know. He was the most humble man she had ever met. He was her guiding light, and the sun to outshine all the darkness. All the darkness that rested inside her. God, she had made so many mistakes. She wondered how after treating him terribly so many times, Matthew would even want to be with her.
Mary deepened their kiss, opening her mouth to his and running her hands along his shoulders. But images of her past assaulted her. Matthew deserved a pure and chaste bride, someone who was as good as him, and someone who treated him much better than she ever had. Someone like Lavinia, her traitorous mind whispered to her.
She broke their kiss and laid down on their bed. Matthew followed, his eyes dark with lust and love. As he leaned down to kiss her, settling his body between her legs, her mind flashed to another man who had been above her in just the same position. And suddenly, she could not hold back her emotions any longer. His lips were about to touch hers once more before her hand covered her mouth to hold in her sobs. Understandably, Matthew was very worried.
“Darling, what is it? Did I lean on your hair? Did I… hurt you?” His blue eyes were clear and vulnerable.
Mary’s sobs continued, but she tried to hold them in as best she could. Oh, how she loved him. “It’s just…you deserve so much better!”
“What do you mean?” Matthew had moved over to sit next to Mary on the left side of the bed, and looked at her with wide eyes. He was in disbelief. It seems Mary was worried as well, and apparently much more worried than him.
“I know we promised never to resurrect him, but Matthew, I just feel like he’s ruined this night. I want to be yours, yours alone.” She took in a shuddering sigh. “And I never can be. I never will be. You deserve better.” Mary quickly wiped her eyes and shrugged helplessly as he stared at her, mouth open in shock.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I refuse to let Kemal Pamuk- “ Mary flinched at his sharp slinging of the name- “ruin the first night of my marriage to the woman I’ve been in love with for eight years now.”
“Matthew, don’t you see- “
“It doesn’t make a bit of difference to me, Mary.” He took her hand in both of his. His voice was sincere. “And the way you described the encounter, it doesn’t sound like he gave you much choice. He told you that you would be ruined no matter whether you let him or he had to- to- force himself…on you.”
“But- “
“We said we would leave him in the past. I’m doing so. I only hope you can too, because I so desperately want to be your husband in every sense of the word. And after six years of waiting, don’t you think it’s time we- “
He was cut off as Mary crashed his lips to hers. It was an awkward kiss, with teeth clashing together, but Mary had never felt so loved as in that moment. Eventually the deep kiss softened, and tongues parted as husband and wife took a breath.
“I love you.” Mary whispered into his ear.
“I love you.” Matthew whispered back, kissing the shell of her ear. “Can I make love to my astoundingly beautiful wife now?” Mary’s eyes lit up and she laughed at his obvious eagerness. She laid back on the bed, bringing her husband with her. Now her eyes were deliciously dark.
“Carry on, darling. I’m yours to
take.”
November 10, 1928
Mary had been unable to fall asleep so far that night. The nightmares were always worst on this day of the year. For several years, Matthew had tried to stay awake all night, knowing that it was better to be dead on his feet the next morning than to relive those four years in the trenches once more.
Now, as the war became more a figment of the past, the dreams had weakened in vividness and intensity, and Matthew had begun to sleep through the night without only one or two nightmares.
Instead, Mary stayed up, reliving losing her husband (well he hadn’t been her husband then) to a war because of her own insecurity, and watching him dance and kiss a woman that wasn’t her. She always worried about him on this night. Even in sleep, his brow was more furrowed, and she had to resist the urge to smooth it out with her thumb. Sometimes touching him was the only way she could truly reassure herself that he was with her and not in France. He was with her and their four children, not fighting the Huns in a bloody trench. He needed his sleep tonight.
Mary had been watching the moonlight change throughout the night when suddenly Matthew cried out in his sleep. He was nearly frantic; a nightmare as bad as this hadn’t happened in a long time.
She stroked his forehead and silently begged him to come back to her as his arms moved wildly. A tear streamed down her cheek as she heard him yell out her name. Eventually, he managed to wake up. His body was covered in sweat. It was a bad one, then.
“Mary?” His voice was like a child’s. It reminded her of their wedding night, when he had softly knocked on the door.
“It’s all right, darling. You’re with me.” She continued to repeat this while resting her head on his chest and her hand on his heart. His breathing finally began to slow to a normal rate.
A few minutes later, they simply laid together, both thinking of different times when they had not belonged to one another.
“You deserve so much better.” The strength at which Matthew suddenly spit out those words frightened Mary.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s been ten years since that bloody war ended, and I still can’t get the images out of my fucking head.” Matthew looked ashamed at his language while Mary didn’t even bat an eyelash. She simply moved a hand up to his forehead to move the lock of hair that always fell into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You, shouldn’t have had to live through it. None of you should have. It was all dreadfully unfair, and truth be told I’m so thankful I didn’t have to go. I just wish you hadn’t gone either.” Matthew didn’t know if he agreed with that. He was a fine soldier, in fact he was Captain Crawley, a respected officer. But the horrors. He had done his part for king and country gladly, but would always be bitter about the conditions that war had subjected him too. He began to watch the moonlight move through the room as well.
Hesitantly, Mary spoke again. “Do you remember our wedding night?”
“Of course.”
“Do you remember what I said to you?” Matthew didn’t respond, but guessed where this was going. “I said that you deserved so much better. And you said to leave the past behind us.”
“Well I’m obviously not doing very well if I still wake up in the middle of the night after ten years like a damn fool.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at her.
“I’m not doing very well either. In fact, I haven’t slept a wink tonight. No, don’t worry, I’ll be fine for tomorrow.” She sighed before continuing. “I guess all I’m saying is that we should try. Try to leave the past behind us. Look forward. Look to George, Eleanor, Mabel, and Lilly. Maybe then we can finally get past those four years of hell.” Her eyes pleaded with him, begging him to understand and agree with her. He didn’t respond. “Okay?”
“Okay.” He softly kissed her lips. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Now let’s get some sleep. We have four children to wrangle to the ceremony bright and early tomorrow morning. We’re going to need all the rest we can get.”
“That we are.”
neil-gaiman
