“Don’t bother. I’m good. If it’s too much to handle, I’ll give you a shout.” Unlike other agents who patrolled, I currently worked alone. I’d not yet been assigned a new partner since the shakeup at my office.

In the last few months, a ton of people had been fired and, in some cases, even charged. My old boss had been the worst. Turned out she’d been colluding with an evil witch and abetted in innocents getting slaughtered. The witch had since been killed, and as for my boss? She now sat in a cell waiting for trial. Karma in action.

Other agents got swept up on charges of dereliction of duty because they knew what happened and didn’t report or stop it. A few, like Ralph—the asshole I’d been reluctantly paired with—were discovered to have been taking bribes to look the other way from cryptids behaving badly. I couldn’t say I was sad to see the lazy fucker go. Ralph should have never been given a badge.

Given the shakeup left our CA office short-staffed, and given I was a senior staffer with actual magic, they’d opted to let me work alone for the moment—until some new agents could be transferred or recruited. I hoped that took a long time. I quite enjoyed working solo. My car stayed clean—no more fast-food wrappers all over the place or the smell of the burps that came after. No dealing with assholes who treated me like I couldn’t hold my own because I didn’t have a sausage between my legs. A witch didn’t need a man with a gun to protect her. I’d zap any threats myself, thank you very much.

According to the address, the location hosted a storage unit place. I parked outside the closed gate by the main office. As I stepped out, I didn’t sense anything untoward. Sometimes the stench of a crime in progress hit you with eye-watering results, like that time I checked out a ghoul preying on graveyards. No mistaking the putrid decay in that case.

A woman, her hair bleached to the point I’d think twice about even brushing it, emerged from the square building. Her wild eyes went well with her harried expression. “We’re closed,” she barked.

I flashed my badge. “I’m Agent Marissa Smith from the Cryptid Authority. We got a call about a disturbance.”

“Thank the baby Jesus you’re here. You have to do something about the monster.”

Humans had a thing for calling anything that didn’t look like them monsters. Most of the time, the cryptids in question were benign. The dangerous ones weren’t allowed into populated areas.

“What can you tell me about the intruder? Do you know where it came from? Are you sure it’s still on the premises?”

“It was inside one of the storage units. I only found it by accident when I opened it to see what I could auction off for nonpayment.”

Sounded like it might be a case of an illegal cryptid pet. It happened. People bought them on the black market and either kept them as status symbols or used them in fights—or for rare ingredients.

“Did you recognize the type of creature?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No idea what it is, but it sure is ugly. Reminds me of my great-grandpa when he was on his death bed with the big C. Gaunt body but giant head!” She held out her hands in what surely had to be an exaggeration.

“You say it was inside one of the storage units?”

At my query, she nodded. “Unit 5C. One of our longest-running clients. Always paid on time until about six months ago.”

Six months… Hunh. That was when all the shit with the witch and the corruption at my office went down.

“Is the creature still inside the unit?”

“I don’t know. Once I saw it, I took off running. Thought my heart was going to burst.” She put a hand to her chest.

“You have cameras?” I queried, seeing one aimed at the entrance.

“Yes, but they’re not working. I keep meaning to get them fixed.”

Shame. It might have given me an idea of what I dealt with.

I walked to the gate and eyed it. Easy to climb even with the barbed wire sprouting from the top. There was a good chance the intruder hadn’t remained confined.

I glanced at the owner over my shoulder. “You said it reminded you of your great-grandpa. So, humanoid in shape?”

Her head bobbed. “Yes. It looked like an old crotchety man with a gigantic head. And when it hissed at me, it had sharp teeth.”

Add in the fact she’d found it inside a storage unit and I had a feeling I knew what we dealt with. A Spriggan, known for their obsessiveness in guarding what they considered treasures. Not common for this side of the ocean, given they were of Cornish origin. Most likely illegally imported. They tended to be cheaper to feed than paying for actual security.

“I’ll need to get inside.” I inclined my head at the gate.

“Alone?” She eyed me and pursed her lips. Even with my own sex, I got disrespected.

“This is what I do, ma’am.” I refrained from rolling my eyes.

“Okay, but if anyone asks, I’m gonna swear on a stack of Bibles that you’re doing it willingly. I ain’t getting sued or arrested because you think you’re some kind of super woman.”

