kenoscomm | techalaniani. [cw: dr...ugs...]

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techalaniani. [cw: dr...ugs...]

[ It’s about two weeks after the chaos that’s hit Highstorm and Springstar both. The dust has had time to settle and people have started to pick themselves back up. And in that busy time, the Shard-Bearers of Kenos are touched by someone new. It’s a mind that gives the impression of vastness in the way that other gods and similarly supernatural creatures have. There’s dark, fragrant smoke of copal, and the humid heat of a rainforest. It probably feels faintly familiar to some, since there’s just a hint of that warmth that feels similar to a certain sun god(dess)…

But as it focuses, that warmth seems to be coming from a campfire, perhaps oddly. The logs around it offer you a “seat”, whether proverbial or not, and it’s only if you take one that the speak themselves will come into more focus. But the introduction that comes with it is much cooler (in both senses of the word) than the bubbly Quetzalcoatl. ]

Yo.

[ …Is that how the newest god is greeting the masses? Yep. Apparently so. ]

I talked to enough people when Kenos was jerking me around [ no, that was me, the player, ] that Communion is just more efficient. So, for those I’ve met and for those I haven’t, consider this a more formal greeting. You’ve removed my brother Quetzalcoatl and allowed me to descend in his stead.

[ And even though he’s identified Quetzalcoatl as his brother… The smirk in that statement is unmistakable. He’s pleased that Quetzalcoatl is dead. For those that know the mythology of the Aztec pantheon even faintly, this wouldn’t be a surprise at all, since Quetzalcoatl only has one enemy that would be glad to see the feathered serpent fall. ]

Name’s Tezcatlipoca. Tloque nahuaque. [ The Nahuatl is spoken with a sense of power that’s subtle, but still raw, even though there’s no one that would understand it. Still, it conveys the idea well enough—this is no minor god of that pantheon. ] If you know me, great, and if you don’t, well. Met your god Set one of the times I was stoppin’ by, and our whole deal is similar enough. I am conflict, so in the spirit of fairness, I’ve thrown my lot in with Zenith. Can’t have two gods that oversee war and conflict on the same side, yeah?

[ There’s humor in his tone that makes it seem like it’s a joke, but… No. It’s not. That’s a pretty significant part of his rationale for picking Zenith. Thanks Set!/Don’t worry about. ]

Anyways. All that formal shit aside, easy one to follow it all up. Ain’t often that I got a human body to enjoy getting fucked up. So, if you’ve got a preference for weed, hit me up. Workin’ on somethin’ artisanal there, but I wanna know the poisons of preference for the locals. Let me know what you get fucked up on, and I might even make it worth your while.

[ …So. You know. That’s one way to introduce yourself. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fungible…

[ He chuckles out the word, since it feels strange on his tongue, but at least physically untying shoes isn’t as difficult as trying to do it with your mind. Probably. For example, at the same time, he’s wiggling off the one shoe of his he’s untied. It’s about as graceful as you’d imagine (not at all), but he at least makes an appreciative noise at the hand through his hair. Though he does laugh again as he realizes— ]

Guess I lost that hair-tie somewhere. [ rip the man-bun, you were lost at some point this evening ] You feelin’ any more competent with your hands? You can braid my hair, unless you want to wake up with some in your mouth. It gets fuckin’ everywhere.

[ Long hair problems… But with one shoe done (including wiggling his own off), he starts on the other. ]

It’s not what?

[ He does return to that part of the conversation, absolutely. He’s not so far gone that it’s out of the question. He’d already learned that limit on his first outing in Kowloon… It’s distinctly possible that his first visit to Kenos and then departure was really more of a dissipation, but. ]

Hey, hey, there is no problem with my hands, [ Matt protests. A beat. ] There's no problem with any of my magic. It's just that not all of it has the same level of practice attached.

[ He gently sweeps aside one section of Tezcatlipoca's long spill of hair, careful not to tug on it while he's being so gracious about Matt's shoes. More getting a sense for its weight and thickness. ]

You're in luck, [ he murmurs. ] My big sister made me learn how to braid hair when we were little. I got pretty good.

