Eleazar
11-07-06, 04:01 PM
((SOLO))
The Cerulean Tomorrow (Remix)
Chapter 1: Of Paiges And Police Officers
Minutes ago, the midnight sky of Scara Brae, the young adventurer’s capital, glimmered with a scattering of twinkling bright stars, the motherly rays of the milk-white moon and the sweet cushioning of the dark cumulus clouds. The only light to be seen was the muffled flickerings of candles, lamps and chandeliers in the little townhouses below. The night was warm and cozy as the greying stray cats on the dirty granite streets hunted for another taste of that slimy sewer rat flavour. The raucousness of the noisy merchants and traders were not to be heard, as the city slept securely in their warm beds, dreaming dreams filled with wonder, amazement and beauty. And even amongst the smell of days-old rotten fish and evaporating human sweat, the night was still a humble security blanket for the municipality. Looking down at the placid city, not a thing would have foreshadowed a messy affair between a Scara Brae tourist and a local Gemslight family heiress.
As mentioned before, the night was a jolly good one, but unfortunately, in stories like this one, things always have to turn out for the worst. The midnight blue sky still had its fair share of shimmering heavenly bodies, smirking down at the peaceful city, but now, aside from the light pouring down and illuminating the city with a fantastical glow, it was accompanied by a heavy trickle of fat raindrops, falling from the heavens like tears, or crystal clear urine. Or both. There’s always room for that in a creative journalist’s mind.
Paige auPapier vigorously wiped away the heavy raindrop that plopped gallingly onto the exterior of her eyeball, wetting the sensitive surface of her odd blue-grey eyes, shaking away the farfetched notion that the stars in the sky were easily relieving themselves, dropping their liquid waste down on innocent people. The downpour of rain was not as heavy as the other few nights when Paige was out doing journalist/reporter business, and just a little bit of drizzle would never have stopped her from coming down to yet another murder scene. The truth of the matter is: nothing would stop Paige from following her “journalist intuition” (she insisted to all her friends that there was such as thing). Flipping her blue-black hair aside, diminutive drip-drops of rainwater fell of, trying to desperately cling to her for some ground to where they can live their short lives before they evaporate into the warm atmosphere of Scara Brae. With the hair out of her stern ordinary-looking face, Paige, just one of the many motivated journalists of the Scara Brae Star, made her way towards the Paris Gemslight murder crime scene.
In truth, Paige’s “journalist intuition” was usually fuelled by more conventional means (but of course, she had to hide away that teeny little fact from her friends, who were not as gullible as they seemed to be). Ten minutes ago, Paige auPapier was just like every other citizen of Scara Brae that night, sleeping silently in her comfortably feather bed, dreaming of dreams filled with promotional opportunities and literary breakthroughs, courtesy of herself. After a wake-up call from her boss at Scara Brae Star (“Wake the hell, Paige! I got a job for you!”), the potty-mouthed Joe Janus Johnson (better known as JJJ or triple J), via the ever-popular shriek dragon courier, Paige changed from her cutesy blue bunny pyjamas to her usual outfit, a navy blue shirt, some dark denim jeans, a black leather jacket and her old worn-out running shoes. Sadly, because of her laziness, Paige did not bother turning on her light switch, and as she made her way towards the crowded crime scene, the twenty-one year old woman frowned as she took notice of a commonplace black shoe on her left foot and a pink Patty the Pig running shoe on her right.
Pushing her way through a large mob of snooping citizens (police, journalists, reporters, witnesses, by-standers, and gossip folks alike), Paige pulled out her handy dandy notebook, taking jot notes on the who, what, when, where and why of the incident. She shoved away an old man, obviously a fancy shmancy noble by the way he dressed, smirking as he cried out when he lost his balance and fell down, and quickly inched her way through towards the center of where all the commotion was happening. Sliding through the crags between humans, demi-humans and not-so-humans alike, and almost literally crawling her way through the swarm, Paige, shaking her head in both exhaustion and irritation, finally reached the middle.