Did I really look that inept?

I blamed the hair. Bright pink and determined to remain that shade no matter how many attempts I made to bleach or dye it.

“You won’t be blamed if I get hurt,” I sighed. “Now would you please open the gate?”

“Whatever. Your funeral,” she muttered as she went back into the building. A moment later, the gate clanked as it rolled open, revealing asphalt that branched between the long single-story buildings with roll-up doors. The siding, a bright yellow, contrasted with the blue of the various units. I saw no sign of anything untoward. Could be the cryptid remained inside the unit it guarded.

As I took a step into the enclosed area, the woman emerged. “Aren’t you going to put on a vest or grab a gun?”

“I’ve got something better than that.” I lifted my hand, and magic shimmered into place around me, forming a shield more durable than any Kevlar.

“Feckin’ witch,” muttered the woman.

A rather rude thing to say given I’d come to help her out, but I was used to humans denigrating those of us with power. It had to be hard knowing they would never be blessed with magic and the potential for greatness. A bitchy thing to think, perhaps, but having grown up being bullied for being different, I no longer gave a fuck.

I’d barely gone three paces when the gate rattled along its track, shutting me in. Some might have been pissed the owner left me with no quick exit. Me, though, I thought it smart. I’d hate for the cryptid to slip out and make my job harder.

Given I had no idea of the layout, I walked straight, head tilted, every single one of my senses scanning. I heard nothing. Saw nada. Smelled zilch. Not even a tingle of magic whispered past me.

The units had letters and numbers on the outside of them, which led to me trying to remember the unit the woman had mentioned, which I’d already forgotten. I could have returned to ask her, but she already thought me incompetent and I had no intention of reinforcing her shitty opinion. Besides, the place wasn’t that big. Surely I’d run into the cryptid at one point.

I kept walking and murmured, “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

At a cross-section, I glanced left, just in time to catch the blur that dove at me. As my body moved to avoid, I took in details of my attacker. Slight figure, body wrinkled and grayish in tone, head massive and sprinkled with greasy strands of hair. Spriggan confirmed.

Now it should be noted, as a CA agent I swore to try and do no deadly harm. We weren’t in the business of killing cryptids but rather had a mandate to capture. All that to explain why I didn’t blast the Spriggan into tiny meat chunks despite the fact it would have taken a bite out of me.

Instead, I sidestepped its attack and, as it rushed past, cast out my hand to wrap the creature in a magical fist that it couldn’t escape. Once the Spriggan realized it had been caught, it screeched and flailed, its head and lower part of its legs the only things able to move.

“No. No. No,” it shrieked.

“Behave,” I chided. Spriggans had rudimentary speech comprehension. Usually. This one didn’t appear to be listening, given it kept struggling. “Calm your ass down. I’m not here to harm you. I’m Agent Smith with the Cryptid Authority.”

It hissed, “Release us.”

“No can do. You don’t belong this side of the big pond. You are under arrest for being here illegally.” The fact the Spriggan most likely had been smuggled in didn’t matter. Certain species were prohibited from relocation, especially the harmful varieties.

“No go,” it stubbornly insisted.

“Be pissed all you want. It doesn’t change the facts. You are going to come with me to the CA precinct. In good news, once we’ve figured out where you were snatched from, you might be returned so long as you haven’t committed any violent crimes.” Because if it had, then it would be headed to a super-prison instead. We had them scattered around the globe. Maximum-security buildings, often partially buried underground or in mountains, with insanely complex magical safeguards in order to prevent the escape of those deemed too dangerous for society.

The Spriggan paused its thrashing for a moment and stared at me. Its mouth opened wide in a grin as it murmured, “Yummy pink candy.”

Gross. But not as gross as its hard-on.

“Ew. Put that thing away.”

“I gets to go first!” it crowed.

Odd thing to say until I realized there were two of them!

As the second Spriggan slammed into me from behind, I couldn’t keep my balance and found myself pitching face-first. My shield kept me from getting a face full of asphalt; it also kept the claws at bay. I pushed more magic into it, heating my defense enough the Spriggan attempting to eviscerate me yelped and sprang away. However, my beefed-up shield and attack caused me to lose my hold on the first Spriggan.

Quickly, I shoved to my feet, annoyed at having been caught by surprise.