[ And honestly, it served him well in high school and college. You'd think it would've veered too "gay best friend" for girls to find attractive, but not all the time! But anyway, it takes Matt a moment to reroute. ]

I don't think I'm afraid of change, [ he says, after a moment of tracing the conversation back. ] I mean ... I told Gavial if it were up to me and I knew it wouldn't hurt anyone, I'd always want to make something new. Take a chance, see something that's never been seen before.

‘Specially not when crossfaded, right?

[ He teases with a laugh, but it’s not like his own efforts are much more elegant. He just has the benefit of, well, fungibility at hand that makes it go a bit more smoothly.

At least for himself, there’s nothing particularly special other than what might seem like good genes, if that were truly a factor here. He doesn’t have any particularly magical aspects when it comes to his own body, so his hair is very pretty, but it’s because he takes care of it! But at least in human form, he’s subject to the same kinds of trials and tribulations as anyone with long hair after a night out, it seems—some small tangles, split ends, et cetera. And though it’s subtle (because he’s focused on his task very literally at hand), he seems to appreciate the personal attention of Matt tending to his hair from his body language alone. ]

…Ah. Gotcha. Bit more, anyways.

[ Objectively speaking, he understands that hesitation. He’s a god that’s closer to humans than might initially be expected, but he’s still set apart from them. The way that mortals and immortals—especially gods—thought was simply different, especially when it came to something like this. But he has a bit more desire to understand it than others might. ]

Dunno if that’s possible. [ Genuinely, he doesn’t know, but he imagines not. ] So, what if it does hurt people? The change worth it then?

[ Hmmm, Matt retorts, amused, for "crossfaded." It's hard to work up too much indignation when they're so close together, forming this little pretzel of undressing and tending-to. He finds a few tangles in Tezcatlipoca's hair and works them smooth again. His fingers move dreamily, rather than clumsily, which means that though he's slow, he manages to do his untangling without tugging or causing more split ends. ]

I don't know if the change is worth it, [ Matt muses. ] There's a part of me that thinks anybody alive now has the right to keep living over people who might be alive in the future. Even though some of the people alive now, like people from Highstorm, believe in making that sacrifice. I think it'd have to be unanimous before I was totally okay with it.

... But that's all kind of to the side of the whole Shard thing. Asking for stuff.

[ He thinks it’s naïve, honestly, but it’s not unexpected. He thinks of it as naïve in the way that he thinks of a lot of mortals as naïve—it’s not an insult. It’s a simple statement of fact and a factor of the limited experience of the world they’re offered. It’s not a bad thing at all, which is why he doesn’t say it that way. ]

To tell you the truth, it’s why I don’t agree with this at a basic premise. Dunno if there’s any control to be had over that. But that’s not the kinda question you should have to worry about. Balancing the scales of life and what comes after is a god’s duty, and I don’t mean that to be a dick. More that the way we work, it’s not a problem to us to balance those scales.

[ …It is to the side of the Shard part of things, though. He finishes untying Matt’s boot, so with both of them done, he returns to his remaining one. Since it still involves him bending over to do it and Matt is still working with his hair, he just sets his cheek on Matt’s closest leg while he works on it. It’s silly, perhaps. But that’s drunk/high-brain for you. It’s why he also pauses before admitting: ]

…S’why I feel weird about takin’ a Shard. [ It’s more slurred, more mumbled. Maybe it’s the drugs, maybe he’s embarrassed. It’s impossible to tell. ] Shouldn’t need to be “paid” for it.

[ All the gods Matt's met seem to be aligned on this point: mortals shouldn't have to make decisions on this scale. (Quetzalcoatl was the first one to tell him as much.) Matt agrees, frankly. And yet here they are.

He hums again, gentler, when Tezca's cheek presses to his leg. Moving on to another section of hair, he repeats the process of carding his fingers through, working small tangles loose. ]

I don't know about should or shouldn't, [ Matt notes quietly. ] But I definitely think you deserve the same options as all the rest of us. [ A quirk of his lips. ] That's the labor perspective, anyway. Everybody gets compensated for their work.

[ Normally, Matt wouldn't ask his next question. Or at least he'd hem and haw some before he did it. But now, lulled by intoxication and proximity, he goes for it. ]

There was one person you wanted to save? Or like--bring with you, to whatever's next?

Yeah. My disciple.