The prestigious Hospital had arrived earlier than most people had expected it to, because, due to unknown reasons, the ambulances usually always came late. Unbeknownst to the general public, the emergency room of the Hospital is the unofficial central of Scara Brae’s gossip, but that’s beside the point. The white-clothed doctors and nurses on the scene, those who were not part of the Hospital staff, rushed towards the stretcher making its way out of the beautiful Gemslight Manor, pushing and jostling at each other to get a chance at looking at, and possibly treat, a local celebrity, which will most certainly earn them thousands of gold pieces and the elusive “fame” thing that most people would die for. One haggard looking doctor fell down the steps of the majestic Manor, trying to make a grab for one of the Hospital worker’s light blue coat, and yet another crazed medical practitioner attempted to foolishly jump onto the stretcher, hoping to see if the occupant was dead or alive.
So much for safety, health and security…, Paige thought, gazing upon the madness caused by the murder of renowned heiress Paris Gemslight.
Suddenly, the mass of doctors and nurses collectively gasped, as Paris Gemslight’s hand miraculously jerked to life. The Hospital workers quickened their pace towards the ambulance, with its glaring red flashing lights and the blaring waaah-woooh of the sirens, piercing the ears of by-standers. Lifting a cynical eyebrow, Paige blinked, taking her first photograph of the night. Her blue-grey eyes flashed open and flashed closed throughout the duration of the people paparazzi-ing Paris Gemslight, even in her unforeseen near-death.
Aside from being an excellent journalist and field reporter, Paige auPapier was hired at Scara Brae Star because of her unusual ability to be able to take biological snapshots of anything. Just by turning on one part of her dexterous brain, she can begin to take these biological snapshots just by blinking her eyes. These snapshots are stored in another part of her brain, sometimes even inflating it to horrid-looking proportions, but Paige avoids those circumstances as hard as she can. Well known in the journalistic world, Paige was comically and critically known as the “snapshot girl” and was voraciously fought over by different newspaper corporations in Scara Brae, among them Scara Brae Everyday, Adventurer’s Times, The Daily Bugle and her current employer, Scara Brae Star. Picking the right newspaper company was just a matter of preference for Paige, but she was the one in demand at the time of her journalistic breakthrough.
After a flurry of taking her unique bio snapshots, Paige turned to search for any clues, suspects or witnesses to put in her newspaper article piece, which, she assumed was expected to be submitted for front page news tomorrow morning. Searching the crowd for any people that seemed important to the story, Paige spotted a pompously dressed old man, who also happened to be the shortest old man she had ever seen. Recognizing him immediately from other newspaper articles and the local town gatherings, Paige ran towards the flock of journalists and interviewers surrounding the flustered Genis von Trumple, the loyal butler of the Gemslight family.
“I don’t know what happened!” Genis von Trumple said in a panicked voice. His cultured manner of speaking faltered at the sheer shock of the turn of events. “One minute, she was dancing in the foyer… and the next, I saw her bleeding on the floor in her room!”
“… do you know who did it do you have any idea are there suspects being held why aren’t her parents here how old are you why was there a party being thrown are you going to be fired do you think you are responsible for her almost fatal injury are you going to take responsibility what time exactly did this happen how did the person get in what time did the party start was the food good what’s your name who are you why are you asking stupid questions do you think she’ll be okay what do you want us to put in the paper are you willing to lay down your life in exchange for the information about the murderer should the party have been thrown in the first place has her parents been contacted yet is she alive is she dead where are the stripes she had on her face before will you pay for her Hospital expenses or will the family…”
“STOP ASKING ME QUESTIONS!” Genis von Trumple marched away from the paparazzi in a hurried frenzy, away from the questions drilling his poor little brain. Little did the paparazzi know that all the questions, in Genis’ ears, meshed together your old grandmother’s beef/chicken/pork/vegetable/surprise ingredient stew. Paige, being the annoyingly stalker journalist that she was (and had to be, to keep her tiring yet high-paying job), followed along with the crowd as they raced towards the escaping butler, who was being led by a black-and-blue clad police officer, his shiny gold badge glimmering in the rainy Scara Brae night. The pair slipped into a police car, as the paparazzi slammed themselves onto the vehicle desperately prodding the exhausted butler for answer to their smart (and stupid) questions. The car drove away immediately, and fast too, to prevent anyone from following them, because the police needed privacy in questioning Genis von Trumple. Unfortunately for the old butler, the interrogation tactics of the dumbfounded police officers of Scara Brae were much worse than of the usual paparazzi.
