Perfect by Baine

~Lyric Wheel~ [SMRFF Challenge Submission]
“Perfect”
Chapter 1/1
By Baine
Email: ladybaine@gmail.com
Today is June 7, 2003

~~~~~~~~~~~~
AN at bottom
~~~~~~~~~~~~


---------------------------------
Perfect
By Baine
---------------------------------

Sweat drips down my face. It’s sticky out today. Humid. Once school got out, everyone went home to their cool, air-conditioned houses. They got to go have fun.

Not me, though. The moment I step inside my house, Momma’s always on my case to practice. I mean, it’s not fun when it’s something that you’re forced to do.

I like to do things my own way. Like this. Sitting here on my tire swing and singing my heart out. Not the stuffy songs that Momma makes me sing, but the songs I wanna sing. The fun songs. I don’t have to go into a song-and-dance routine. I can just...be free.

I pump with my legs, bringing myself higher into the air. Strands of golden hair fall out from their binding and into my eyes, clinging to my sweaty forehead. Higher and higher. Up, down, always in constant motion. I feel like I’m flying. This breeze feels so good. Oh, but I could stay like this forever!

I stay out back till the sun goes down and Momma’s car pulls into the driveway. Spotting her headlights, I jump off the swing and run into the house, quickly washing my hands and scrubbing my face at the kitchen sink, then rushing into the living room and sitting down at the piano, where I quickly begin banging out “The Entertainer.”

A minute later and Momma appears in the doorway, eying me warily.

“You’re still not in the proper key when you play that,” she says, placing her purse on the coffee table. “You should spend more time practicing and less time fooling around.”

“I’m been practicing all afternoon, Momma!”

“Really?” She walks over to the piano and places her hands on my shoulders. “Then what’s this?” She pulls at my hair, waving a dandelion in my face.

Shoot. I’d forgotten all about the crown that I made this afternoon. “Well...that...was for practice too, Momma.”

She eyes me skeptically. “How do you figure?”

“Well, I was practicing for the talent show, but I couldn’t get into character, so...I needed to dress up so that I could!” I flash her my sweetest smile.

“So you felt the need to decorate your head rather than your body?”

“Well, my uniform has a skirt, so...”

“Nice try, Mina.” She removes her hands from my shoulders. “Now go wash up and get ready for supper.” She turns on her heel and stalks out of the room.

Drats, she didn’t buy it. Now she’ll make me practice all night! I frown as I slide off the piano bench and head into the bathroom, grimacing at my reflection.

My face is streaked with dirt and my hair is all over the place. I bring my hands to my head, pausing as I see that there’s dirt beneath my nails. I guess I went a little overboard in my rough housing today...but I still beat Adam! I smirk as I remove the last dandelion from my hair.

“Mina! Supper’s ready!”

“Coming!” I nod in satisfaction and hurry into the dining room.

After dinner, Momma makes me go into the basement to make up for all the practice that I missed out on earlier today.

“Louder, Mina! You’re whispering!” She sits in a chair, staring at me in disapproval, then winces. “No, no, not that loud! You’re making your voice break!”

Once she’s satisfied with my singing, we move onto dance, making sure that my every step is perfect.

When she finally decides that I’ve practiced enough for the night, I sink onto the floor and guzzle a bottle of water.

“I don’t know, Mina. Your technique is still sloppy. I’m not sure you’ll be ready for the talent show. You need more practice!” She frowns at me. “You do want to win, don’t you?”

I conceal my scowl, lest she start screaming that I practice my smile. “Of course.”

“I’m expecting great things from you, you know.”

“Yes, Momma.”

“So you’ll come right home and practice tomorrow?”

“Yes, Momma.”

Her face relaxes into a smile. “Okay, good. Make me proud, Mina.”

“I will, Momma.” And I will. More than anything, I want her to be proud of me.

I watch her walk up the steps, leaving me to clean up after myself. I turn and strike a pose, staring thoughtfully into the mirror that faces me. My arm should be a bit higher...no, not that high...there. Now bend it a little to the right...yes, yes, perfect! If Momma wants me to be perfect, then that’s what I’ll be.