[ He laughs out the title like it’s a joke, and it kind of is. It’s what he’d called Daybit not infrequently, and there’s part of it that’s true. He definitely fit plenty of the criteria. But mostly, it was Tezcatlipoca’s way to soothe his own pride and avoid calling Daybit his Master. Sure, “Master” and “Servant” were just the terms that mages had come up with to describe the partnership between a mage and a Heroic Spirit (disclaimer: the heroism of said spirit need not always apply), but… Dammit, they definitely could have picked less loaded words. Leave it to mages, basically.

He finishes untying the boot, but he just keeps his head on Matt’s leg. It’s partially laziness, but his gaze has also settled on the only thing he’d asked Silco to add. It’s a pretty common feature of Kowloon apartments to have a kind of secret safe, but there’s only one thing in Tezcatlipoca’s. And honestly, he feels guilty for keeping it in here, but it’s better than the worry he’d feel carrying it around. Even for a god with some dominion over souls, it felt too fragile to risk carrying around casually. ]

…The guy that summoned me. Asked for my help. [ With what, Tezcatlipoca doesn’t say, but that whole explanation feels like a bit too much. Maybe when he’s sober, he might, but as much as “an alien was going to eat the Earth in a month’s time” sounds like the perfect kind of talk to have while you’re high, the reasons why Daybit wanted that to happen weren’t. ] Didn’t get to finish what we started, so… Dunno. Felt like I owed him.

[ And more than that, but those are the complicated pieces that Tezcatlipoca is stubbornly trying to push away. He wanted him to be able to relax knowing their world was gone, since that’s what they wanted in the end. He wanted to give Daybit a second chance, like maybe this place was too far away for the Angels to reach and use him. He missed him.

He tilts his head back towards Matt slightly so that he can look at him. His expression is critical, but honestly, it’s for himself, not Matt. ]

That’s why I’m surprised you didn’t pick someone too. Sure, ain’t good to owe someone mysterious like Yima, but… [ He pauses, since the implication here is, well. It is what it is. ] It’s human.

[ Matt is quiet as he listens. His fingers turn gentler, drifting from detangling to simply stroking Tezcatlipoca's hair. He wonders what the word disciple means to him. Tezcatlipoca mentioned not meeting so many believers, even among mages, so maybe it's something like that. Someone who has faith in you. Matt can understand wanting to preserve that--the sacred relationship between god and man, the mutual reaching out.

Tezcatlipoca turns to look at him. To Matt, his eyes are sharp as a bird of prey's--a meat-eater's. Matt remembers, from what he's read, that it's not always so enviable to be a god's favorite mortal. ]

I guess it is, [ he admits, feeling guilty. ] And if I could save everyone from my world, so their souls could move on to the next one ... even if they weren't in the same container they were before, you know, the same body ... I'd do that.

But since I can't, I thought about who would want to be here with me. At the end of the world, or the start of the next one.

And.

I don't know.

[ Tezcatlipoca listens too, and Matt’s quiet confession comes with a piece of understanding for the god as well. He might not be right, but with how he inherently viewed the world, everything had a purpose. At least for his role in it. He’d been beckoned here, and most of it was perfectly obvious. This was a conflict, and here was here to help sow its seeds and make sure it was a battle truly worth fighting. He would be war and chaos with Set as his equal and opposed, because if there’s a battle for such a large fate, then it must be one given all its due.

…However, its fighters weren’t all the typical warriors. They existed, sure, but for the most part, he’d been talking to people like Matt. Perfectly ordinary people, at least compared to the hardened warriors that he naturally favored. This kind of lonely answer gives him an idea, though. There may be some souls that would have been destined to journey to Tlahuiztlampa, the resting place of warriors, but the rest… Maybe at the end of their journey, they’re destined to end up in his paradise. Mictlampa is the land of rest, the place where those who may have struggled in other ways would finally find their peace. He has his own thoughts about those souls, and, well… ]

…What a pain in the ass.

[ It’s either a non sequitur or a very rude dismissal to the vulnerable moment, but just from Tezcatlipoca’s expression as he shifts, it doesn’t seem to be the latter. He keeps his thoughts to himself as he kicks off that other boot ungracefully and sits up. His head swims with the movement and he breathes out a woah, but he puts a hand on Matt’s shoulder. It’s clearly meant to be a reassuring touch. ]

Didn’t mean to put you on the spot. [ It’s as close to an apology as he’ll get. ] Just- feels selfish of me to pick anyone. Which, fuck, I know I’m fucked up, sayin’ all this shit.