After the departure of the seemingly crazed Mr. von Trumple, Paige turned herself away from the scenic crowd, jumping after the police car’s quick and daring escape, and searched for yet another witness to victimize with her journalistic powers. An official authoritative-looking police officer, dressed in an imposing blue vest, adorned with medals and badges of all colours, shapes and sizes, was standing alone, jotting something down on his little pad of paper as he conversed with another regular-looking officer. Surprised at the fact that he had not been overwhelmed by the slew of reporters, Paige made her way towards him.
Catching some movement coming towards in the corner of his eye, the police officer turned towards the petite young woman, who was enthusiastically holding her pen and pad of paper, eager for some answer to her questions.
“So, you finally found me, eh? I’m surprised people haven’t overrun me with their questions, like they did the poor Genis.” He glanced up to the direction of where Genis’ car fled, which was also the direction of where the S.B.P.D., Scara Brae Police Department, was located.
“Well…,” Paige began. “It would be no use running after a car that you know was to fast for you.”
“That’s true. I find it awe-inspiring how fast those other reporters can run, though.”
“You’d be surprised.” Paige smiled politely at the officer, finding an odd ease with him. She was not usually at ease around anybody, including her God-forsaken family, but the policeman had a relaxing aura about him that exuded peace and security. “My name is Paige auPapier, I’m a reporter for Scara Brae Star.” She held out her free hand, with him grabbing it and giving her a firm handshake, with her returning the favour.
“Lieutenant Vinzer Hemingway of the S.B.P.D.. Pleased to meet you, Ms. auPapier.”
“Is it okay if I ask you some questions? Just general info about the Paris Gemslight case.”
He nodded in reply, as he absent-mindedly scratched the white hairs on his balding head. “Fire away, little lady.”
“Do you have any leads on who might have killed… or actually, injured Paris Gemslight?”
“Not a clue, little lady. We’re actually surprised that she’s still alive. Nobody bother to check if she was still breathing,” Paige smiled, her “journalistic intuition” had finally proven itself. “But apparently, she was a Crest Hunter.”
“A Crest Bearer?”
“Mmhmm. A Crest Hunter is a biological entity that hunts down Crests. Sometimes, these Crest Hunters actually acquire the Crests they are looking for. In this case, Paris most likely found her Crest. The Crest that Paris Gemslight had provided her with just a little extra healing powers, so the wound that would have killed her healed itself before it actually took her.”
Paige jot down the remarkable information, not bothering her chicken-scratch handwriting, because the facts were more interesting that they seemed to be. There would be time to sort out the grammatical errors and spelling mistakes, unless you couldn’t read them altogether. “Hmm. So she was actually a Crest Bearer… which explains the markings she had before, right?”
“Right you are, little lady. Unfortunately, the Crest that she supposedly had, is gone. The most plausible theory is that the killer took the Crest, and is carrying it around with him right now.”
“Wouldn’t we be able to tell who the other Crest Hunter is then, if he even is a Crest Hunter? Since he has the Crest, wouldn’t he have the tiger stripes Paris had, too?
Vinzer Hemingway shook his head in dismay. Obviously, there was more to this story than meets the eye. “Not that easy, little lady. Like you said, we don’t even know if he’s a Crest Hunter. If he wasn’t he wouldn’t have the stripes. It would be the same if he was a Crest Bearer. Not stripes, but he would have the Crest somewhere embedded in his body.”
“Crest Bearer? I’m assuming that’s the entity that’s supposed to have the Crest.”
“Right again. You’re a smart little lady. Smarter than most journalists I’ve seen.” Mr. Hemingway glimpsed at the some of the other journalists, walking around the crime scene, looking for people to interview. “Anyhow, I think you have everything you need for tomorrow’s paper… or actually… today’s paper.” He glanced at the gigantic clock tower in the middle of Scara Brae, shining upon down upon them. “It’s already past one o’clock, unless my eyes are deceiving me.”
“Don’t worry, your eyes have yet to experience unreliable quality.” she remarked, beaming at him, impressed by her own wittiness. “Time flies by when I’m at the scene.” Paige smirked unhappily, wishing she hadn’t gotten that shriek dragon call from JJJ. A good night’s sleep would have been extremely comforting, but, like all journalists were going to that night, Paige was going to have to stay up to write that report. “Thanks again, Mr. Hemingway, for all your help.”
“No problem, little lady. You just get to writing, I’m expecting to see my name in the paper tomorrow morning!”