“Gonna adds you to our collection,” hissed the first creature, who didn’t run once released from my magical grip.

“I says we eats her,” lisped the second.

And then a third I never noticed just had to chime in. “Breed her.”

Oh hell to the no. Outnumbered, and with no time to call for help, I prayed to my goddess, even as I knew she might not answer.

Hekate wasn’t like some of the other deities who reveled in being worshipped. She tended more to the aloof side and encouraged independence from her followers, which might explain why she had only a few.

To my surprise, she answered my call, not with words or encouragement though. My magical reservoir suddenly filled, the power tingling me head to toe, so much I almost burst with it.

“Oh, hell yeah,” I murmured. “Let’s go, you fuckers.”

As the trio of Spriggans suddenly barreled for me, thinking they could crush me by working in tandem, I took the magic brimming within and expelled it, forcing it outward in a wave that didn’t just knock my assailants flat; it dented the storage units on either side.

Damn. My goddess truly had come through for me.

When the concussion of the magic wave faded, I swiftly moved to secure the cryptids before they could rouse from their daze. I bound their hands with strips of iron, rendering each Spriggan defenseless. Only then did I use my phone to call in.

“Gonna need the van for pickup,” I declared, feeling rather proud of myself.

“On its way,” Horace stated in reply.

While I waited for the paddy wagon to arrive, I sauntered past the damage, looking for the original unit that held the Spriggans. It proved easy to find. For one, it remained open. Two, it stank. And three, it held a litter of ugly little Spriggans that appeared to be feeding off the corpse of a woman with her stomach ripped open. Yikes. Looked like they’d been discovered just in time. The damage this many Spriggans might have caused if they got loose would have caused some serious PR nightmares with our CA office.

The hissing younglings were easily corralled, their tiny bodies too undeveloped yet to do more than express their displeasure.

With that finished, I peeked inside the unit, wondering who in their right mind paid to house these creatures. To my surprise, while the front of the unit might be a mess, the back of it appeared untouched. A harder glance with my othersight—what I called looking past the real world to that of the esoteric—showed a shimmer of power. A curtain of magic protected stacks of boxes. Boxes I recognized, of sorts. The CA logo was stamped across them, and I had to wonder at their content. Confiscated goods stolen from our office? Personal files? Or junk that simply happened to be stored in some branded boxes?

Before I could find out, a commotion in the form of voices and gates rattling open indicated reinforcements had arrived.

I exited the storage unit to see Pablo and Felicia approaching, the former being honest enough to not be involved in the previous rot in our office and the latter a new hire. They were accompanied by the storage complex owner, who had her lips pursed in a mighty scowl.

“Your Spriggan problem has been neutralized,” I informed her as she got within talking distance.

“You destroyed my place!” she shrieked. “I am going to sue.”

Actually, she couldn’t, as the CA had a government sanction to use whatever force necessary to subdue misbehaving cryptids.

“Insurance should cover the damage,” I advised.

“If I had any!”

“In that case, go after the person who illegally stored the Spriggans on your property.” I tried to give her options, but she shot that one down as well.

“Hard to get money out of a dead-beat client,” the woman grumbled, crossing her arms.

“I’m sure there’s something that can be done.” Pablo tried to soothe the irate owner and led her away.

Meanwhile, Felicia snorted. “Some people just don’t know how to say thank you.”

“No shit.” I’d risked my life to help and all I got was grief—and not just from the owner of the storage units.

My new boss, a stern and grizzled former military advisor, Abe Kowalski, called me into his office and gave me a stern look as he said, “You took a big risk going in by yourself once you realized the dangerous situation.”

“A danger I handled,” I pointed out.

“Only because you got lucky,” he barked. “And that’s not acceptable. Protocol states, in the case of aggressive cryptids, an agent is to wait for backup unless there is imminent danger to themselves or civilians.”

“I didn’t know there was three of them.”

“But you did suspect a Spriggan, correct?” At my nod, he continued to berate. “This office has been through too much shit lately for me to have to deal with the paperwork of an agent who thinks she’s above the rules. I’m putting you on desk duty until we can find you a partner who will temper your vigilante ways.”

“You’re benching me? But I’m one of the best you have.” I couldn’t hide my shock.

“Exactly and we could have lost you today because you were cocky.” Kowalski’s lips turned down. “Trust me, I don’t like doing this, but you’ve left me no choice.”