I nod resolutely, grabbing my towel off its hanger and wiping the sweat off my face before re-adjusting my hair, gathering my things, and heading back upstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perfect. It’s all that I’ve ever striven to be. I finger a framed picture of myself winning that talent show, a whimsical smile on my face as memories of the past dance through my mind. Back then, I may have resented my mother for forcing me to practice so much, but I had also never understood her reasoning. Without practice, I was just...ordinary. I would never be where I am today without her.

“Five minutes, Mina!”

“Okay!”

I eye myself in the mirror, add one last coat of lipstick to my lips, and walk out of my dressing room towards the stage, where I’m swept up into the world of 19th Century France, no longer Minako Aino, but a poor girl named Eponine.

Each move I make is flawless; every word I sing is enunciated perfectly. I am my character. When it’s time for curtain call and my name is announced, cheers sweep through the theatre and the audience gives me a standing ovation, thrilled with my flawless performance.

I’m not even the play’s main character, yet I own the stage. I’m a star in my own right and my talent is envied by many. Girls want to be me and boys want to date me. I am the figurehead of my town. People come from all over England just to see me perform, generating a surplus of income for the local businesses.

I’ve achieved perfection. I love this feeling. It’s like I’m basking in adoration.

I curtsy and smile, then fall back into line with everyone else.

No one in this rinky-dink theatre gets as much applause as I do.

The curtain falls.

“Good job, everyone! See you all tomorrow! Bernie, what have I told you about your hand gestures?”

“Sorry, Robert. I’ll get it right next time, I promise!”

“I’m holding you to it! Now, Mina...where’s Mina?”

“Right here, Robert.”

“Oh, good.” He hurries over to me, his bald head almost glowing as it reflects the harsh stage lights. “Don’t forget to come in early tomorrow. The Medley Performance begins at noon.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry.”

“Good. By the way, great job out there!”

“Thanks.”

“Now, Marcie, where—Ah, there you are, I need to talk to you about...”

I tune out the chatter that surrounds me, walking back to my dressing room and changing into my street clothes.

A knock on the door.

“Are you ready to go, Mina?”

“Almost.”

My mother walks into the room as though it’s a throne room and she’s the queen. “Well, hurry up.”

I pick up my purse and smile at her. “There, done.”

“Your timing was off today, Mina.”

“Where?”

“In the death sequence. You were too abrupt.”

“That’s the way Robert wants me to be.”

“Robert doesn’t know a thing about choreography.”

“He’s the director, Mother.”

“In name, maybe. It makes your acting shoddy. I’ll talk to him about it.”

“No, I—”

“Are you ready to go?”

“I said that I was.”

“Good.”

And we’re off. Why did I offer to let my mother stay with me this weekend? She doesn’t know how to compliment, only how to critique. I mean, I’m 23 years old. She has no say over what I do anymore.

“So, where do you want to go for supper? The Dune is always nice. They have the best wine...then again, maybe—”

“I just want to go home.”

“But, Mina—”

“I’ll throw something together. It’s fine.”

“But, honey—”

“No, Mother. I need to practice if I want to do my best tomorrow.” I turn to look at her. “There’s no room to play when I’m striving for perfection, right?”

“You’re in a terrible mood today. Now stop being so childish. You’re taking your mother out for a nice dinner and that’s that. You can practice later.”

And again, I am my mother’s pawn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Applause roars throughout the theatre. It doesn’t stop. The audience claps on and on. Surely people passing by outside think there’s a storm in here!

This is why Robert slated me to perform last. He knew I would bring down the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
this theatre
is so run down
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And what a house it is! There isn’t an empty seat to be found. Standing room only. I’m surprised how many people fit in this old theatre.

Then again, the Medley Performance is a big deal. It only comes once a year. All of the proceeds go to benefit charity. Only the theatre’s best performers are involved, singing only the best of songs from the most famous of musicals.