The Cerulean Tomorrow (Remix)
Chapter 1: Of Paiges And Police Officers
Minutes ago, the midnight sky of Scara Brae, the young adventurer’s capital, glimmered with a scattering of twinkling bright stars, the motherly rays of the milk-white moon and the sweet cushioning of the dark cumulus clouds. The only light to be seen was the muffled flickerings of candles, lamps and chandeliers in the little townhouses below. The night was warm and cozy as the greying stray cats on the dirty granite streets hunted for another taste of that slimy sewer rat flavour. The raucousness of the noisy merchants and traders were not to be heard, as the city slept securely in their warm beds, dreaming dreams filled with wonder, amazement and beauty. And even amongst the smell of days-old rotten fish and evaporating human sweat, the night was still a humble security blanket for the municipality. Looking down at the placid city, not a thing would have foreshadowed a messy affair between a Scara Brae tourist and a local Gemslight family heiress.
As mentioned before, the night was a jolly good one, but unfortunately, in stories like this one, things always have to turn out for the worst. The midnight blue sky still had its fair share of shimmering heavenly bodies, smirking down at the peaceful city, but now, aside from the light pouring down and illuminating the city with a fantastical glow, it was accompanied by a heavy trickle of fat raindrops, falling from the heavens like tears, or crystal clear urine. Or both. There’s always room for that in a creative journalist’s mind.
Paige auPapier vigorously wiped away the heavy raindrop that plopped gallingly onto the exterior of her eyeball, wetting the sensitive surface of her odd blue-grey eyes, shaking away the farfetched notion that the stars in the sky were easily relieving themselves, dropping their liquid waste down on innocent people. The downpour of rain was not as heavy as the other few nights when Paige was out doing journalist/reporter business, and just a little bit of drizzle would never have stopped her from coming down to yet another murder scene. The truth of the matter is: nothing would stop Paige from following her “journalist intuition” (she insisted to all her friends that there was such as thing). Flipping her blue-black hair aside, diminutive drip-drops of rainwater fell of, trying to desperately cling to her for some ground to where they can live their short lives before they evaporate into the warm atmosphere of Scara Brae. With the hair out of her stern ordinary-looking face, Paige, just one of the many motivated journalists of the Scara Brae Star, made her way towards the Paris Gemslight murder crime scene.
In truth, Paige’s “journalist intuition” was usually fuelled by more conventional means (but of course, she had to hide away that teeny little fact from her friends, who were not as gullible as they seemed to be). Ten minutes ago, Paige auPapier was just like every other citizen of Scara Brae that night, sleeping silently in her comfortably feather bed, dreaming of dreams filled with promotional opportunities and literary breakthroughs, courtesy of herself. After a wake-up call from her boss at Scara Brae Star (“Wake the hell, Paige! I got a job for you!”), the potty-mouthed Joe Janus Johnson (better known as JJJ or triple J), via the ever-popular shriek dragon courier, Paige changed from her cutesy blue bunny pyjamas to her usual outfit, a navy blue shirt, some dark denim jeans, a black leather jacket and her old worn-out running shoes. Sadly, because of her laziness, Paige did not bother turning on her light switch, and as she made her way towards the crowded crime scene, the twenty-one year old woman frowned as she took notice of a commonplace black shoe on her left foot and a pink Patty the Pig running shoe on her right.
Pushing her way through a large mob of snooping citizens (police, journalists, reporters, witnesses, by-standers, and gossip folks alike), Paige pulled out her handy dandy notebook, taking jot notes on the who, what, when, where and why of the incident. She shoved away an old man, obviously a fancy shmancy noble by the way he dressed, smirking as he cried out when he lost his balance and fell down, and quickly inched her way through towards the center of where all the commotion was happening. Sliding through the crags between humans, demi-humans and not-so-humans alike, and almost literally crawling her way through the swarm, Paige, shaking her head in both exhaustion and irritation, finally reached the middle.