He had a choice. He could let me do my job.

Instead, I got relegated to the basement.

Chapter 2

Being placed on desk duty sucked. Even worse, the punishment wasn’t because I’d failed to do my job. I’d captured the Spriggans. Done so without loss of life and yet, instead of being commended, I’d been disciplined.

So unfair.

Some people might have pouted or whined, even yelled. Having been around the block a few times in my thirty-five years, I’d reached a maturity level that allowed me to accept my boss’s decision without resorting to the stomping of my feet or quitting. Although I was tempted. Inaction didn’t suit me.

As if being stuck inside the precinct didn’t blow enough, I also didn’t get to work on active case files. A part of me hoped I’d be able to prove a point by making a few calls, searching a few databases, and piecing together some clues to solve a crime. I was a damned good agent.

Instead of showing off my skills, I got sent to the basement to deal with the stash of boxes recovered from the storage unit. To my surprise, according to the info Kowalski messaged me, the criminal who stashed them turned out to be none other than my last boss. The crooked one. Apparently, rather than having old CA case files digitized, she’d chosen to steal and hide them away for no reason anyone could discern.

My task? To check every single one of those files against our databases before shredding them. If the file was missing online, then I got the lovely task of inputting them one by one. It should be noted, typing was not one of my strong points.

I grimaced as I entered the musty room with a single tiny—and dirty—window covered in bars. The boxes numbered seven in total and had been stacked in a corner. My workspace consisted of a dented metal table, a chair that appeared on its last legs, and an ancient computer. A sticky note beside it had log-in instructions.

I spent the first three days of my punishment bored out of my mind and annoyed. Turned out all of the records needed to be manually added to the database of cryptid crimes. My slow and painful hunt and peck at the keyboard meant each missing report took me ages to add. It didn’t help the things I had to update were stupid.

Gnome stole a lawn ornament. Who cared? It happened a decade ago.

Fairies got drunk on fermented fruit. Again, a nothing burger.

A neighbor’s dog pissed on a witch’s roses and caused them to wilt. Why had anyone even bothered writing the complaint down?

On and on the list of petty crimes went, both a waste of paper and my time. None of these needed to be saved forever. I could have shredded them all and the world wouldn’t have known the difference, especially since most of the case files went back decades.

The last box with the most mildew and rodent damage made me sigh. The chew and piss marks made the files more challenging to discern, and once I did, I could have screamed, as it was just more dumb shit—warlock made it rain Popsicle dicks for a Pride parade, a goblin stealing garbage cans, a child found in the ashes of a house that burned down. A little girl with pink hair and no last name.

I blinked and reread the last file in disbelief.

Holy fuck. The report was about me. I was that child. An orphan whose memories started the moment social services took me into custody. Despite trying everything—therapy, magic, even hypnosis—I couldn’t remember anything of my past. Not even the fire.

As I’d aged and asked questions about my origin, the social workers blew me off, claiming the details about my rescue had been lost.

I hadn’t believed them, so at eighteen, I’d signed up to become a Cryptid Authority agent, thinking I’d have access to more details about my rescue. However, it turned out they spoke the truth. The original case file had gone missing.

Until now.

I held it in my hand, a folder not very thick, as it contained only a few pages, and yet I trembled. Despite my curiosity, I found myself unable to flip from the first to the next page. Instead, I stared at the earliest known picture of me. Solemn-faced, my eyes too big for my face, my hair the same shocking pink of today. I wore an oversized shirt. Someone must have given me the one off their back to hide my nudity.

As my shock wore off, I pored over the details, sparse as they were.

My story began with a house fire, one already blazing hot and furious before the fire services even arrived on the scene. Given the inferno-like conditions, it was assumed no one survived. Meaning, they didn’t risk anyone’s life sending them in to look. Rather than waste a ton of time or resources, they let the flames peter out on their own.

Only once the smoke cleared did the investigating fire marshal notice a child sitting amongst the ashes. Hugging her knees, head pressed to them, her pink hair a curtain around her naked body.

Convinced the tyke must be cryptid, the fire marshal called in the Cryptid Authority, who swept in and bundled the little girl off for testing and questioning.