I curtsy once more before walking off-stage.

“Great job, Mina!”

“Thanks, Robert.”

“They’re still clapping for you.”

“I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the grabbing hands
oh the people of this town
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Go back out there. Give them an encore!”

“But—”

“Go, go, an adoring public awaits you!”

“Sing what?”

“Your choice.”

“I dunno...well...um...”

“Hurry up, I need to tell the conductor and...”

“Um, Rent?”

He sighs in exasperation and runs his hands through a tuft of non-existent hair. “Care to enlighten me with the song’s title?”

“‘One Song Glory?’”

“You do realize that’s a song that Roger sings...”

“So?”

“You can’t sing a guy’s song!”

“You want an encore or not?”

“But...well, why?”

“First stanza’s perfect, Robert.”

“But…the song is about a guy who’s dying from AIDS!”

“So? They want another song. I’ll give it to them. Don’t worry, I’m making the song my own!”

“That you are, Mina...that you are. Now get out there. It’s amazing. You’re dallying around and they’re still clapping!”

I flash him a victory sign with my fingers and run out onstage, my orange dress swishing merrily at my heels.

The applause gets louder and people start to yell as they see me reappear on stage, quieting down once I start to speak.

“Thank you, everyone! It’s because of you that I’m standing here today!” I flash my famous smile. "I’ve decided to sing one more song for you, my fans! I’ll be singing ‘One Song Glory’ from an American musical entitled Rent!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
my costume is on
and the scenery shines
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lights dim once more. A spotlight appears, brighter, brighter...there. I look out into the audience and give them a dazzling smile, knowing that the way the lighting illuminates my dress makes me appear radiant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
they all wait for me
to say my lines
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crescendo.

*/*Glory
One song before I go
Glory
One song to leave behind
Find one song
One last refrain
Glory...*/*

As the song builds speed, so do I, becoming cocooned in a world of my own, bringing life to the song, making it bear more meaning to my own life, infiltrating it with raw emotion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
countless in numbers
are the laughter and tears
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My final notes linger in the air, captivating the audience.

Silence. So quiet, I bet you could hear a pin drop.

Then the silence shatters.

Applause. Mind-blowing applause. Twice as loud as before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the emotions so differ of he who hears
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you! Thank you all so much!” I curtsy one last time and gather up some roses that have been thrown onto the stage. I blow a kiss to the audience and flash a victory sign, winking as I run off the stage, the applause still deafening my ears.

“You’ve proven me wrong, Mina. That was amazing!”

“Thanks, Robert!”

“Hey, don’t go too far. I have something to tell you, okay?”

“What’s that?”

“After my closing speech.” He grins at me and walks onstage. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out here today! I hope that you all enjoyed our show! Now before you all leave here tonight, I have a very special treat! Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce the musical director of the New Globe Theatre, Richard Scavvy!”

A portly man with silver hair and a potbelly walks onstage. “Hi everyone! I’m here to inform you all that I’m gathering together a cast of the best talent across England for a special all-star cast version of Les Miserables, to be performed at the Globe Theatre this summer!”

He waits until the murmurs die down before continuing. “From this cast, I’ve chosen to ask Minako Aino to reprise her role of Eponine!”

The crowd drowns out the rest of his speech and he stops to let them cheer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I laugh in fear
as I cross the stage
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robert ushers me back onstage. “Comes on, Mina!”

“But I—I—”

“Shocked, huh?”

“I—Yeah.”

Wow. Chosen to be in an all-star production by Richard Scavvy? And to actually perform at the Globe?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
my whole life's been used
just to reach this age
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is it. This is really, truly it. I’ve made it to the big time. All my life, I’ve been waiting for this moment. Now it’s being handed to me on a silver platter. Who am I to refuse this chance?

I smile at Robert, quickly glancing into a nearby stage mirror to make sure that my face is still intact, then walk across the stage placidly.

“Congratulations, Minako!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
and now I’m stepping in
to begin again
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I smile benignly. “Thank you, Mr. Scavvy! This is an amazing opportunity and I feel incredibly honored to have been chosen!”