The prestigious Hospital had arrived earlier than most people had expected it to, because, due to unknown reasons, the ambulances usually always came late. Unbeknownst to the general public, the emergency room of the Hospital is the unofficial central of Scara Brae’s gossip, but that’s beside the point. The white-clothed doctors and nurses on the scene, those who were not part of the Hospital staff, rushed towards the stretcher making its way out of the beautiful Gemslight Manor, pushing and jostling at each other to get a chance at looking at, and possibly treat, a local celebrity, which will most certainly earn them thousands of gold pieces and the elusive “fame” thing that most people would die for. One haggard looking doctor fell down the steps of the majestic Manor, trying to make a grab for one of the Hospital worker’s light blue coat, and yet another crazed medical practitioner attempted to foolishly jump onto the stretcher, hoping to see if the occupant was dead or alive.
So much for safety, health and security…, Paige thought, gazing upon the madness caused by the murder of renowned heiress Paris Gemslight.
Suddenly, the mass of doctors and nurses collectively gasped, as Paris Gemslight’s hand miraculously jerked to life. The Hospital workers quickened their pace towards the ambulance, with its glaring red flashing lights and the blaring waaah-woooh of the sirens, piercing the ears of by-standers. Lifting a cynical eyebrow, Paige blinked, taking her first photograph of the night. Her blue-grey eyes flashed open and flashed closed throughout the duration of the people paparazzi-ing Paris Gemslight, even in her unforeseen near-death.
Aside from being an excellent journalist and field reporter, Paige auPapier was hired at Scara Brae Star because of her unusual ability to be able to take biological snapshots of anything. Just by turning on one part of her dexterous brain, she can begin to take these biological snapshots just by blinking her eyes. These snapshots are stored in another part of her brain, sometimes even inflating it to horrid-looking proportions, but Paige avoids those circumstances as hard as she can. Well known in the journalistic world, Paige was comically and critically known as the “snapshot girl” and was voraciously fought over by different newspaper corporations in Scara Brae, among them Scara Brae Everyday, Adventurer’s Times, The Daily Bugle and her current employer, Scara Brae Star. Picking the right newspaper company was just a matter of preference for Paige, but she was the one in demand at the time of her journalistic breakthrough.
After a flurry of taking her unique bio snapshots, Paige turned to search for any clues, suspects or witnesses to put in her newspaper article piece, which, she assumed was expected to be submitted for front page news tomorrow morning. Searching the crowd for any people that seemed important to the story, Paige spotted a pompously dressed old man, who also happened to be the shortest old man she had ever seen. Recognizing him immediately from other newspaper articles and the local town gatherings, Paige ran towards the flock of journalists and interviewers surrounding the flustered Genis von Trumple, the loyal butler of the Gemslight family.
“I don’t know what happened!” Genis von Trumple said in a panicked voice. His cultured manner of speaking faltered at the sheer shock of the turn of events. “One minute, she was dancing in the foyer… and the next, I saw her bleeding on the floor in her room!”
“… do you know who did it do you have any idea are there suspects being held why aren’t her parents here how old are you why was there a party being thrown are you going to be fired do you think you are responsible for her almost fatal injury are you going to take responsibility what time exactly did this happen how did the person get in what time did the party start was the food good what’s your name who are you why are you asking stupid questions do you think she’ll be okay what do you want us to put in the paper are you willing to lay down your life in exchange for the information about the murderer should the party have been thrown in the first place has her parents been contacted yet is she alive is she dead where are the stripes she had on her face before will you pay for her Hospital expenses or will the family…”
“STOP ASKING ME QUESTIONS!” Genis von Trumple marched away from the paparazzi in a hurried frenzy, away from the questions drilling his poor little brain. Little did the paparazzi know that all the questions, in Genis’ ears, meshed together your old grandmother’s beef/chicken/pork/vegetable/surprise ingredient stew. Paige, being the annoyingly stalker journalist that she was (and had to be, to keep her tiring yet high-paying job), followed along with the crowd as they raced towards the escaping butler, who was being led by a black-and-blue clad police officer, his shiny gold badge glimmering in the rainy Scara Brae night. The pair slipped into a police car, as the paparazzi slammed themselves onto the vehicle desperately prodding the exhausted butler for answer to their smart (and stupid) questions. The car drove away immediately, and fast too, to prevent anyone from following them, because the police needed privacy in questioning Genis von Trumple. Unfortunately for the old butler, the interrogation tactics of the dumbfounded police officers of Scara Brae were much worse than of the usual paparazzi.