[ He withdraws his hand to just let it sit next to him. ]

Dunno if it means anything from me. But you don’t have to know.

[ It would've been nice, Matt thinks distantly, to be told you won't be alone forever or even what, a nice guy like you? SOMEBODY from your world would want to be with you. Or maybe that would've made things worse.

He doesn't know what he feels now. It feels a little bit like nothing. ]

I don't think you're being selfish, [ he murmurs. Unwilling to meet Tezcatlipoca's gaze, he looks down, turning his focus to kicking off his shoes. ] Maybe it's stupid not to pick someone, even someone random. My second grade teacher. Our old housekeeper.

[ It'd be a soul retained who wouldn't be otherwise. N+1 in the universal equation. Matt manages to wriggle his feet free from his boots; they hit the floor, clunk, clunk. He turns back to Tezcatlipoca, reaching for his hair. ]

Here. Let me braid this.

[ He’s not sure he agrees, but he doesn’t linger on it. It’s not like he’s going to give Daybit back. He’s made his choice there, so… He can only continue forward. So, with a nod, he turns a bit so his back is more to Matt, since that makes it easier to braid. ]

You could, but I dunno. Maybe it’s worth savin’ the slot, so to speak. Might be that you run into someone that needs it. Far as I know, there’s not a time limit besides the obvious.

[ Win or lose, and even then, only one case really matters. ]

I’m on your side, though. [ He’s pretty sure, at least. He might phrase it more harshly when he sobers up, offer his usual conditions that he only offers his favor to those who at the very least strive for a goal, but for now: ] I gave you a key to my place, right? So you ain’t alone, unless you want to be. Just remember that.

[ Even crossfaded, with his body flickering gently between the present and the future, Matt can recognize the gesture as one of kindness. He sighs, soft, as he takes up a section of Tezca's hair.

The braid he starts in on is a fishtail, somewhat by accident; his fingers remember it better than his brain. Just know that Tezcatlipoca came this close to a beautiful "first ballet recital" French braid. ]

Thank you, [ Matt says. He means it, though the bulk of his appreciation is for the suggestion about Shards. It feels practical, meaningful. Why should somebody suffer between picking two loved ones for their shot at salvation while Matt struggles to think of one? He watches himself sweep Tezcatlipoca's hair into a woven pattern--recognizable and structurally sound, if not terribly neat. ] I guess it's good to talk these things out sometimes. In your own head, you can get so stuck.

[ He continues the process of undressing while Matt works, though it’s quick work to get his shirt undone considering how little of it he keeps buttoned… He shrugs it off with a neutral sound to the thanks, and it reveals the tattoo underneath for the first time. Just like the designs on his arms, it’s a simple design, but the large design of a black sun isn’t exactly subtle in its meaning. ]

Man, no fuckin’ kidding.

[ He clicks his tongue in annoyance as he tosses the shirt over to the general Pile Of Stuff he’s created. This conversation topic works for him, since it’s not like he cares about a heavy mood, exactly, but some complaining will lighten it. Even if it’s a unique form of “privilege” behind it… ]

I thought that shoving myself into a human body was bad enough, but at least I still had Authority because it was in Mictlan. Here? Fuck. You know what it’s like to be omniscient and omnipresent, then suddenly, bam, you’re not. Feels tiny.

[ …Not that this would help him with his internal conflict about Daybit, exactly. But he’s just complaining for the sake of it because it came to mind and he has less of a brain to mouth filter than he normally might. ]

[ The revelation of the tattoo is a momentary distraction to Matt. One hand bookmarks his place in the braiding while the other lifts to Tezca's back. A fingertip skirts the edge of one of the sun's rays.

At the notion of a human body being bad enough, Matt chuckles--but the follow-up actually gives him pause for a moment. ]

I don't, exactly, [ he allows, which honestly he probably does not need to say. Comes with the territory, being a human and all. ] But I do have ... a feeling like I know all I need to know, and I'm where I'm supposed to be. Sometimes.

[ Matt is momentarily flummoxed when he returns to his braiding, but after briefly undoing part of the fishtail, he gets back into the rhythm. He's most of the way down by now. Even with mild impairment and the length of Tezca's hair, it's a simple enough pattern. ]

…Well, yeah.