The blood and DNA samples labelled me as human. At the time, I showed no evidence of being gifted in any way, nor did anything in my appearance set me apart, unless the pink hair and surviving the raging blaze counted. Since they couldn’t identify me and no one stepped forward to claim me, the CA placed me in the foster care system, which, in my case, turned out to not be horrible. My foster parents were actually decent folk. Unlike others in the system, I didn’t get shipped around and had a normal childhood if we ignored how I’d gotten orphaned in the first place.

According to the report, questions about my parents—who my family was—went unanswered. I couldn’t explain a single thing. I didn’t know or remember how I got there. I had no memories of parents or guardians, or anyone for that matter. Just my name.

The investigating agents lost interest in my case. It fizzled off to nonconclusive and then disappeared entirely. Until now.

I would have liked to have read more but for two things. One, the last few pages had gotten damp and were now stuck together, and two, my phone went off with a text from the boss.

My office. Asap.

Was that an I’m-out-of-the-dog-house-come-see-me or a you’re-about-to-be-on-my-permanent-shit-list request?

Only one way to find out. However, first, given no one had a clue what hid in the boxes, I stashed the file about me in my oversized purse—which I carried not because I kept a shit-ton of girl stuff on me, but more because it acted as my lunch bag and was big enough for the books I liked to read when my shifts were slow.

As to those who would clutch their pearls at my minor theft, too bad. I didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty. My file had already been lost for thirty years, and I doubted anyone gave a damn other than me. Besides, I didn’t need anyone else knowing about my mysteriously fucked-up childhood.

I headed up from the dungeon to the main floor and exited into the bullpen, where it seemed everyone clustered around something. Or I should say, someone.

A tall man stood amidst the agents with his back to me, his hair a lustrous black with a blue sheen, his shoulders broad. Whoever he was, he had everyone enthralled. Me, I had a meeting with the boss to attend, so I stalked past to knock on Kowalski’s door.

“Come in,” barked my boss.

I entered to find Kowalski sitting behind his desk looking peeved, which, I should add, seemed to be his permanent expression.

“You wanted to see me, sir.” I started with a respectful tone. I could always resort to freaking out later if he tried to punish me further.

“I did. Am I right to assume you’d like to get out of desk duty?”

“Hell yeah.” I didn’t even attempt to curb my enthusiasm.

“Good. Because I’m going to need all agents on deck.”

“Has something happened?” I’d not heard of any problems; then again, I didn’t have a ton of coworkers I chatted with. I tended to keep to myself.

“No issues yet, but it appears that one of the super prison escapees might be heading our way.”

I well remembered the scandal from last year, as every CA office had gone on high alert for weeks, with good reason. A prison for the most dangerous cryptids had been destroyed, releasing a great number of its inhabitants. While some had been caught, many still remained at large.

“Any idea of what we’re keeping an eye out for?”

“A chimera who was in captivity for more than three decades for crimes against humanity. As far as we know, she’s not in town, but there’s been a report of her popping up a few hours away.”

A chimera? How rare. There were only a handful left in the world. What little I knew about their species stated they were usually adept at fire magic and could shift into a beast shape that varied. Some had wings. Others, three heads. I even recalled an image of one with a serpentine tail. The one other thing I knew? They were considered dangerous.

I did so love a challenge.

I barely contained my excitement as I asked, “You want me to see if I can scry for her?”

“Already been tried. She’s wily and knows how to hide her tracks. All the CA expert could do was confirm that the chimera was in the area around the fires because she left behind traces of her essence.”

Interesting. I didn’t have the kind of powers to pick up specific cryptid essence from sites, otherwise I’d have been tempted to try it myself, just to get a beat on this woman.

Kowalski continued. “The only reason we even caught wind of her is because of the fires she’s been causing. In the most recent one, she was actually caught by video surveillance breaking into a mobile phone store. It burned down right after. Given her propensity for arson, I’ll want you to personally start investigating all nearby blazes to see if you can connect her to any of them, so we know if she’s made it into town yet.”

I didn’t groan despite knowing most of the fires I’d be checking out would be benign in origin. Sometimes being a CA agent meant doing a bunch of dull and repetitive footwork in the hopes of finding a clue that would lead to the culprit. On the bright side, arsonists sometimes hung around to admire their handiwork, so it was possible I could end up making an arrest. “Am I apprehending, or is there a termination order?” While the Cryptid Authority did its best to arrest rather than kill, in some cases we had no choice. The lives of those we protected had to come first.