After the departure of the seemingly crazed Mr. von Trumple, Paige turned herself away from the scenic crowd, jumping after the police car’s quick and daring escape, and searched for yet another witness to victimize with her journalistic powers. An official authoritative-looking police officer, dressed in an imposing blue vest, adorned with medals and badges of all colours, shapes and sizes, was standing alone, jotting something down on his little pad of paper as he conversed with another regular-looking officer. Surprised at the fact that he had not been overwhelmed by the slew of reporters, Paige made her way towards him.
Catching some movement coming towards in the corner of his eye, the police officer turned towards the petite young woman, who was enthusiastically holding her pen and pad of paper, eager for some answer to her questions.
“So, you finally found me, eh? I’m surprised people haven’t overrun me with their questions, like they did the poor Genis.” He glanced up to the direction of where Genis’ car fled, which was also the direction of where the S.B.P.D., Scara Brae Police Department, was located.
“Well…,” Paige began. “It would be no use running after a car that you know was to fast for you.”
“That’s true. I find it awe-inspiring how fast those other reporters can run, though.”
“You’d be surprised.” Paige smiled politely at the officer, finding an odd ease with him. She was not usually at ease around anybody, including her God-forsaken family, but the policeman had a relaxing aura about him that exuded peace and security. “My name is Paige auPapier, I’m a reporter for Scara Brae Star.” She held out her free hand, with him grabbing it and giving her a firm handshake, with her returning the favour.
“Lieutenant Vinzer Hemingway of the S.B.P.D.. Pleased to meet you, Ms. auPapier.”
“Is it okay if I ask you some questions? Just general info about the Paris Gemslight case.”
He nodded in reply, as he absent-mindedly scratched the white hairs on his balding head. “Fire away, little lady.”
“Do you have any leads on who might have killed… or actually, injured Paris Gemslight?”
“Not a clue, little lady. We’re actually surprised that she’s still alive. Nobody bother to check if she was still breathing,” Paige smiled, her “journalistic intuition” had finally proven itself. “But apparently, she was a Crest Hunter.”
“A Crest Bearer?”
“Mmhmm. A Crest Hunter is a biological entity that hunts down Crests. Sometimes, these Crest Hunters actually acquire the Crests they are looking for. In this case, Paris most likely found her Crest. The Crest that Paris Gemslight had provided her with just a little extra healing powers, so the wound that would have killed her healed itself before it actually took her.”
Paige jot down the remarkable information, not bothering her chicken-scratch handwriting, because the facts were more interesting that they seemed to be. There would be time to sort out the grammatical errors and spelling mistakes, unless you couldn’t read them altogether. “Hmm. So she was actually a Crest Bearer… which explains the markings she had before, right?”
“Right you are, little lady. Unfortunately, the Crest that she supposedly had, is gone. The most plausible theory is that the killer took the Crest, and is carrying it around with him right now.”
“Wouldn’t we be able to tell who the other Crest Hunter is then, if he even is a Crest Hunter? Since he has the Crest, wouldn’t he have the tiger stripes Paris had, too?
Vinzer Hemingway shook his head in dismay. Obviously, there was more to this story than meets the eye. “Not that easy, little lady. Like you said, we don’t even know if he’s a Crest Hunter. If he wasn’t he wouldn’t have the stripes. It would be the same if he was a Crest Bearer. Not stripes, but he would have the Crest somewhere embedded in his body.”
“Crest Bearer? I’m assuming that’s the entity that’s supposed to have the Crest.”
“Right again. You’re a smart little lady. Smarter than most journalists I’ve seen.” Mr. Hemingway glimpsed at the some of the other journalists, walking around the crime scene, looking for people to interview. “Anyhow, I think you have everything you need for tomorrow’s paper… or actually… today’s paper.” He glanced at the gigantic clock tower in the middle of Scara Brae, shining upon down upon them. “It’s already past one o’clock, unless my eyes are deceiving me.”
“Don’t worry, your eyes have yet to experience unreliable quality.” she remarked, beaming at him, impressed by her own wittiness. “Time flies by when I’m at the scene.” Paige smirked unhappily, wishing she hadn’t gotten that shriek dragon call from JJJ. A good night’s sleep would have been extremely comforting, but, like all journalists were going to that night, Paige was going to have to stay up to write that report. “Thanks again, Mr. Hemingway, for all your help.”
“No problem, little lady. You just get to writing, I’m expecting to see my name in the paper tomorrow morning!”