[ He laughs, since it’s a question/complaint that was rhetorical, but it makes sense that he’d answer. Tezcatlipoca starts to turn his head to look back his way, then remembers, right, the hair braiding, so he just corrects the movement into a shrug. ]

It’d probably fry your brain to try. Just, y’know, too much. [ He could never know for sure (ironically), but he suspected that’s part of why Daybit’s whole deal was what it was. But he won’t get into that, lest he dive into thoughts he’d consider kind of sad and pathetic (again). ] So, that feeling is pretty good, I’d say. Plenty of people don’t get that much.

[ And since he’d been caught up complaining— ]

You dig the tattoo?

[ Matt sighs, wistful. ]

I know it would. I can barely even remember the way I do feel, when I get to that place--once I'm out of it, I mean. But that's what reminded me of what you said. [ His fingers keep moving, the going a good deal easier now that he's near the ends of Tezca's hair. ] It feels small on the other side. Kinda lonely.

[ Like Tezcatlipoca, Matt becomes cognizant that if he keeps going down this conversational path, there's more downer moments waiting. And the subject change is very pleasant, so he jumps on it. ]

I do dig it. [ "Dig" sounds slightly funny in his mouth, but the repetition is affectionate. Matt finishes Tezca's braid, nudging it over his shoulder for his inspection. He traces the disk of the sun tattoo with his fingertip; it doesn't feel like making a decision to bend and press a kiss to the topmost ray. Not quite reverent, not quite chaste, but a little of both. ]

[ Tezcatlipoca makes a small noise, a soft huh once Matt explains it, and it’s… A little surprising. At least in his world’s definition of it, omniscience tended to be just for the world and its happenings (or, worse, the capital-‘W’ World). It wasn’t for peoples’ thoughts or inner worlds like the word could sometimes mean. So, he considers it for a moment until Matt finishes the work.

He reaches up to touch it, and just from the slight turn of his head, it’s easy to see his appreciative smile. He could have done it himself, sure. But there’s some presumptuousness on his part (why should be have to, if someone will do it for him?) and a piece where he just enjoys gestures like this. From how easily he’ll shake a hand, throw an arm over someone’s shoulder, or generally get in their personal space, he’s just a physical person. ]

Thanks.

[ For the hair, for the compliment, but it’s said just before Matt leans forward. The gentility of the kiss surprises him, but he laughs before he turns back towards Matt. Smoothly, he dips forward and catches Matt’s lips in a kiss. It’s about the same as the first time they’d kissed, honestly. They’re both intoxicated, he tastes and smells like cigarettes because of his chainsmoking, and it’s something easily given. It’s gentler this time, though. ]

[ But it doesn’t last as long this time, alas. He pulls away as he starts to stand and unbuckle his belt, but lest there be any misinterpretation, he laughs it off. ]

Don’t get your hopes up tonight, though. Wasn’t kidding when I said I was fuckin’ tired, and besides.

[ He tosses the belt aside, then starts to shimmy out of his skinny jeans. ]

Drank too much Braindance. Or whatever was at that second place. Dick wouldn’t fuckin’ work anyways. [ the eternal moodkiller, whiskey dick… at least he’s honest about it… ] Watch out, though. I’m a cuddler.

[ From his grin, it is very hard to tell whether he is joking or not… ]

Edited 2024-03-05 04:28 (UTC)

[ Matt's incredibly bad at explaining what he means. The way casting spells feels like the inner world of his individual soul and the outer reaches of the universal soul become one. Or rather, the illusion that they're different falls away. It's why he relates the feeling to omniscience and omnipresence--why he can feel so hollow sometimes, when the feeling fades.

But whatever chance Matt had at explaining himself flies out the window at the kiss. He sighs into it, hm, and sways slightly after Tezcatlipoca when he pulls away, as if to chase his lips.

But then Tezca clarifies, and Matt laughs. ]

I hadn't thought that far ahead, [ he admits, honestly. Would his dick work right now? Unclear. ] No worries. I appreciate our choices tonight for what they were.

[ In his current frame of mind, he hears "I'm a cuddler" as totally literal, and smiles over it as he shrugs out of his own shirt. He reaches out to brush Tezca's shoulder affectionately. Now that he's touched one of his tattoos this evening, a sense of tactile completionism has him going for more. ]

Ha, yeah, then good we got it out of the way before we both ended up disappointed.