His eyes snapped up to meet mine. “You are not to approach the chimera under any circumstances. You are to investigate the fires, and if there happens to be a sighting of the chimera then you call for backup—call me. Do not speak to her. Do not give her a chance to speak to you. Their kind are tricksters and murderers and cannot be trusted.”

“Yes, sir. On it, sir.”

“Not quite yet, Smith. There is one more thing.” Before Kowalski could tell me what that thing was, someone knocked on his door.

“Come in,” called out my boss.

The stranger from the bullpen entered, even prettier from the front than the back. His native ancestry showed in his smooth tanned skin and dark eyes.

“Hey, Abe.” The man greeted my boss with familiarity.

“Koda, glad you could be here on short notice.” Kowalski stood and offered his hand for a shake.

“My pleasure to help.”

I had a bad feeling about this, which my boss confirmed a second later.

“Agent Marissa Smith, say hello to your new partner, Agent Koda Whiteclaw.”

“Partner?” I exclaimed. “I don’t need a partner.”

“You do if you want out of desk duty,” my boss growled.

My lips pinched. I did want out. Still… I eyed the good-looking man. “Hold on… Koda Whiteclaw. I know that name.”

“You should,” my boss said. “He’s the one who recently busted that underground pixie drug ring.” They’d been selling their drunken glitter to humans, leading to a sharp increase in indecent exposure incidents. “He also tracked down the stolen beanstalk seeds.” They’d been stolen from the museum, and there’d been fear they would be planted, giving the very ornery giants living in Cloud Plane over Earth access to the planet. They were apparently still pissed about the whole Jack-stealing-the-golden-goose incident.

“So he’s the CA’s super-agent darling. Good for him. I still don’t want him as a partner.”

“Oh, so you’d rather return to the basement?” Kowalski arched a brow.

“No.” I didn’t sulk, but only because I bit my inner lip. “He better not be as useless as my last partner.” Not a really high bar given Ralph’s only real skill? Knowing the locations of the best greasy spoons.

At my complaint, Koda Whiteclaw’s lips split into a smile. “I’ll do my best to not disappoint.”

“How about you just stay out of my way?”

“I assure you I am quite capable.”

I would have loved to argue that point, but I’d heard of him. Everyone had, hence why he had his own little fan club.

“This is non-negotiable, Smith. You will work with Agent Whiteclaw.”

“If I must,” I muttered. “Was that all?”

“Almost.” My boss slid over a folder marked Classified. “I’ve already briefed Agent Whiteclaw on our chimera, but here’s the official file.”

I flipped it open and frowned at the slim sheaf within, most of it redacted. “You’ve got to be kidding. It doesn’t even have a decent picture!” The grainy image within—clearly a screengrab from a surveillance video—showed an indistinct woman who could have been anyone.

Even Agent Whiteclaw was on my side. “This is kind of useless.”

“I’m aware it’s not much,” the boss apologized. “I’m working on getting more info.”

“These fires, we’re sure it’s the chimera causing them? Could be another cryptid with fire.”

“It’s the chimera,” Kowalski confirmed. “Fires are her MO, and we’re not going to chalk it up to coincidence when we have a high-risk criminal who just so happens to be around when one of their signature moves is occurring. Besides, I have it on good authority it’s her.”

“I’ll want a copy of the video you mentioned.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t do that, as it appears to have been misplaced.”

“Of course, it was.” I held in a sigh. “Very well. Guess I have my work cut out for me.”

I’d almost forgotten about Whiteclaw until he murmured, “Don’t you mean we?”

I glanced at him. “That will depend on you. My last partner’s idea of help was eating and napping while I did all the drudgery.”

Whiteclaw’s brow arched. “Then I can see why you prefer working alone. If it helps, I never nap and would never dream of eating while watching you work.”

If he actually meant that, then maybe this wouldn’t suck balls. “Speaking of eating, I need lunch. How do you feel about tacos? I know a place close by where we can stuff our faces while discussing how to tackle this.”

“Lead the way, partner.”

I did, sauntering cockily out of my boss’s office, happy to be out of the dungeon. As for the extra sway in my step that wiggled my fine ass? Entirely for my new partner’s benefit. Sue me. He was damned cute.