“Trust me, Minako. The honor is all mine.” He grins at me and heartily shakes my hand. “Would you do both the audience and myself the honor of performing ‘On My Own’ to celebrate this landmark occasion?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
and I start to cry
will this ever end
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I smile weakly. I’ve been at it all day and already did an encore. I’m too tired to perform the way that everyone is expecting me to...“Of course I will! After all, if it wasn’t for Eponine, I wouldn’t have been offered such a wonderful opportunity!”

And once more I’m in the spotlight.

All eyes on me.

Pressure.

But then again, isn’t this what I thrive for? This rush that comes after a successful hunt? I’ve cornered my prey. So close I can already taste it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I dance and I dance
and I sing and I sing
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sing on and on, ending with a flourish of my hands and a downcast chin.

Applause.

Time to be humble, time to paint on my smile, time to go put on a charade for the cameras.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hope my conscience won't let me
keep this masquerade going
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stand patiently as Richard Scavvy begins speaking again, clutching my flowers to my chest.

Finally, he finishes his monologue.

More applause.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I finish my part
and the lights go down
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The curtain falls, hiding me from my fans once more.

I can be myself once again.

I gratefully close my dressing room door, leaning against it tiredly.

“Mina!”

Then again, maybe not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
and once again
I'm just a clown
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I open the door hesitantly and my mother barges past me.

“That was horrendous, Minako. What on earth were you trying to do out there? The last thing the audience remembers is the last thing that they see you do. Your last song—if you can call it that—was sub-par. I’m very disappointed in you.”

She turns to glare at me. “How do you expect to perform someplace as prestigious as the Globe if you can’t even get your act together at a rinky-dink theatre like this? It’s times like this that I’m ashamed to call you my daughter!”

I stare at her resentfully. “I am what you made me, Mother.”

And the usual debate begins anew, with no one winning anything more than a plethora of hurt feelings until we get so fed up with one another that we both leave in a huff—me to my house, and her to her car for the drive back to her house in Hertfordshire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mina, what the hell are you doing? I told you I want more oomph in your voice! Now try it again!”

“Yes, sir.” I begin my sequence again, trying to give it more of what Richard Scavvy classifies as ‘oomph.’

Again and again, my every move is a joke.

I’ve never been ridiculed like this before. It’s never been me. I’ve always been the best, never the worst.

What’s happening to me?

“Mina! Stop daydreaming and get back to work!”

I close my eyes warily, then begin anew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week goes by. The performances don't go any better than the dress rehearsal went.

It’s no longer me who is the star. It isn’t me who receives the standing ovations.

I no longer shine. I’m no longer spectacular. It’s no longer me that people come to see.

It’s all come crashing down.

Outside of the fishbowl, I’ve realized that I simply don’t have what it takes to make it in the sea.

I may have been the most talented thespian in East Barnet, but here, the only thing about me that glitters are the sequins on my purse.

A knock on the door.

“Come in!”

Richard Scavvy walks into the room and takes off his hat. “Mina, I have something I need to discuss with you.”

“Sure, sit down.”

“No, that’s okay.” He clears his throat. “Look, Mina...for the past seven days, you haven’t been...up to par.”

I lower my head and busy myself with brushing my hair.

“What’s going on, Mina? You’re so much better than this. What’s happening?”

Sliding. Hard and fast. Plummeting to Earth.

“I’ve had a bit of a cold. It threw me off for a while.”

“Why didn’t you come to talk to me about it?”

“Because I didn’t want to seem weak?”

He nods thoughtfully. “Mina...if you can’t talk to me about something as simple as that, how can we build a network of trust?”

“I just—”

“Mina...” He fiddles with his hat. “Listen, your timing hasn’t been up to par for awhile now. When you’re going up stage, it really shows. It’s like your heart just...isn’t in it or something.”

“Of course my heart is in this! This is my life!”

“No, Mina, it’s your façade. Do you even know what you want anymore?”