[ He knows himself, after all. Largely that once he gets going, it’d be hard to stop, and, well. That road only leads to comical disappointment tonight. Once he’s kicked those off too, he plops back down to the bed almost playfully in time to catch that touch on the shoulder. From how he leans into it, it seems that it’s a true statement, at least. And largely, it is! It’s just also something he’s fairly recently found out. Gods don’t exactly need to sleep, after all, so. It’s the whole human body thing that had led to this discovery.

He moves to lay down with his back to the wall (looks like he’s taking big spoon duty), but beckons for Matt to come with him as he lounges back. ]

C’mere— [ He slurs it out, but then it turns into a laughed out yawn ] Might feel this night tomorrow, but, eh. Was fun, so worth it.

[ Matt's dark trousers hit the floor, landing on his discarded shirt. With his back to Tezcatlipoca, his own back tattoo can be seen: a stern circle in black and gray, all interlocking geometry and scraps of ancient languages. Latin, Greek. There's a half-monkey, half-man tattoo peeking out from his underwear, curling around his right hip.

And of course, his Shard over his heart, where his emerald lotus tattoo used to sit. Nothing Tezca hasn't seen before, given Matt's state of undress when he arrived here. But there's a little less going on right now. More time to get acquainted.

He glances back to Tezca with a smile. And he settles down on the bed alongside him, back to his front. ]

I had fun too. [ He stretches out, getting comfortable. And gives a yawn of his own. ] Thank you for taking me out ...

[ At least this time Tezcatlipoca is taking the proper time to admire the artwork. His gaze drifts along the various pieces of the design, and some parts make more sense to him than others. The imagery he gets, more or less. It’s part of the advantage (if you could call it that) of the Throne of Heroes. Even if he’d cheated the summoning system in a pretty major way, he could still benefit from the knowledge that it granted to any Servant, lest they be totally lost in a new era and the mythologies of the wider world. Latin and Greek, though… Not so much. Those weren’t exactly considered important.

It's his turn to trace out a tattoo, so his fingers glide of those pieces in particular. ]

‘Course. I got a personal philosophy about working hard and playing hard.

[ …Granted. “Work” in Tezcatlipoca’s case is something still yet to be revealed to pretty much anyone, save for Set and Silco, who at least had an inkling of what to expect. ]

What’s it say?

[ His hand stops tracing the letters as he asks, but only so that he can shift into a more comfortable position for sleep to better match Matt. He’s already more ready to settle down for the night with someone next to him, he realizes. ]

[ The easy pattern of Matt's breathing changes at the question. Not quite a stutter, but surprised. It strikes him, as he makes the outsized mental effort it takes to feel certain what Tezca means, that most people don't ask. ]

It says ...

[ Another soft yawn. Now that Matt's horizontal, he can't imagine wanting to do anything but sleep and snuggle. (Well, he can imagine it. He just doesn't want to move.) ]

It's a ward. Against possession by malign spirits or energies. [ At least here, when people do ask, he can tell them the truth without worrying. Part of the truth. ]

Huh.

[ There's a story there, clearly. Tezcatlipoca's gaze drifts back down to the words like he might now be able to see the power in them (he, in fact, does not). But while he's curious and he considers asking, that seems like something that'll dip back into a serious conversation. He's had his fill of those for the evening.

So instead, he just loops an arm around Matt in a lazy half-embrace. It definitely wasn't a joke. He's a cuddler. ]

Well, we remember this conversation tomorrow, we'll chat about it then. For now, let's get some rest before the hangover catches up with us.

[ Matt shifts a little closer when Tezca drapes that arm around him. He's more relieved than he realizes that he isn't going to pursue the topic right now.

Matt doesn't have hard and fast objections to getting into it. Back home, it's like the fact he does magic: a default secret, one he keeps to make life easier. He just feels like he's already been enough of a mess tonight. Surely, even with spare keys to a god's apartment, you've gotta space these things out. ]

Sounds good, [ he murmurs. He can't reach Tezca easily from where he is, apart from the arm that's around him. Matt's thumb brushes the back of Tezca's hand; his head turns briefly, slightly, so he can blow a kiss that comes with a soft sound. Mwah. ] G'night.

[ In Matt's recollection, he's asleep by the time he turns his head back. ]

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