I put down my towel and turn to face him. “I want this. I’ve wanted it since childhood. This is my dream!”

“Are you sure about that, Mina?”

“Yes!”

“Look...Monica is going to step into your shoes for the remainder of this production of Les Mis.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “You’re firing me?”

“No, I’m giving you a vacation. Take some time to figure out what it is that you do want.”

“But...Monica isn’t as popular as me! She won’t bring the crowds that I bring, she doesn’t—”

“She’s your understudy, Mina. Besides, right now you aren’t bringing in any crowds, either.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Look...call me if you ever figure out what you do want, okay?”

He smiles sadly. “It was a pleasure knowing you, Mina. I hope you figure out what it is that you want in life.” He puts his hat back on his head and walks out of my room.

Fired? Me? What just happened here?

As if on cue, my cell phone rings.

Mother.

God, I don’t want to do this right now...but if I don’t pick up, she’ll just keep calling...

“Hello?”

“Mina, good. Listen, I’ve called the travel agent and booked a flight out to come see you perform this weekend.”

“Actually, Mother—”

“I’m really looking forward to this, Mina. I mean, the Globe! You’ve made the big time, just like I’ve always known you could! My friends are all so jealous!”

“Well, actually, I—”

“Just imagine, my daughter performing at the Globe! I can just—”

“Mother!”

“Yes, dear?”

“I’m...not performing at the Globe this weekend.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m going on vacation?”

“Excuse me?”

Thank god she’s only on the phone and not really here...I can just imagine how scary she’d look right about now!

“I’m taking a break for awhile.”

“Why would you do that to yourself? You’re throwing everything away, Mina! Chances like this don’t come along all the time!”

“Just...I needed a break, Mother.”

“Richard Scavvy finally realized that he was wrong to choose you and decided to get rid of you, didn’t he? I know you, Mina. You wouldn’t do this. You wouldn’t throw it all away to go on vacation!”

My eyes close in defeat. “He called you?”

“You mean he really did fire you? Minako! How could you?”

“It’s not like I was trying to get fired, Mother.”

“I’m very disappointed in you, Mina. You’ve let me down. Right now, I don’t even want to call you my daughter.”

“But—”

“No. Mina, call him. Beg if you have to, just—”

“Mother, no! I don’t—”

“If you don’t do this, you are no longer my daughter.”

“Are you threatening disown me?”

“More than threatening, Minako. Either you stop being lazy and stop this opportunity from getting away or you are no longer my daughter. I refuse to have a daughter that I can’t be proud of.”

Dial tone.

Disbelief courses through my veins. How could everything have spiraled out of control so fast?

What do I do now?

I place my phone back on my vanity and look in the mirror. The girl staring back at me...I don’t even recognize her anymore. She isn’t me. She’s a thespian whose picture is hung everywhere in her hometown.

Why did I leave? There, my talent was appreciated. Here...I’m no longer spectacular, merely...ordinary.

I hate this feeling.

This girl...she looks so fake, almost like she can’t breathe. I need to do something to help her. She’s so pitiful.

I wipe off her makeup, freeing her face, rubbing it until it’s a bright pink.

There, that’s better.

I look around the room. Pictures everywhere. They’re all of her, chronicling her success. Always, always, her smile is fake.

She doesn’t deserve this. She deserves to be on stage where she belongs. She was born to shine.

How could she possibly have fallen so far?

The pictures come down, matted together, shoved into my dressing bag.

All my mementos removed. Nothing remains in this bare little dressing room. It no longer welcomes me. I’ve stripped it of my very existence.

My welcome is worn out.

The Globe is eerily silent right now. Everyone else left hours ago.

Night at its darkest. Rather than hail a cab, I decide to walk. The crisp air feels good on my skin. A breeze captures strands of my honey-gold hair, playing with them, catching them in my eyes. It is the puppet master and I its puppet.

Without the theatre, what am I?

A poster in the window.

The light dawns.

I can still act, can’t I? I already have a fan base, and the theatre has always been a harvesting ground for movie stars.

Wouldn’t Mother be proud if I were to become a movie star?

Why, people around the world would have the opportunity to fall in love with me!

A diner appears in the night. My stomach grumbles.

An elderly woman leads me to a small booth in the corner of the nearly deserted diner. An elderly man sits two booths down. We are her sole customers this late at night...or this early in the morning, depending on how you look at it.

“Whatcha doing all the way out here, love? It’s not the safest place in town.”

“I’m on my way home from working at the theatre.”

“Oh? Are you a thespian?”

“Not anymore. I’ve decided I’d rather make it big some other way.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I want to be in the pictures now.” I lower my head from the woman’s stare and fiddle with my napkin.

“Well, why not, right? You sure are pretty enough. If you’ve got it, why not flaunt it?”

I smile weakly. “Thanks...”

“Lemme go getcha your food, love.”

I watch her walk away, losing myself in my thoughts once again.

The pictures...that will solve all my problems! I’m sure once everyone realizes that I’m on the market, I’ll be snapped up in no time!

“Here you are, honey.”

“Thank you.” I pick at my food, no longer hungry, no longer sure why.

“Excuse me, miss?”

I look up. The elderly man hovers over my booth, no longer at his own.

“I heard you say you wanted to venture into the movies?”

“Yes...” He was listening in on our conversation? Weird.

“Well, I have a small production company and am always on the hunt for new talent.”

“What makes you want me? You haven’t even seen me audition.”

“Well, you sure are pretty enough. Your looks alone will bring them flocking to your films.” He runs his hands through what remains of his greasy hair. “I mean, my company isn’t very high up on the ladder, but nobody can automatically jump to the top. You have to pay your dues and slowly climb up.”

“And...you’re willing to take a chance on me?”

“Definitely.” He gives me a once-over. “Trust me. You’ll make my company lots of money. You’ll be a big star in no time!”

“Really? You can make me a star?”

He chortles and rubs his hands together. “You better believe I can!”

A star! Mother will be so proud! I’ll do absolutely anything so long as I can make my way back into her good graces!

“A star...”

“Trust me. Chances like this don’t come along every day. It may be months before someone else offers you a job, and they may not be able to make you a star the way I can.”

He’s serious. He’s really serious! Oh, to be discovered the moment I decide to do this! Luck is on my side once again!

I flash him my most brilliant smile. “I’ll do it!”

Maybe now, she’ll finally be proud of me. Once again, I’ll be a daughter to be proud of.

Life will be absolutely perfect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This submission has been created for the June 2003 SMRFF Lyric Wheel. The song I received is entitled “This Theatre” by Poor Old Lu.

Obviously, though I adore and worship both musicals, neither Les Miserables nor Rent belong to me. Neither does the Globe, which was home to many of Shakespeare’s plays during his lifetime. They’ve since re-built the theatre, but it still, unfortunately, doesn’t belong to me...

AN-I really had trouble with this fic. I wanted it to be really good to make the person whose song I received happy, but I ran into lots of trouble along the way. Even still, I may yet do another LW...............er, someday ^.~

Now, as for my logic, seeing as the theme was 'A Sorta Fairytale' and this isn't a REAL fairytale? Well...isn't everyone's dream to succeed and be revered? So, Mina succeeded. There's the fairytale. Now, the 'sorta' comes in because...well, just because you achieve your dream...it isn't ALWAYS what you thought it would be. So...that's my logic :nodnod: (Staying on the musical vibe, we need to look no further than Sondheim’s Into the Woods to see this logic in action firsthand!!)

Anywhoo, have a great weekend!

Like it? Hate it? I’m the one to talk to! Hit the little review button or Email ladybaine at gmail dot com today!


«•´`•.(*•.¸(`•.¸ ¸.•´)¸.•*).•´`•»
«•´¨*•.¸¸. *Baine*.¸¸.•*¨`•»
«•´`•.(¸.•´(¸.•* *•.¸)`•.¸).•´`•»